Post by Carnelian on Feb 3, 2019 0:08:13 GMT
Y O U R W I S H H A S B E E N G R A N T E D.
The silvery plane was torn asunder, the solitary tree that had been his home splintered and broken. A mighty whirlwind took him up, up into the featureless sky, the silence slowly fading away, being replaced by a cacophony until, finally, at the crescendo-
Carnelian was awake. Fully awake, and fully aware, for the first time in 396 years. He looked himself over and was pleased to find that he was still in one piece. Well, relatively. His legs and tail were still gone, and (to his dismay) a halo hung above his head. In his haste to get instructions out while still lucid, it seemed that he had made an unfortunate error in the wording of his wish. His resurrection hadn't taken.
He started to move through the streets towards a tall, intimidating building. If he could get to his old office, he should be able to get a handle on things. Reestablish his powerbase, make new connections, obtain cashflow, hoard and consume information. Carnelian stuck to the walls of buildings as traffic sped through the air above him. The dead did not suddenly decide to walk, and he'd attract unwanted attention. Everyone seemed in such a hurry, the lower streets were near abandoned. Things had changed in his absence, and not for the better. One thing he could say in a positive light was that everything was clean, even the back roads shone bright and new under the light snowfall.
Nobody was there to meet him in the foyer of the building. Oil canvases larger than him hung on the walls, featuring imposing figures of the changeling race. No one he recognized. The elevator ride up was uneventful, but Carnelian appreciated the view of the city through the glass as he rose, higher and higher, almost to the top. He stepped through into an older styled antechamber, dark wooden walls and floors, sparse decoration, a secretary's desk that was currently empty, surely for the night. A large sign on the wall read 'Glaice and Snowrin, Law Practitioners'. A solitary light shone under the door to the main office; someone was working late tonight.
Carnelian let himself into a large office. The walls were lined with bookshelves, packed to the brim with thick, expensive looking tomes. Two paintings hung on the wall, one featuring a large, broad shouldered changeling with majestically curved horns, the other with a large, elongated head and protruding lower teeth. Clearly the current tenants. The back wall was wholly glass, looking out onto an impressive view of the city. In the middle of the room was a medium sized data throne, and upon that throne sat the changeling with the horns. He spoke with a deep, sonorous voice, not deigning to look up from his work. "I'm terribly sorry, but we're closed for the evening, and you'll have to come back tomo-"
FZZZTZZT
The changeling slumped forward in his seat, two holes drilled neatly in his chest, not an inch apart. Carnelian strode forth, lowering his finger from the dead man in front of him. Breathing heavily, Carnelian heaved the large, heavy-set changeling from the throne and onto the floor. "My seat now." Getting comfortable, he opened the holographic displays and began to sift through the bounty of information before him. History, weather, news, current events, galactic trends, satellite views, foreign affairs, he wanted it all. And it was all his for the taking. He felt better than ever, Carnelian was back.
[598 words]
The silvery plane was torn asunder, the solitary tree that had been his home splintered and broken. A mighty whirlwind took him up, up into the featureless sky, the silence slowly fading away, being replaced by a cacophony until, finally, at the crescendo-
Carnelian was awake. Fully awake, and fully aware, for the first time in 396 years. He looked himself over and was pleased to find that he was still in one piece. Well, relatively. His legs and tail were still gone, and (to his dismay) a halo hung above his head. In his haste to get instructions out while still lucid, it seemed that he had made an unfortunate error in the wording of his wish. His resurrection hadn't taken.
He started to move through the streets towards a tall, intimidating building. If he could get to his old office, he should be able to get a handle on things. Reestablish his powerbase, make new connections, obtain cashflow, hoard and consume information. Carnelian stuck to the walls of buildings as traffic sped through the air above him. The dead did not suddenly decide to walk, and he'd attract unwanted attention. Everyone seemed in such a hurry, the lower streets were near abandoned. Things had changed in his absence, and not for the better. One thing he could say in a positive light was that everything was clean, even the back roads shone bright and new under the light snowfall.
Nobody was there to meet him in the foyer of the building. Oil canvases larger than him hung on the walls, featuring imposing figures of the changeling race. No one he recognized. The elevator ride up was uneventful, but Carnelian appreciated the view of the city through the glass as he rose, higher and higher, almost to the top. He stepped through into an older styled antechamber, dark wooden walls and floors, sparse decoration, a secretary's desk that was currently empty, surely for the night. A large sign on the wall read 'Glaice and Snowrin, Law Practitioners'. A solitary light shone under the door to the main office; someone was working late tonight.
Carnelian let himself into a large office. The walls were lined with bookshelves, packed to the brim with thick, expensive looking tomes. Two paintings hung on the wall, one featuring a large, broad shouldered changeling with majestically curved horns, the other with a large, elongated head and protruding lower teeth. Clearly the current tenants. The back wall was wholly glass, looking out onto an impressive view of the city. In the middle of the room was a medium sized data throne, and upon that throne sat the changeling with the horns. He spoke with a deep, sonorous voice, not deigning to look up from his work. "I'm terribly sorry, but we're closed for the evening, and you'll have to come back tomo-"
FZZZTZZT
The changeling slumped forward in his seat, two holes drilled neatly in his chest, not an inch apart. Carnelian strode forth, lowering his finger from the dead man in front of him. Breathing heavily, Carnelian heaved the large, heavy-set changeling from the throne and onto the floor. "My seat now." Getting comfortable, he opened the holographic displays and began to sift through the bounty of information before him. History, weather, news, current events, galactic trends, satellite views, foreign affairs, he wanted it all. And it was all his for the taking. He felt better than ever, Carnelian was back.
[598 words]
