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Diary of a Rose (Nine Princes in Pulp)Intended to be a bit of a log and some diary notes for the session as an aide to memory.
"A seal. How...quaint," Rose mentally noted as she used her thumbnail underneath the wax. Silver rose on black? Not easy to do, and the symbology of the rose ("A magnificent but prickly territory that must be experienced," she said aloud) was made obvious as she read the invitation. She didn't like roses herself, unless it was the clarity of the Compass Rose. She set the invitation aside for a moment before picking it up absentmindedly and using it as a piece of scratch paper. "You know, if you..." she mumbled, amused. "Boxing the compass should relate to cutting off transportation," she said aloud. "Zephyrus to Eurus, named and summoned?" She wandered off mentally for a few minutes, angelic script scratched beneath a picture of a wind rose. "But black?" she suddenly said, again. "A somber colour. The colour of sorcerors and priests." She thought, tapping her fingers against her chin for a moment. "Resurrection? Which way to Heaven?" she asked herself, writing it down on the back of the invitation. She picked it up after another moment, opening it with one hand. "I wonder if Roxie and Miriam will be going?"
"Show me everything," she told the gentleman who asked her what she required. Rose loved to fly, but somehow this floating bomb was too...staid. Too static. She knew there had to be something more dynamic about it besides the fiery death it hinted. She was stifled with the other passengers, all of whom seemed so ignorant of the raging fascination of processes just beyond the door.
"Everything?" the steward checked her rank.
"Everything," she insisted. "Let's start in how this works, exactly. The..." she looked for a word, drawing her left hand in a circle for magic, and her right hand in a clasp for technology. "Engine room," she remembered the words. Sometimes she forgot that other people didn't think in clusters the way she did. Clusters of images and meaning, with words being a poor paintbrush for everything going on in her head.
"Right this way," he said after a moment. Rose tried not to frown. Maybe that wasn't a reasonable request?
She felt better finding out that Miriam was also there. Her "voice of cynicism," she had dubbed him. She wasn't entirely sure what he did on a regular basis, but since their work together she suspected he was secretly also a force for what was Right. He asked many of the questions she had on the tip of her tongue. "But what happens when...?" was a phrase she used too many times.
"Moonriders," one of the engineers said. It sounded like a curse. The activity seemed to focus. It was not a panic, for which she was reassured. Rose knew what Moonriders were in a general way, although she was, of course, disappointed to find out they did not actually surf the moon's aura. She ran up to an observation area, although something...
...yes, there. Something had tingled in the back of her head, the way it sometimes did. Some kind of magic.
Merlin. She hadn't realized she had said it aloud until she heard Miriam's acknowledgement.
Merlin. She wasn't surprised. It wasn't even a matter of mixed feelings. Rose knew exactly where she felt when it came to Merlin. It was easier to think of him as some kind of caricature, a two-dimensional villain with skills that mirrored hers and then took them to extremes she couldn't comprehend, although, she reflected, they were not unimaginable. It didn't scare her. She knew she was for the Right.
The explosion behind her, that surprised her.
Three of the strange flyers pursued them from a direction that hadn't been given by the engineers. The explosion wrapped around them, and with a little bit of effort, Rose felt able to hold that explosion closer, before it became too much and she had to let it flicker out in the winds.
A shout made her whip around. Xia Mara. How did she...
Rose watched as the pilot jumped off the disappearing Ghostwheel. There was no way Rose could make it in time. She turned around, making the decision, and whipped her guns out to finish the two remaining flyers on their tail.
"Excellent job, my dear," Miriam Holmes said from below. She beamed at the praise. Even Caine might have been impressed.
She stood for a moment. Merlin was gone, but what had he wanted? She heard Miriam run down the stairs. She watched as Nikolai managed, against all odds, to manuever the flyer to catch Xia Mara.
Rose turned back towards the engine room. Something was still not right... something prickled against her senses. "Is it supposed to whine like that?" she asked the engineers who had maintained their positions through the excitement.
One of them demurred, the other shook his head. "It's within tolerance, but it's running fast."
Rose extended her senses. They were leaving a trail, a thin line of magic that held in place. "I will have to let the others know so we can investigate this," she thought to herself, her feet leading her thinking.
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