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Topic: Road to Glory - a Scion: Holy Roads game
Subject: About the time...
About the time when the girl came crashing through the door, Gavriel had already chosen and wrapped up the Vogue catalogue. A hefty volume this year, it crunched in his hand. Handy little baton. It was one of the few uninteresting magazines he could pick out from the magazine holder on back of the seat in front of him.
The girl came along, ran past him and collapsed on the floor. Then came the beast-men and he became the quiet spectator of the scene that unfolded in front of him. The good Samaritan was killed or so it seemed. Screaming fallowed, which was to be expected. He controlled his breathing, bit his tongue.
Someone shouted something and: “…back off now or I will make you hurt!” Distraction. Just what one needed.
Gavriel moved with ease from the seat to an upright position, grabbed the throat of the brute next to him. Then something new came along and it surged through his veins and clouded his mind for a split second - this feeling of conflict with a lovely little hint of a bloody struggle on the top: He felt homely.
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
The neck broke with ease.
Posted on 2008-03-17 at 01:08:15.
Edited on 2008-03-17 at 01:28:34 by Solon Lovelock
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Topic: Road to Glory - a Scion: Holy Roads game
Subject: Guy Gavriel Kay
For Guy Gavriel Kay it began in silence, and it was silent in the restroom while the Worlds collided outside the door to the train station platform. And for a moment Gavriel felt like he had entered his own private world, just for a moment. He needed it, desperately. The whiteness of the tiles in the restroom made him think of cleanliness and simplicity.
It is beautiful, he though. The leathery smell of his trench coat bothered him a bit, though.
Funny, Gavriel thought as he examined his reflection in the mirror: This supposed godsend. A childe of Thor. He felt stupid and light headed the longer he thought about it.
The mirror:
Luggage being loaded into the train? Check.
Got your wallet and everything in it? Cash? Check.
Train ticket? Passport? Cell phone? Check.
Wash your face Gavriel. He washed it. (Again).
Remember the facial crème. Check.
Teeth clean? Check.
Pleasant breath? Check.
Hands clean? Check.
Nails trimmed? Check.
Hair ok? Check.
Cool looks & confident countenance? Check.
Adequate amount of cologne? Check.
Is there a wonderful, hidden perfection in the tie-knot? Check.
Frack. Check.
Frack you.
Frack that gunman in the coffee shop.
Frack the bullet.
But he ruined a good jacket, should’ve killed him for that.
Frak them innocent bystanders too.
Especially them innocent bystanders. Frack ‘em all.
Oh? Frack the world ‘cause it’s not going your way?
Frack you.
And your father.
Frack your mother for giving into your father.
What a whore.
You do not know anything about that.
Frack you and your pretty little whore of a mother, and your daddy-o.
“Silence!” he spit out.
Enjoy it while you can, frackturd.
Gavriel did, just as he had enjoyed the week vacation in Milan, the former capital of the Western Roman Empire. Next on the menu, as a continuum in the study of the Roman history for the history buff: Zürich. Zurich was wonderful - he had been there before - but he didn't find the thought of visiting it quite as exciting as he had thought. A lot of stuff had happened lately. For example: The headshot at some local coffee shop. His head, someone else's bullet.
Gavriel hadn't really "been there" when the guy came rushing in with the gun. He had been dosing off, meditating or whatever one would like to call it. Unintentional gunshot, sure, but it did supposedly hit him in the back the head, hence the trail of blood splattered across the table. The gunman had been pleasantly surprised yet horribly frightened when this mountain of muscle, two point two meters high, legs and arms like tree bulks, fingers as thick as sausages, rose up from the chair - unharmed. Turned to him and asked with a calm, icy voice any god would be proud of:
"What the f**k?"
That had been a very gross and bloody proof that something wasn't quite right either with Gavriel or the world at the moment. Not to mention the stuff back home: The armour, a ceremonial glaive and some gloves. His "birthrights". He almost laughed out loud thinking about the notion of it or the supposed "vision". Gavriel didn't give a damn about any of it. He glared at the mirror.
"I am not mad," he said repeatedly to the mirror until he was satisfied.
Guy Gavriel Kay took an aspirin before boarding the train.
Posted on 2008-03-06 at 22:21:37.
Edited on 2008-03-17 at 01:16:04 by Solon Lovelock
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