|
Post by Zach on Sept 16, 2011 19:32:25 GMT -5
---------------------------------------------- Prologus ----------------------------------------------
Alternian Separation Act
No State may deny, modify, or substitute any of these codes at any time.
1. No being of Alternian descent over the age of eighteen (18) Earth years at such time this bill is passed will be permitted to remain on Earth.
2. Any being of Alternian descent below the age of eighteen (18) Earth years at the passing of this bill will be considered under the Protection of the United States, and will be permitted to remain for the duration of their lives, barring further legislation.
3. No Alternian “Lusi” will be permitted to remain on Earth. Instead, Alternain children too young (under 13 Earth years of age) to care for themselves will be assigned a Government employed caretaker until they reach a suitable age to care for themselves.
4. No Alternian will be permitted to live in any public complex or suburban neighborhood. Sufficient Government housing will be provided to house all beings of Alternian descent within any city limits.
5. Beings of Alternian descent are under the duress of all United States laws and regulations.
6. No Alternian will be permitted to walk the streets of any city from 6p.m. to 6a.m.
7. No Alternian may use any form of public transport. Each State will provide an alternative method of transport of Alternian citizens.
8. Private businesses may reserve the right to make their own policies regarding the employment, service, or housing of Alternian citizens. No Alternian may be employed in any government-funded occupation.
9. No being of Alternian descent may campaign for or hold any public office.
10. No Human-Alternian intermarriage/cohabitation will be tolerated, and may be punished by up to 3 years in (federal) prison and a fine not to exceed $10,000.
11. No Alternian will be permitted entrance to any Human theatre, hospital, park, or other civic feature.
12. All States may reserve the right to pass any additional legislation necessary to the protection of citizens and capitol.
|
|
|
Post by Zach on Sept 16, 2011 22:49:00 GMT -5
------------------------------------------- Ch. 1 Differences Between People -------------------------------------------
At the behest of a shrieking alarm clock, John Egbert opened his eyes and stared at the blank white ceiling of his small room. Slowly, his vision began to adjust to the pale rays of light sifting through his window, and he rose, eyes drifting over his many treasures. Posters of movies only he seemed to enjoy, his stuffed rabbit, Liv Tyler… and, of course, his pet salamander, Casey. 17 years of memories lined the walls, but never before had he felt so out of place.
Today would be a novel experience in more than one way. He had been looking forward to his Senior year since he started middle school, but the events that had taken place over the last few months had turned his excitement into nervous anticipation. He could not pretend to understand the months of legal battles that had set the Supreme Court aflame, nor was he aware of the intense debates taking place on the Senate floor even now. All he knew was that life was about to change forever. Today, the Trolls would be allowed to attend public schools.
The prospect horrified his father. Each morning, they would eat breakfast together as the debates raged on the kitchen T.V. With each new right the Alternians gained, his father would shake his head silently, a picture of disapproving toleration. However, the hands that crushed the borders of his newspaper until the veins popped out did not escape his sons notice. Years of being pulled to the other side of the street when a Troll passed by, countless nights listening to his father read sensationalist stories of Alternian violence… Where he should have been giddy with excitement, now John was nauseous with fear.
With growing reluctance, John began to get ready. He had hoped that the familiarity of his trademark Green Slime tee would calm his nerves, but somehow, even it felt foreign and uncomfortable. Heaving a sigh of defeat, he slung his bookbag over his shoulder and headed downstairs. Years of sneaking midnight snacks to his room had afforded him a light step, and he managed to sneak by the kitchen, avoiding confrontation with his father… for the time being, at least. One door later, and he was outside, filling his lungs with warm summer air. His neighborhood was silent, the identical white houses extending as far as the eye could see. For that reason, the old red Cadillac parked in front of Johns driveway drew the boys attention immediately. “Took you long enough, Egbert.” Called a familiar voice. Johns’ eyes drifted to the trunk of the car, where a lean young man stood, sunglasses turned towards the rising sun.
