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 Wooden Symphony

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Subject Post 11PostSubject: Re: Wooden Symphony   Sat Dec 10, 2016 11:57 am



Scrabbles



Sprache




Song: N/a STUFF - Artist: N/A STUFF - Words: N/A



Sprache's attention hadn't quite picked up just how condescendingly she was viewing him. He was still somewhat oblivious to a lot of the social cues that displayed discontentment and while he understood "threats" enough to know she wasn't especially happy with him, he didn't really see why beyond that whole light stick pointed at her face thing. Sprache didn't even detect the sarcasm laden in the whole house comment. He just assumed she was vocalizing her deductive reasoning and while that was a little confusing, maybe normal people do say that stuff out loud. He did not quite have a reason to believe she was being in any way derogatory because the only point of reference for social behavior was what he himself did. So if she was shooting for nuanced insults she was going to be found quite wanting unless she enjoyed Sprache not having a clue what she was saying, which sounds a bit like bullying really. Middle school anti-bullying programs must not have been attended, the jerk.

When they finally did reach Sprache's little cavernous abode, Sofia's first reaction was one that Sprache had never seen before. Wonderment. It wasn't by the visceral scenes of violence, no she seemed to not be bothered by that much at all and even seemed to enjoy it, which begged a few questions of their own. Sprache had no recollection of ever being complimented on something before. It was difficult to explain things that most people took for granted and as common knowledge to someone like Sprache, who simply did not understand the sentiment. Of course...the compliment was later punctuated by the fact that she called them paintings. Paintings were, by definition, involving paint. There were not enough berries in the world to create what he had the last couple days and they had pretty clearing been scraped out of the rock face with another rock. These were etchings, not paintings. A small look of discomfort came over his face at her words, whether she would know that he had been bothered by being complimented or the fact that she had no idea what a painting was would be left to mystery.

Sprache sat down on the elevated mass of foliage that he had been using to sleep on as the woman continued to sweep across the myriad of drawings that Sprache had made. He didn't know any more than she did what they were of, but he was, to a degree, relatively certain it wasn't in the past. At the same time, how else would it make any sense? Sprache had to memory, maybe these were memories. That made the most sense didn't it? At the same time though...Sprache just knew that this wasn't the past. There was not a better way to explain it...he just knew that wasn't it. Then the woman followed up her words and Sprache's innate snark just could no longer contain itself.

"Past, present or future are the three options, yes."

Sprache tilted his head at her next suggestion. It wasn't a bad one he supposed. A potential failure of a plan was still considerably better than no plan at all. Sprache got up off his "bed" and made his way over to the city that he would later learn was known as Chicago. Sprache walked past her and extended his hand toward to cave wall, his fingers brushing against the small grooves and trailing along the etchings that were scraped in to the cave face. Sprache closed his eyes ran his fingers down the picture before turning over his shoulder back to Sofia.

"This one...it feels the most...immediately important."

Sprache couldn't tell her exactly why it felt the most important. It was a nagging sensation, a pull on his consciousness. They should analyze this one first. There were two more cities buried further in to the cave, two more scenes of carnage and blood. They could view those later if she desired, but this one, Chicago, was the one most pertinent to her. It wasn't the one that was the most important to Sprache, the one that filled him with such an overwhelming and awe inspiring uneasiness...but Chicago was the one they had to deal with first. Indeed.

Sprache trailed his fingers up once again to a figure amidst the destruction. The creature was large, the size if not bigger than multiple buildings around them. It was a distinctly feminine shape, but not much was done to accentuate those traits, the portrayal was much more monstrous and intimidating than alluring. Sprache let his finger rest on her forehead, his hand reaching high above his head to make contact with it. This was one of the greater threats in the etchings and his images seemed to only emphasize this. The words that came out of his mouth next were equal parts frightened and hopeful, scared and desperate. He wanted more than anything to know what he was drawing and why he was drawing it. He wanted answers, he wanted some sense of security in a life that clearly did not have any of it. He didn't know the woman much, but any chance he had that he could be given that sense of security and calm, he was going to take it.

"Do you...do you know who this giant is? Where this is? Why I'm drawing these?"




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Subject Post 12PostSubject: Re: Wooden Symphony   Wed Dec 14, 2016 10:01 pm


[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]





THE QUINCY PRODIGY

Artist: N/A - Song: N/A


He seemed to display a puzzled look when she called the art before her paintings. Perhaps she had used the wrong terminology but he was in no position to even think in an ill manner of her word choice. For someone that was so clueless of almost everything, it was strange that he actually even knew what a painting involved, let alone what paint in it of itself actually was. A violin was unknown, as was music and the concept of it, but paintings, and paint in general as a tool seemed to be perfectly understood by the strange man. Whatever kind of amnesia he had was very opportune and carefully crafted, almost as if he had chosen what things he could and couldn’t remember, regardless of whether it made any sense at all or not.

