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To be updated as this madness continues.
tachycardiac: (Default)
(Dun dun DUUUN.)

Attempting to make some sort of order out of this mess. Bits and pieces of both stories are listed chronologically in the order they occur in the book. I would highly suggest navigating based on this and not the order I'm posting them in, as that's fairly helter-skelter. Fair warning: there's every chance they'll get edited and added to as the NaNoWriMo goes along. A * denotes scenes that are complete or a series of scenes that are complete when taken together. And, yes, I'm working on two novels concurrently, though I'm heavily favoring an hour. Don't look at me like that, I can do it if I want to.

an hour of all this grew deeper )


as for the photograph )


the trash heap )
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[center]


[font="arial narrow"][size=7]ESHE [color="white"]SSANYU[/color] BAH[i][color="white"]![/i][/color][/size][/font]

[img]image not to exceed 375x500[/img]

[font="arial narrow"][size=7]ID No. [color="white"]0017732957[/font][/size][/color]



[b][color="white"]THIRTY.[/b][/color] occupation and/or main activity here.
additonal few lines about your character go here. could be anything from random facts or
bits about his/her history to a general summary of personality/who s/he is as a person.[/center]




[font="arial narrow"][size=7]BASICS[color="white"][i]![/i][/color][/font][/size]

[b][color="white"]GENERAL:[/color][/b]
[list][b]NAME:[/b] Eshe Ssanyu Bah.
[b]AGE:[/b] Thirty.
[b]BIRTHDATE:[/b] February 8, 2030.
[b]SEX:[/b] Female
[b]GENDER:[/b] Female
[b]CATEGORY:[/b] Citizen.
[b]ORIENTATION:[/b] Heterosexual.
[b]KINSEY NUMBER:[/b] 1.5
[b]HOMETOWN/DISTRICT:[/b] Chicago.
[b]ORGANIZATIONAL AFFILIATION:[/b] New Republicans.
[/list]

[b][color="white"]APPEARANCE:[/color][/b]
[list][b]HEIGHT:[/b] 5'10''
[b]BUILD:[/b] body type and shape.
[b]COMPLEXION:[/b] Medium-dark.
[b]HAIR:[/b] Dark brown, boy-short, and curly/picked out.
[b]EYES:[/b] So dark brown as to appear black.
[b]CLOTHES:[/b] how your character dresses.
[b]PLAYBY:[/b] Yasmin Warsame
[/list]

[b][color="white"]FAMILY:[/color][/b]
[list][b]MOTHER:[/b] full name, age, occupation.
[b]FATHER:[/b] full name, age, occupation.
[b]SIBLINGS:[/b] full names, ages, occupations.
[b]OTHER:[/b] Chausiku Bah, 12, student, districted. Imamu Bah, 21, missionary.
[/list]



[font="arial narrow"][size=7]PERSONALITY[color="white"][i]![/i][/color][/font][/size]
[list]
Eshe sets out to accomplish things. She’s got drive and energy to spare, and will throw herself entirely into a cause, but tends to be very restless and difficult to settle down. She wants to be constantly doing, and has little patience for sitting around and talking about what should be done. Even when she’s working on a story, she’s practically acting out that story, writing in concentrated bursts in between popping out of her chair and pacing, talking to herself and going through motions that make her look both frenetic and a little bit crazy.

She holds herself to very high standards and expects others to achieve her level of performance. She’s intelligent, possibly to a fault, because she knows how intelligent she is, and she’s set out to prove it to everyone else. She grasps ideas very quickly, and she's always had a gift for writing and speaking. She's very pursuasive, when she puts her mind to it. She also wants to know more and more and more; she's never content with resting on her intellectual laurels.

She’s open to knew ideas up to a point. She tends to research something heavily before she forms an opinion - she's a very rational creature and makes decisions based on facts and not emotions; she lives intensely in her mind - but once she does form that opinion, she shuts down against other options. After reaching that point, she’s incredibly unlikely to shift herself or to let others shift her from where she stands. She's resistent to people trying to change her, in general and can be inflexible at the worst possible times. She refuses to compromise or give an inch, particularly where her values or ethics are concerned.

She has an independent spirit and tends to hold unorthodox viewpoints, the kind that really don’t endear her any to the MOP, but that made her an excellent recruit for the New Republicans. She's sort of an avant-garde thinker, whose opinions are written in stone. She believes in personal freedom and the right to express oneself as one sees fit. You can imagine how she feels about the government stepping all over freedom of speech, not to mention what they do to UDs. She makes for an opinionated, rebellious sort and she sticks to her guns - she's fierce, ya'll, and she'll prove it to you. Coupled with her natural impetuousness, she’s kind of a danger to herself and others. She’s always been the sort to be in constant trouble. The water rises fast, with her.

She’s not terrible good with money. She’s an impulse spender and loves to splurge. She’s fond of good living, and she likes owning nice things because, when you grow up with six brothers and sisters, you don’t tend to end up with many nice things of your own. Her paychecks not bad, but it doesn’t cover that much in the way of expensive clothing and toys. That hasn’t stopped her yet.