With perfect nonchalance, Dave Strider dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out, running his a hand through his sandy blonde hair. “D-Dave! You’re on time!” John called out, a grin of surprise spreading across his face. The older boy shrugged, but a thin smile teased his lips as well. “C’mon, Egderp. I’d never keep a lady waiting.” he teased, opening the passenger door of his car with a dramatic sweep. John couldn’t help but giggle as he settled into the passenger seat, feeling some of his tension melt away. Ever since he had saved him from getting his lunch money taken in fifth grade, Dave Strider had been like the older brother John never had… though he would never figure out why someone as cool as Strider would hang out with someone like him. He supposed it was one of the many secrets Dave kept hidden behind the unchanging stare of his black glasses.
Once the initial ribbing has subsided, John found himself staring out the window, watching suburbia scream past him at a speed he was certain was quite illegal. With nothing but Dave’s indie music to fill the silence, he found his mind again wandering to the enigma of the coming year. What should he expect? Would he be attacked? Would it be safe to walk the halls? Would he have to talk to them? Did he want to? The questions surged through his mind, pushing up his heartbeat and forcing his breath to come in short gasps. “You okay over there, Egderp?” Dave asked, glancing over at him. He pulled another cigarette out of his jeans and offered it to his young friend, then placed it between his lips and lit it, inhaling deeply. John sighed, wishing he had half of Dave’s courage, but he supposed it was just the differences between people. Besides, he had no more time to think. With growing dread, John felt the car slow, easing into its parking place. There would be no more delays… it was time to face the unknown.
|
|
Brittany
Full Member
Seer of Breath
Posts: 166
|
Post by Brittany on Sept 17, 2011 7:40:31 GMT -5
B-but this is beautiful~ I would likes moar plz. Om nom nom nom. <3
|
|
|
Post by Quill on Sept 17, 2011 10:59:58 GMT -5
I can't handle how awesome this is. ;; It's so wonderful, I just...I have no words.
|
|
Murray
Full Member
Knight of Space
Posts: 249
|
Post by Murray on Sept 18, 2011 3:59:19 GMT -5
EXCITEMENT!
|
|
|
Post by Zach on Sept 18, 2011 10:59:29 GMT -5
-------------------------------------------------- Ch. 2: Cloak of t)(e witc)( --------------------------------------------------
With a trembling hand, John pushed open his door and stepped out of the car, extracting his bookbag from the mire of junk in Dave’s floorboard. Their school, Halley High, loomed above them like a shadow of death, promising calamity to all who would enter. Of course, John would never voice that metaphor out loud. He didn’t want Dave to think he was that lame. “So, uh… We’re seniors now, Dave. That’s cool, right?” “So cool, Egderp. We’re like fucking snowflakes, all chill and special up in this shit.” “Uh… yeah. Dave, are you making fun of me?” “Mm-hmm.”
John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t think he would ever get the hang of Dave’s sense of “irony.” As they approached the front of the building, the first bell rang, signaling students to enter and get to class. Predictably, Dave veered off and leaned against the rugged brick of the institution, taking a nonchalant drag of his ironic cancer stick. There were three things in this world that were absolutely certain: That the sun would rise in the east, that Conair was the best movie ever, and that Dave Strider would never be early for class.
For a moment, he contemplated staying outside, but the combination of irony and second hand smoke proved too strong a deterrent. He bid the resident coolkid goodbye, in as ironic a manner as he knew how (a fistbump. Seriously, who did those anymore?), and made his way to the heavy, industrial steel doors. “Come on… John Egbert is no coward!” he said to himself, trying to imitate the strong, manly tones of Nicholas Cage. What came out was more reminiscent of a little old lady talking to a particularly deaf feline. Whatever, it was close enough. With as much false bravado as he could summon, John Egbert opened the door. Like a boss.
The interior of Halley High looked the same as always. The same clean, industrial smell, the same gritty tile, the same dull grey bricks. Students swarmed through the narrow halls, hundreds of voices fighting for dominance, yet all of them spoke of the same topic. “The Trolls are really coming! I saw it on the news!” “I hope one of those punks looks at me wrong. I’ll beat the shit out of those horned freaks.” “I snuck a kitchen knife in my purse… you know, just in case.” John hardly found any of the conversations uplifting. His heart was beating faster than ever. He was unprepared, and what if one should…? No, he wouldn’t let himself think like that. “Just get to class, John… Just get to class…” he muttered to himself, pushing through the crowd toward the left wing of his school, where a Witch was waiting patiently for him.
