Update And Another Ask Game

Update and Another Ask Game

I've finally been moving all of my disjointed, separate scene notes for TOTSMOV41 into one document, into mostly chronological order. Draft 0 is at something less than 226 pages and counting now... I don't know what I expected. (Though, a lot of material has to be cut/consolidated/formatted, and part of the document is just notes for myself/thoughts.) So, I think the actual fic should be shorter. I'll have to remember to compare the lengths of Draft 0 and the final draft.

If you give me a word or phrase, I might be able to give you a screenshot of a page (or the closest adjacent page as long as it doesn't contain a spoiler) containing that word or phrase. Or, you could send me a page number instead.

Dear Rafal:

As some spirit swans shapeshifter angel possession thingy do you create souls and ship them off to the real world?

I have a case where I know someone very well and he just seems to be very similar to you. (cough cough)

Also if Rhian was a girl (or some genderbend AU) would you let me be her gf?

Rafal: [peers down at you from the sky through slitted eyes] I'm not a "thingy" as you claim. Nor am I possessed, and if you'd like to see a man possessed, turn no further than downwards, at my aging mirror image. He's bound to die eventually and I doubt he'll be joining me. [He grins.]

As for your query, the answer is no. Not currently. When I did involve myself in... low, earthly affairs, every mortal soul I had a part in creating was apparently deficient in some way or another. Always, it was: [said in a mocking tone] this one's imbued with an excess of "spite" or "hubris," that one is just plagued with "instability," and a third was impacted by a so-called "disregard for its own species" and a "malcontent temperament"—why should I care?

Amid those general issues, the few souls of mine that had been placed in the Woods were reported to be "cursed," what we call our failed projects, those who can't descend to the Woods and live "ordinary lives." They had to be reworked by my colleagues, who discovered that many of those restless mortals held unconscious, fully-formed vendettas against pirates, Seers, and blond men. Don't ask.

All of my creations have been scrapped thus far, including a potential distant relative I devised for my Stymphs: the razor-beaked, flesh-eating sparrow. It was marvelous, and I'm sure my living students would've found it just lovely. Unfortunately, Heaven didn't approve of my vision for a new and greater Woods, which is pointless, seeing as the Blue Forest is already populated with killer, puffball rabbits. My Woods would've been built upon cautionary tales, to whittle away at the simpletons who believe that as long as they're Good, they "deserve the world" as they're constantly told. The Evers were always entitled as they always received the benefit of the doubt automatically, a privilege my Nevers will never live to get for themselves. It's why they must take what the world deprives them of, which I can understand to an extent. [resentment creeps into his voice.] After all, I nearly got what I wanted, only for it to slip through my fingers. So, instead, my Nevers are trapped with a daft leader and just languish under a losing streak, as far as I can tell.

Besides, my title isn't "guardian angel." Heaven wanted to assign me to a post as a patron of travelers and physicians, but I declined, and took up record-keeping duties since, for the time being, I don't wish to see anyone. I'm not content with menial tasks, but there haven't been any other offerings worth my time, aside from staging a coup, whether it be a coup d'état or coup de grâce for a certain someone, well... I haven't decided yet.

However, I do hope that my brother's still around when the Second Coming rolls around. I'd be all too satisfied to see the dire look on his face as he trembles when I tap him on the shoulder. Then, I'd drag him to a punishment equal to his worldly crimes in whichever circle of Hell happens to be his final destination, all while the rest of the apocalypse roars around us... Something to look forward to, I suppose. The other angels tell me not to be so sure, or that I won't want justice by that point. But however long it takes, I'll be here. Waiting for my moment in that dying sun.

[Rafal likes to think he's moved past earthly proceedings, but in reality, he's still probably bitter, begrudging, and unforgiving (so far), and would prefer to think of himself as beyond trifles like mortal lives that aren't his. He probably just needs time to settle and accept his death. Eventually, he'll reform further though, and grow into his Goodness.]

Rafal: Who is this case of yours? [You don't have to elaborate if you don't want to.]

Do whatever you'd like with Rhian. I'm not his protector any longer, and he’s more than capable of "defending" himself. Just let me take his soul once he dies, and we'll have a deal. [He extends a hand pulsing with sorcery to you to shake.] A contractually-sealed deal.

Prequel fandom, it's imperative that you listen to this song I discovered today—I beg you. You will not regret it.

The lyrics, for reference:

You've got a long way down, a long way down, a long way down with our hearts so proud Apple and the baron got it old and spoiled All that's good for man is the soil

Got a neck so strong for the crown upon your head Don't think anyone will leave it when you're dead There's a throng of men mightier than you And they're waiting and they're watching till they fill your shoes

You build your tower up so high Walk over brothers to get by You lost your joy and don't know why Why

Of course the brothers gain in pride as the prequel storyline progress. That we know. The tension and stakes build to new heights. But you know what else also reaches new heights? The School Masters’ tower itself, an office Rafal had built likely for the express purpose of shutting out irksome interruptions from the inferiors down below, the very symbol of his pride, of his literally elevating himself above all the rest.

Does this one even need a caption? That’s one sexy sign!

decay sounds more gentle than rot. when something decays, it is gently taken apart in it's comfortable eternal slumber. when something rots, it's violently taken apart with agony. in this essay i will

Weird Things I've Referenced for TOTSMOV41

Warning: blood and abrasion versus laceration visuals.

And Lichtenberg figures (the fic doesn't actually have these in it—I just happened to come across this for reference for other semi-related imagery. If anything, it'd be magical currents, not electrical ones. So, not to worry! No one gets electrocuted in bathwater!):