(While doing her natal chart, one reading that came up was that work would take her to new residences. I LOLed.)

[/list]



[font="arial narrow"][size=7]HISTORY[color="white"][i]![/i][/color][/font][/size]
[list]


[/list]



[font="arial narrow"][size=7]ABOUT YOU[color="white"][i]![/i][/color][/font][/size]
[list][b][color="white"]NAME:[/color][/b] Jack
[b][color="white"]AGE:[/color][/b] 23, bitches!
[b][color="white"]GENDER:[/color][/b] Male
[b][color="white"]OTHER CHARACTERS:[/color][/b] Cleto Chavarria, Shpresa Pranvera, Quaid Cassidy.
[/list]








[i][center][font="arial narrow"][size=7][color="white"] SHAKEN AS WE ARE[/color]
WAN WITH CARE[/font][/size][/i]
tachycardiac: (Default)


Nikolao comes up with the plan to get Chiela’s memory back, which makes it seem stupid right from the get-go. Chiela’s really not sure about it; she doesn’t even particularly like the set-up: Pipra’s sitting in front of her, looking about as calm as he ever gets - which, honestly, isn’t very - and Nikolao’s fiddling with the controls on a seriously complicated looking machine, one Chiela doesn’t particularly want to be hooked up to, but one that she’s going to, regardless. She sitting, with her legs crossed, as still as she can while Terasu - Terasu - attaches electrodes to her head in a way that makes Nikolao look approving, and Chiela’s not even sure why Terasu is helping, being that she usually disapproves of anything Nikolao-related on principle or whatever. Maybe she just wants Chiela’s memory back as much as everyone seems to, although why Chiela still doesn’t know. She supposes a dragon who remembers how to… well, be a dragon is more useful to a bunch of space flunkies on the run than one who doesn’t. She’s not totally sure she wants to remember. She’s still not particularly happy about being a dragon, let alone being one with her dragon-ness.

“Alright,” Nikolao said, “I’m ready.”

“Same here,” Terasu says, as she attaches one last electrode. She leans back to look down at Chiela, an expression on her face Chiela doesn’t know how to read - she likes to think she knows Terasu better than anyone, so that’s a little off-putting. Disturbing. Something. Terasu leans down and kisses here, once, on the forehead, which, hey, that’s sweet but no less worrying.

“Oh my gosh,” Pipra says, just about bouncing in his seat, “Let’s do it!”

Terasu nods to Nikolao, who darts a look between Pipra and Chiela before turning back to the machine he’s McGyver’d from, like, space trash, which totally isn’t comforting, flipping several switched in sequence and throwing a final lever.

The room goes dark all at once, and a deep, throbbing hum starts up. Chiela feels… strange, definitely strange, as if she’s suddenly become over-stimulated; not really a bad sensation, just not one she’s used to. Across from her she can hear Pipra shifting back and forth, then going still, and she actually feels as his mind makes a first tentative brush against hers. She tries to relax, although relaxing your psyche’s a little more complicated than just relaxing your body, and she’s not sure she’s managed it before Pipra makes a second stronger attempt at a connection. Chiela has apparently managed to lower her barriers enough for it to stick, and she feels as Pipra’s mind overlaps hers, sinking in, deeper and deeper. Already she can feel memory’s dredging up, not anything she’s forgotten, just memories of her and Terasu on Earth, of Terasu performing on stage, of her and Terasu snuggled up on the couch under blankets in winter, walking through the park, cooking dinner and bumping in to each other in their tiny kitchen, Terasu tasting sauce from the spoon Chiela holds, Terasu laying in bed, just-woken, with that cranky befuddled look that just makes Chiela want to kiss her.

The first memory that she’s not sure is a memory comes fast on the heels of those memories: a picture of an open field, cratered, with her lying at its center, a man stooped over her, trying to help her to her feet, wrapping a blanket around her naked, newly transformed body, giving her his shoes, which slop back and forth on her feet, overlarge, and walking across the field, with his arm holding her carefully upright. She knows the story of her arrival on Earth - and a small, freaked out part of her balks at the term arrival because she still doesn’t like the thought that she’d come from somewhere else - told to her by the nurses at St. Cloud, though of course they didn’t refer to it as an arrival, just as how she was found, but she’s never seen any of it before.

She doesn’t even have any time to freak out over that one, before the next comes, a memory of outer space, for real, and even knowing that had to be coming, it was weird, no question, but there it is, herself in a cloud of comets, claws digging deep into rock, her body a quick contraction of muscle, her mournful voice a steady background noise, and there, there, more voices responding. Another: a sole comet streaking through space, her wings tucked tight against her body, the Earth a blue and green smudge in the distance. The memories keep coming, some before those and some after, the final she sees before opening her eyes one of the atmosphere burning around her, crumbling a comet down and down, and her body hurtling toward the ground with it. She comes back to herself hearing the machine humming steadily, feeling Pipra pulling away from her mind, hearing him say, “Stop! Stop!” and realizing she was fully transformed, her body one long contraction of muscle, rearing up, her wings flaring behind her, and fire stoked in the belly, ready to be exhaled. She breathes in cool air and breathes out smoke as the lights go up, and she hears Terasu saying, “Chiela? Chiela!” voice muffled as if she were underwater. She stretches, luxuriating in the feel of her own body, her claws scraping over metal, rumble of her voice deep in her chest, reverberating in her belly.