With three minutes to spare, John stumbled through the open door of Ms. Schneeman’s homeroom class. If there was one upside to this whole situation, it was that, for once, nobody had noticed him as he skulked through the halls. Making it to class without a single comment on his social standing was, at the very least, a small blessing, and he would take a gift where he could get it. For now, however, he felt he should focus his attention on the beautiful girl giving him a pleasant smile from the most remote corner of the room. Without any of the fear his classmates displayed, he crossed the dirty floor and sat next to Rose Lalonde, the infamous and insidious Witch of Halley High.
“Good morning, John.” she said, morning sun dancing in her eyes. Rose was almost certainly the most gorgeous pariah John had ever seen. Her skin was pale, but pleasantly tinged about her cheeks with a healthy blush. She wore her trademark black lipstick, as usual, and an elegant black camisole that modestly covered her chest. Tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, she closed the massive grimoire she had been reading, and devoted her full attention to young Egbert. “Wow, Rose… you look great.” he said, giggling happily. He had missed his friend dearly. “Why, thank you, John. You look quite nice as well. I see you still have no trouble associating with someone who could purportedly hex you into anemia.” Her words carried a faint note of bitterness, but her smile was genuine. People could be so cruel.
Rose Lalonde had moved to the area four years ago, just as John was starting his freshman year. Her bewitching looks, coupled with her incredible wit and penchant for the arcane had immediately led to her reputation as a Witch. Within a month of her arrival, every incident, from breakups to poor grades to that time the gym caught on fire, was blamed on the mysterious and malicious Witch of Halley High. The current rumors, however, had taken a more serious tone. At the end of last year, Rose’s mother was hospitalized. Nobody knew why, or what had happened. Simply that it was, without a doubt, her fault.
Although she never let it show, John knew that, deep down, it had to hurt. Badly. There would never be anything she could do to dispel the rumors. Even the noblest acts of charity, to which she was certainly given, seemed sinister. For that reason, she had taken the title of Witch and wrapped it around herself like a cloak, enjoying the wall that came with it. Only John and his small group of friends could breech her barrier and get close to her, and even then, it was only partial. Rose Lalonde kept her secrets.
“John, you have been staring at my chest for a disconcerting amount of time. Is something troubling you?” she asked pleasantly, folding her hands across the scarred leather of her book. Rose was practically a licensed therapist. John nodded, averting his eyes in embarrassment. “It is the arrival of the Alternians, is it not?” “…Yeah. Rose, I’m scared…” “Oh, my. When was your traumatic experience with them?” “I, uh… don’t think I understand.” “Well, your fear must stem from something rational. Certainly the John Egbert that associates with a devilish sorceress could not be a victim of thoughtless bias.” “Rose, my Dad told me all my life that trolls were dangerous.” “My Mother told me all my life that alcohol was delicious. I didn’t believe her.”
John opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat. As one, each head in the classroom turned towards the window, drawn by the sound of sirens. Led by two police cars, a small convoy of ugly grey busses, windows tinted black, pulled up in front of the school, brakes screeching like demons from hell. As one, the rest of the students stood up and hurried to the windows, faces pressed against the glass for a glimpse of horror. Heart pounding, John stood up and joined them, leaving Rose to return to her book, face completely disinterested. In the short time the convoy had been there, a multitude of news vans had arrived, media personnel scrambling over the scene, cameras ready.
