portals ⇢「94th gamemakers, bb.」
Jun 17, 2023 12:28:40 GMT -5
Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Jun 17, 2023 12:28:40 GMT -5
“Oh! They’re all in!”
Lily hid her face behind a hand to giggle wildly at a checkered box of screens before her, each square showing one of their lovely little collectibles on their own pedestal.
Resplendent as she willed, her roundtable of twenty-four green knights, they were all so close to the reveal of what her and her companions had worked towards for months. It made her elated. It made an itch she couldn’t scratch. It made wingbeats in her chest, similar to those of the Nakoms that fluttered boundlessly all over her station and kept imbibing from the dress of real, viscously-golden honey Lily had chosen to wear.
Newfound technology made it so that the dress was not actively leaking as she moved, but it still glinted in a swirl of golds and ambers once she leaned in for a closer look.
“They are perfect,” Lily confirmed.
Perfect pieces, perfect stolen goods – they had been spirited away from their own little pathetic lives and stories to have the chance to tell a collective story, a beautiful story.
How lucky, she thought. She was envious of it and yet, at the same time, eager for her own part to play. After all, every story was in need of a witch in the woods and every story called for a fairy from the stars above to bestow it with magical life. Cinderella would be a mere peasant girl if it weren’t for the godmother. She could be that for them, and so much more.
“Activate the portal,” Lily gestured to a nearby technician and watched, with rapt interest, as the flower-abound archway in the middle of the cornucopia began shimmering.
She then left her station to join the others in the center of their control room – Astrid Zane, chameleon, dark phase of the moon, and Maddox, mongrel, a wildfire consuming a forest.
“So, votes on who’s dying first?” she asked, smiling.
Lily hid her face behind a hand to giggle wildly at a checkered box of screens before her, each square showing one of their lovely little collectibles on their own pedestal.
Resplendent as she willed, her roundtable of twenty-four green knights, they were all so close to the reveal of what her and her companions had worked towards for months. It made her elated. It made an itch she couldn’t scratch. It made wingbeats in her chest, similar to those of the Nakoms that fluttered boundlessly all over her station and kept imbibing from the dress of real, viscously-golden honey Lily had chosen to wear.
Newfound technology made it so that the dress was not actively leaking as she moved, but it still glinted in a swirl of golds and ambers once she leaned in for a closer look.
“They are perfect,” Lily confirmed.
Perfect pieces, perfect stolen goods – they had been spirited away from their own little pathetic lives and stories to have the chance to tell a collective story, a beautiful story.
How lucky, she thought. She was envious of it and yet, at the same time, eager for her own part to play. After all, every story was in need of a witch in the woods and every story called for a fairy from the stars above to bestow it with magical life. Cinderella would be a mere peasant girl if it weren’t for the godmother. She could be that for them, and so much more.
“Activate the portal,” Lily gestured to a nearby technician and watched, with rapt interest, as the flower-abound archway in the middle of the cornucopia began shimmering.
She then left her station to join the others in the center of their control room – Astrid Zane, chameleon, dark phase of the moon, and Maddox, mongrel, a wildfire consuming a forest.
“So, votes on who’s dying first?” she asked, smiling.
