Guilty Secret: I <3 Joy
Apr. 4th, 2013 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breezeshadowEven though she's a sociopath. She's just a very interesting character, put into a position that she never wanted, and isn't sane enough to deal with in the first place. I need to make her in the Sims just to show what Traits she legit has -- Insane and Neurotic are just two of them, to start.
Timeline fails: Joy wouldn't be the instigator of the Frenton Rebellion unless she was a precocious ten-year-old. But my characters keep saying it was the Empire and Empress so meh. Maybe her father died early and she had psycho advisors.
Prose for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
darkfantasybingo, prompt "blood".
Blood stained the sandstone tiles over her throne room, and she could not tell in the light whether they were old or new. She had ordered most of their gas lighting off, the gas taken away, so any damned Fire mages wouldn't be able to melt them all with a few well-planned combustions.
She wore her finest linen nightgown, which she had insisted was appropriate despite the fussing of officials. It was the middle of the night; were it not for the clamour and the rumbling she could feel through the earth, traced back to thousand of footsteps -- why then she may still be asleep, and good for it. But no, instead she was woken by panicked guards and advisors, telling her that the Eramen were coming, damn them, they were seiging the city...
Joy would have loved to tell them well no shit, this was a war, goodnight, but she had a sense that they would not take her usual answers. They wanted her to act. They wanted her to be the Empress. Just like before, when Pooselridge had declared their independence, and declared a government to sit atop a pile of cold, miserable rock.
They had been immensely unimpressed with her reaction to that -- to accept the declaration and offer a peacekeeping mission once fighting subsided.
She imagined that her decision to surrender and allow the intruder into Rezten was not what they had wanted either. Joy smiled gently at the thought -- oh she thought she may try to kill her, but what she was always held far more terror than who. Instead, most of them deserted her, Joy guessed, but that was fine. What good had they done her, to wake up her up to scream about a seige that had been inevitable to arrive, once their kidnapping scheme unraveled like yarn?
Fighting was heavy in the air, cracking outside like unruly thunder. She hoped the Eramen had completely destroyed the lower levels of the city. While Joy could tolerate the snootiness of the nobles, so long as they kept everything prim and proper, she detested those slimey demis and whores and werebeasts. If they had the slightest concept of cleanliness, sure, but instead many of them shed everywhere, the whores shedding the more mortifying things than the others. It left the city looking like a marketplace just after all of the farm animals were slaughtered.
But when she looked out into the city, Joy could not see any obvious fires, or obvious anything, really. She snorted; this was stupid, really, they could have let her sleep through the boring part. It's almost like they thought they had a chance of winning.
They didn't. She didn't. The Empress knew, when the reports of Eramen military preparation came through, that it would not end well for them. They were no longer in an era where they could squash them like ants. Her bloody Father, damn his soul, had helped ruin any chance of that. Not only did he kiss their asses and offer trade agreements and peace, but then he squandered the Empire's wealth to mere shreds. The demis and werebeasts weren't responsible for it -- they were just a great target.
Then the idiot got himself assassinated and she inherited what was left of the "Great Welen Empire". She saw right away how bloated it had become, how bold and dnagerous its people. Pooselridge actively defying them, Frenton actively defying them, Antelon sort of kind of defying them... Her father's schemes had pleased only the speciests.
Twenty years was simply not enough time to undo so much stupidity. She had smashed apart Frenton quite fantastically, and gotten most of Io under her thumb. But Pooselridge remained too far, and those boundaries in the plains too fluid. And somewhere, she had made a final fatal mistake, and spurred the Eramen into attacking them at their weakest.
Perhaps Father was not so stupid when he played nice with the plains monkeys. Joy gritted her teeth, then sighed and walked forward, barefoot, following the blood stains down to the great doors that closed her in from the rest of the palace. For protection, they claimed, but Joy knew a death trap when she saw one, for she had made so many before.
The doors resisted a bit, and Joy frowned, probing them for any sort of material she could force along. Then she decided that was too time-consuming and swept her arm out, making a fist; Hundreds of tiles split from the floor and smashed into a haphazard boulder. She then stepped back, and swung her arm with enough force to make her feel like it should pop off. The tiles slammed into the door, shards flying everywhere, and something outside groaned.
She couldn't see the tiles on the other side of the door, but she knew they were there. Her own boulder collapsed in a pile of dust and shards, and she felt the rumble of the earth and crack as another tile boulder was formed. Then she closed her eyes, visualizing... Until finally she could see the threads of magic, and followed them out to the bright ball of it. Then she took it and pushed it, back and back, until it touched an obstacle.
Then she pulled it as hard as she could back to her.
The boulder smashed into the door with enough force to make the room shudder, and she heard a second slam shortly afterward. That time, when she went to open the door, it pulled open, and she was greeted by a split beam, glass-sharp pieces of tile, and enough dust to choke a child. Someone down the hall shouted with alarm.
"Down here! Magic! Magic!" It was in the Eramen tongue, and sounded more frantic than she would have expected. Surely they wanted to find her to kill her, not compare magic tricks. There was simply not enough eager excitement in the man's voice.
It really was so helpful of the first settlers to have built this palace mostly out of stone. With a grating shriek she lifted the floor straight in front of her, until she could see the chandelier that had previously been in one of the dining areas. She kind of hoped it would end up on someone's head, next.
And then that poor soldier let out a shout, and she could just barely see him, and his language and looks were definitely not from Welen.
So she chucked the floor at him. He had a chance to cry out for help before being pulverized. The giant slab slammed straight through not just the poor bastard, but also the floor he walked on, and Joy watched happily as a whole section of the hallway fell, to the surprised shouts and soon smashes and screams of those below.