With an ominous creak, the doors on the busses opened, and from each emerged several police officers. The press was pushed back, a path was cleared, and a signal given. The whole room watched with bated breath, absorbing the spectacle with excitement and fear as the first patch of grey skin was illuminated by the morning sun.
|
|
Brittany
Full Member
Seer of Breath
Posts: 166
|
Post by Brittany on Sept 18, 2011 13:39:31 GMT -5
OKAY THIS IS AWESOME AND I LOVE YOU AND YOUR ROSE IS WONDERFUL AND I HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS WHY HALLEY HIGH AND DOES OUR SUN NOT HURT THE TROLLS IM JUST ASKING OKAY THIS IS BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT AND I LOVE YOU PLEASE DONT STOP PLEASE ITS SO WONDERFUL I AM VOMITING HEARTS ALL OVER YOU <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
|
|
|
Post by Zach on Sept 18, 2011 15:00:35 GMT -5
Uh... in order, let's see... 1. Halley is Bec's predecessor (Grandpa's dog, I think?) 2. I think the earth's sun is less harsh than Alternian sun. We can look at it for longer than 1 second without being blinded. 3. You didn't ask, but "Schnee" is German for "snow". :33
|
|
Brittany
Full Member
Seer of Breath
Posts: 166
|
Post by Brittany on Sept 18, 2011 15:07:46 GMT -5
Can I....can I say you write them so well, though. <3
|
|
|
Post by Zach on Oct 10, 2011 17:59:26 GMT -5
------------------------------------------------------------- Ch. 3 tHAT WHICH IS LOST, -------------------------------------------------------------
The moon hung high in the sky, courting the chill autumn air, illuminating bouquets of dead leaves that danced across the quiet streets. John Egbert, five years old, was the sole witness to this magic as he made his plodding way toward the park a block from his home. The world seemed so large to him, so infinite in color and texture and variety. Keeping to the light of the streetlamps, the tiny knight quested for neither honor nor maidens. Instead, he sought comfort, a memento. His most precious possession, a blanket that still smelled faintly of perfume, left behind after his latest playtime. Time passed. He arrived. The park, removed from the familiar glow of the lamps, appeared as dark and infinite as a void, and a sudden blast of icy air cut through the boys thin pajamas, setting him to shivering.
Step by tentative step, the whimpering child crossed from light into oblivion, seeking that which was lost. In every shadow, he saw a new nightmare, a creature that hungered for the flesh of the naughty, the bedwetting, the restless. Eaten with fear, eyes as wide as the taunting moon, the boy began to sing a broken song, a verse without meter, a fragment taken from primal memory. He did not know the words, but the shattered syllables granted him solace. As the verse repeated, his courage grew, and he proceeded farther across the cold sand.
It was only when he arrived at the towering swingset that he realized he was not alone. The faint song died in his throat as he stared up at the creature from his nightmares. Slowly, it turned to face him, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. In the strange light of the moon, the skin of the creature appeared gray, and its pupils glinted bright and black as Anthracite.
"What do you want?" it demanded, its voice faint and hoarse. Immediately, it collapsed in a fit of coughing, shivering violently. As the boy watched, it pulled something tight around itself, huddling away from the cold. "M-my blanky..." the boy whimpered, stepping forward. The creature growled defensively, stepping off the swings. It was barely taller than John, and obviously frightened. As he watched, it began shivering and coughing again, collapsing to the sand. "...What are you... looking at... you nooksucking... human..." it demanded, fists clenching tightly at its torn pants. In an instant, young John's fear had changed to curiosity, and he stepped forward, touching the creature's cold flesh, running tiny hands through its tangled hair, marveling at the chitinous horns sprouting from its head. "Don't... touch me... please..." it muttered, eyes fighting to stay open.
The boy whimpered slightly, grabbing the troll's hand. "Come." he said softly, tugging on the figure. Too weak to fight back, it complied, following shakily behind the boy. "My name... John." he mumbled, words all but inaudible. His companion merely coughed, stumbling and falling to the cement. "Up, up!" called the child, pulling the wretched creature to its feet once more, leading it back to the sanctuary of his home.
The door was opened, the lights were turned on. Water was provided, and his father was awakened. What followed was hell. "What in God's name is that thing doing in my house!?" cried his father, more terrifying than any creature inhabiting the night outside. John began to cry, falling onto the cheap linoleum. In the light of the kitchen, the troll's full nature was illuminated. It was a boy, with grey skin and small, nubby horns. It coughed pathetically as John's father held it by the back of the neck, pushing it past the frightened child. For an instant, their eyes met. The child had never seen such deep sorrow before, had no words to describe it. In one quick motion, the figure tossed a small, dirty bundle at him. Hugging his blanket tightly to his chest, tears of fear and hurt streaming down his cheeks, John could only watch as his father hurled the poor creature out the door, leaving it in a shuddering heap on the lawn.