She watches, calmly, as Pipra approaches her, running one hand, reverently along her flank, and with that touch comes memories of another world, a stranger world, forests birthing animals from fruit trees, air heavy with pollen, yellowing Pipra’s hand as he touches the flowers, humidity prickling at the back of his neck, and Nikolao’s hand on his shoulder, turning Pipra to face him, and there, Terasu in the distance with another girl (and she’s only just a girl, not a woman yet, though Chiela can see the shape of the woman she’ll become) with snakes writhing atop her head and flowers growing from the arms and hands, a Shaman and a Voice. She realizes she’s closed her eyes and opens them again, to see Terasu bent down to look at her close up, and even she looks impressed, mouthing a “Whoa,” that Chiela can see but can’t hear. Chiela shakes herself once, then abandons her body, shifting back to a her mundane form, the feel of calm and eternity going with it. She’s left as just Chiela, feeling stunned herself, and, “Whoa,” she says because seriously. Whoa.

“Oh my gosh,” Pipra says, his hands tucked under his chin, then he throws his hands up in the air, and gushes, “That was so totally cool!” and Chiela smiles and says, “I know!” because it so totally was, and for the first time, she not so much freaked out at the thought of being something so alien as she is psyched. She can breath fire! And fly! There is no world on which that is not cool. She notices Nikolao standing behind Pipra, still poised over the machine, and he looks pretty damn smug, which Chiela’s willing to overlook, just this once, since his space-trash McGyvering actually worked. She also realizes she still got a bunch of electrodes attached to her, although half of them had come unstuck when she transformed. She starts pulling them off, and she totally wouldn’t turn down a shower now or at least a running sink because she’s got sticky stuff all over from were they were attached.

tachycardiac: (Default)
Chiela had to watch the newscast three times through before she could accept that yes, one of those kids from the orchard had a cell phone, and yes, he’d gotten a perfectly in-focus video of her transforming into a freaking lizard while Terasu floated beside her and, yes, the media had gotten a hold of it and aired it, which probably never would have happened if there also hadn’t been reports of a freaking spaceship hovering over the Earth and beaming them up. Which the video also showed, directly after the freak storm that, apparently, Terasu had caused. And seriously, that had to be one expensive phone because the feed wasn’t even grainy. CNN had apparently tracked down who Chiela and Terasu were, and there was an interview both with their next door neighbor and Neavah, who was a complete and total traitor and had told them all they’d cared to know about Chiela, and then gone on to ruminate on whether Chiela’s psychic abilities were the result of her being a dragon or an alien or an alien dragon.

“Jesus Christ,” Chiela said.

“So you see,” Nikolao said, killing the recording and valiantly ignoring how Pipra was hanging off his shoulder making kissy faces, “why we can’t send you back,” and, yeah, Chiela saw why, but that didn’t mean she was thrilled about it.

Chiela scrubbed her hands across her face - the scales and talons had finally retreated, although the wings still refused to disappear - feeling utterly fucking overwhelmed.

“What the hell am I supposed to do, now?” she asked, and she was perilously close to whining. But, hell with it, she’d totally earned some whining.

“We could drop you on another planet,” Nikolao said, and his tone made it clear he wasn’t going to do that - behind him Pipra was making a series of increasingly ridiculous faces which - actually, Chiela wasn’t sure what that meant; maybe he was making fun of Nikolao, or possibly just that plan, or maybe he just wanted to make faces, “but you’d likely fare no better,” not to mention the fact that she wouldn’t know anyone on another planet - granted that here she only knew Terasu, and apparently she didn’t know Terasu very well, after all - and she doubted there was Catholic Relief Services in space. Also, she wasn’t wild about having to learn a whole new culture and, probably, language.

Nikolao looked as if he were about to say something more, but Terasu stopped him by the expedient measure of punching him in the back of the head.

“I hate to agree with this asshole,” Terasu said, and Nikolao was rubbing his head and looking aggrieved, “but you’re probably better off with us,” and while Chiela wasn’t sure she agreed - she hadn’t missed the part where these guys were being tracked down by people who’d nearly wiped out their entire species - she didn’t see how she had any other options.

“Yeah, okay,” she said, heavily. “Why the hell not?”

“Oh my gosh,” Pipra said, giggling, “You are so totally going to regret saying that.”


Chiela had found the commissary - and look! they had cafeterias in space! - while wandering dazedly around the ship half trying to orient herself, and half avoiding any more conversations that’d make this real. If she were alone she could go on pretending that this was one trippy=ass dream, one she could wake from any time now. That’d be great.

She dropped onto a bench and let her head fall down onto her folded arms.

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