SLeep time now. I feel much better after yoga with a progressive muscle relaxation and peaceful scene while finishing with a lotus pose, along with the ativan. So perhaps I can go to sleep restful, and maybe connect with coworkers a bit better.
Probably not, but I can hope.
Tschuess.
Timeline fails: Joy wouldn't be the instigator of the Frenton Rebellion unless she was a precocious ten-year-old. But my characters keep saying it was the Empire and Empress so meh. Maybe her father died early and she had psycho advisors.
Prose for
darkfantasybingo, prompt "blood".Blood stained the sandstone tiles over her throne room, and she could not tell in the light whether they were old or new. She had ordered most of their gas lighting off, the gas taken away, so any damned Fire mages wouldn't be able to melt them all with a few well-planned combustions.
She wore her finest linen nightgown, which she had insisted was appropriate despite the fussing of officials. It was the middle of the night; were it not for the clamour and the rumbling she could feel through the earth, traced back to thousand of footsteps -- why then she may still be asleep, and good for it. But no, instead she was woken by panicked guards and advisors, telling her that the Eramen were coming, damn them, they were seiging the city...
Joy would have loved to tell them well no shit, this was a war, goodnight, but she had a sense that they would not take her usual answers. They wanted her to act. They wanted her to be the Empress. Just like before, when Pooselridge had declared their independence, and declared a government to sit atop a pile of cold, miserable rock.
They had been immensely unimpressed with her reaction to that -- to accept the declaration and offer a peacekeeping mission once fighting subsided.
She imagined that her decision to surrender and allow the intruder into Rezten was not what they had wanted either. Joy smiled gently at the thought -- oh she thought she may try to kill her, but what she was always held far more terror than who. Instead, most of them deserted her, Joy guessed, but that was fine. What good had they done her, to wake up her up to scream about a seige that had been inevitable to arrive, once their kidnapping scheme unraveled like yarn?
Fighting was heavy in the air, cracking outside like unruly thunder. She hoped the Eramen had completely destroyed the lower levels of the city. While Joy could tolerate the snootiness of the nobles, so long as they kept everything prim and proper, she detested those slimey demis and whores and werebeasts. If they had the slightest concept of cleanliness, sure, but instead many of them shed everywhere, the whores shedding the more mortifying things than the others. It left the city looking like a marketplace just after all of the farm animals were slaughtered.
But when she looked out into the city, Joy could not see any obvious fires, or obvious anything, really. She snorted; this was stupid, really, they could have let her sleep through the boring part. It's almost like they thought they had a chance of winning.
They didn't. She didn't. The Empress knew, when the reports of Eramen military preparation came through, that it would not end well for them. They were no longer in an era where they could squash them like ants. Her bloody Father, damn his soul, had helped ruin any chance of that. Not only did he kiss their asses and offer trade agreements and peace, but then he squandered the Empire's wealth to mere shreds. The demis and werebeasts weren't responsible for it -- they were just a great target.
Then the idiot got himself assassinated and she inherited what was left of the "Great Welen Empire". She saw right away how bloated it had become, how bold and dnagerous its people. Pooselridge actively defying them, Frenton actively defying them, Antelon sort of kind of defying them... Her father's schemes had pleased only the speciests.
Twenty years was simply not enough time to undo so much stupidity. She had smashed apart Frenton quite fantastically, and gotten most of Io under her thumb. But Pooselridge remained too far, and those boundaries in the plains too fluid. And somewhere, she had made a final fatal mistake, and spurred the Eramen into attacking them at their weakest.
Perhaps Father was not so stupid when he played nice with the plains monkeys. Joy gritted her teeth, then sighed and walked forward, barefoot, following the blood stains down to the great doors that closed her in from the rest of the palace. For protection, they claimed, but Joy knew a death trap when she saw one, for she had made so many before.
The doors resisted a bit, and Joy frowned, probing them for any sort of material she could force along. Then she decided that was too time-consuming and swept her arm out, making a fist; Hundreds of tiles split from the floor and smashed into a haphazard boulder. She then stepped back, and swung her arm with enough force to make her feel like it should pop off. The tiles slammed into the door, shards flying everywhere, and something outside groaned.
She couldn't see the tiles on the other side of the door, but she knew they were there. Her own boulder collapsed in a pile of dust and shards, and she felt the rumble of the earth and crack as another tile boulder was formed. Then she closed her eyes, visualizing... Until finally she could see the threads of magic, and followed them out to the bright ball of it. Then she took it and pushed it, back and back, until it touched an obstacle.
Then she pulled it as hard as she could back to her.
The boulder smashed into the door with enough force to make the room shudder, and she heard a second slam shortly afterward. That time, when she went to open the door, it pulled open, and she was greeted by a split beam, glass-sharp pieces of tile, and enough dust to choke a child. Someone down the hall shouted with alarm.
"Down here! Magic! Magic!" It was in the Eramen tongue, and sounded more frantic than she would have expected. Surely they wanted to find her to kill her, not compare magic tricks. There was simply not enough eager excitement in the man's voice.
It really was so helpful of the first settlers to have built this palace mostly out of stone. With a grating shriek she lifted the floor straight in front of her, until she could see the chandelier that had previously been in one of the dining areas. She kind of hoped it would end up on someone's head, next.
And then that poor soldier let out a shout, and she could just barely see him, and his language and looks were definitely not from Welen.
So she chucked the floor at him. He had a chance to cry out for help before being pulverized. The giant slab slammed straight through not just the poor bastard, but also the floor he walked on, and Joy watched happily as a whole section of the hallway fell, to the surprised shouts and soon smashes and screams of those below.
SLeep time now. I feel much better after yoga with a progressive muscle relaxation and peaceful scene while finishing with a lotus pose, along with the ativan. So perhaps I can go to sleep restful, and maybe connect with coworkers a bit better.
Probably not, but I can hope.
Tschuess.