The police were called, the creature taken away. John had never been spanked before, but he was that night. "Never. Never. NEVER. Get near. One of those. THINGS. Again!" Everything he had worn that night was burned, purged from existence. He never saw the troll or his blanket again after that night, but he learned a lesson. Trolls were dangerous. They brought pain. They were to be feared. He would never disobey again.
"John. Are you alright?" As a warm hand fell across his shoulder, John's eyes snapped open, bringing him abruptly from the grasp of his memories. For a moment, he was bewildered, then, slowly, reality returned to him, and he turned towards Rose.
"I'm okay... sorry..." he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. His classmates were staring, he could feel it, but he didn't care. With a gentle touch, Rose led him back to his seat and sat beside him, looking at him with genuine concern in his eyes. As he prepared to explain, a sharp knock reverberated throughout the room, bringing the entire class to a standstill. Mrs. Schneeman, smoothing down her modest gray pantsuit, opened the door.
The police officers were the first to enter, standing to either side of the door. To the fanfare of deathly silence, the trolls made their entrance. The first to enter was female, with an elegant, sweeping hairstyle. She wore a black shirt with a green emblem, along with a flowing red skirt and lipstick of an even deeper black than Rose's. For some reason, John found himself fixated by her horns, which possessed an almost exquisite asymmetry. The first possessed a perfect curvature, but the second had a hook at its tip. The figure nodded demurely to the class before turning to the teacher. "Good afternoon, Madam Schneeman. My name is Kanaya Maryam." she said, folding her hands in front of her. Her voice was smooth and elegant, each word chosen and enunciated with the utmost care. In spite of himself, John's gaze flew over to Rose. They seemed so... similar... and from the look in Ms. Lalonde's eyes, she could see the similarities as well.
As Kanaya moved off to the side, one of the officers signaled for the next troll to enter. This one was male, and strikingly thin. His hair lay flat and close to his head, punctuated by four horns, two on each side. The emblem on his shirt was a golden yellow, and he wore what John could only describe as 3-D glasses. This troll's fangs were readily visible, and mirrored his horns, two on each side. He entered the room and crossed his arms, expression hidden by the peculiar glasses. "Thollux Captor." he stated, lisping heavily to compensate for the prominent fangs jutting out of his mouth.
John's breath caught in his throat as the final troll made his way into the room. While the other two appeared somewhat calm and dignified, this one looked absolutely feral. Wild, untamed hair erupted from his head, all but obscuring his small, nubby horns. His face was contorted with rage and contempt, and he stomped in, arms crossed tightly across his chest, defensive. He glared at the fearful room, a snarl revealing broad teeth, rounded like tombstones. "Karkat motherfucking Vantas." he roared, and once again, the room fell silent, save for the frantic beating of John's heart.
|
|
|
Post by Quill on Oct 10, 2011 18:08:37 GMT -5
Wubuwubuwubu
WRITE MOAR JESUS *clings to fic and never lets go*
|
|
|
Post by Zach on Oct 10, 2011 18:11:34 GMT -5
Any advice, Ms. Beta?
|
|
|
Post by Quill on Oct 10, 2011 18:25:35 GMT -5
The sort of stream-of-consciousness of the flashback is wonderful, but the last paragraph is a little unclear. What happens with John's blanket, does he have it, or did Karkat take it? One sentence he is clinging to it and the next he says he never saw his blanket again.
Grammar-wise, everything seems pretty good, but you left out an 'l' in Sollux's name, and if you use 'madame' as a title, it should be capitalized. Also, it only has an 'e' on it if Kanaya is French. "Thank you, madam." vs. "Thank you, Madam Smith."
|
|
|
Post by Zach on Oct 10, 2011 18:30:59 GMT -5
Efcharisto. Let me go and fix that...
|
|
|
Post by Quill on Oct 10, 2011 18:35:47 GMT -5
Much better. c:
|
|