She would not dwell on his expression, and instead chose to ignore it, and move on. When he moved to one of the paintings, Sofia was able to close in and focus more on the details as he approached it. It was a city. And while it bared resemblance to something she might have seen somewhere, she couldn’t put a name to it quite yet. It was an odd feeling indeed. The notion that she knew its name, that she had either been there or seen something that enabled her to know. Still, the thought escaped her. It was right on the tip of her tongue, but it seemed to elude her nonetheless.

”I’m not sure what that is. It looks big and bad, likely even dark. A Demon perhaps?”

It was a bold claim but one that carried some weight anyways. At this point, she wasn’t even sure if he’d know what a Demon was. It seemed like a simple enough concept to understand, but seeing as he had issues figuring out what music and a violin were, yet he could define the concept of a painting and discern the tools used for one, she couldn’t be sure if these were some of the things he had chosen or been forced to remember or forget.

While there were several spiritual beings in the world, each unique and strong in their own way, the guess at a Demonic entity had its reason. For starters, Shadowfall controlled most of the world at large. There was no real way of knowing just yet unless there were signs that indicated it in the painting, but it looked as though it was America. Last she heard, that land had been infested and taken over by the dark kind. It wasn’t unheard of for the Demons to possess abilities that most deemed unnatural even for spiritually aware standards If it wasn’t the past, and hopefully not the present, there was a chance the painting could hint at a potential future. Of course there was also the more valid idea that the art was simply a projection of a broken mind, of a seemingly broken man, or simple the remembrance of nightmares.

Nothing was truly concrete, and nothing was set in stone. As she continued to look over the art with him, she only hoped either of them were able to pick up on details that would share some light as to the name or the location of the city. All else being perfect, they could narrow down not just the area, but the event that seemed to have occurred either within his head at some point, or god forbid, in the future, at some point down the road.

”Anything besides the giant woman that draws your eye most?”



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Subject Post 13PostSubject: Re: Wooden Symphony   Mon Dec 19, 2016 8:08 pm



Scrabbles



Sprache




Song: N/a STUFF - Artist: N/A STUFF - Words: N/A



How often exactly do you run in to violins out in the general public exactly? Once? Maybe twice? If you're stealing from a Cathedral? A violin is not exactly a common object for Sprache to draw a word association to. The only reason most people even know what a violin is comes from having a stalk of straw in their mouth, though they refer to it as a "fiddle," growing up around music your whole life, or from really really wanting to have sex with the ghost of Lindsey Stirling. It wasn't sure which of those was the most common justification for violin knowledge, Sprache would likely lean toward the last one. Paint on the other hand was bloody everywhere. On buildings, on walls, on the ground, hell even mashed up berries could function as paint. It was a cute attempt, but Sprache's ignorance in regards to identifying a violin on sight was hardly as widespread a concept as paint was. Clearly anyone who thought that was the kind of thing to harp on in a smattering of beautifully elegant and concise verbiage and eloquence was quite clearly a no good, rotten faced, doo doo head.

Sprache's head tilted to the side as she appraised the massive creature. Demon? That was a word he felt he should know. The man's brow furrowed again, this time rather clearly straining to look for a memory he certainly should have. 'Demon" was significant. Was that what that giant was? Were demons giants? There couldn't be a lot of them, he imagined he'd have noticed a bunch of creatures the size of one of those buildings. He wasn't exactly oblivious to large threatening things. Were demons not here? Were they only in that city? Was that a demon city? Did giants make cities? Not, that didn't make sense, those buildings couldn't house multiple giants. Unless they were demon coffins, that could be it...how did they open them?

Her voice once more broke him from his reverie and quite possibly not in the way she imagined or intended or...probably especially appreciated. Sprache's eyes, which had been diverted to the ground in frustration, had slowly rose back toward her before stopping on something that was truly memorable and not exactly in the most delicate fashion. Sprache wasn't necessarily oblivious to the physical reactions that opposite genders could elicit in one another, but to social niceties about staring at those reaction causers was not exactly something he had enjoyed a chance to relearn. Sprache's eyes had stopped right at that oft cited glorious rump and lingered for a time that was quite honestly far from appropriate. If she reacted negatively to it, Sprache didn't seem to notice while he stared and then, seemingly without provocation, the man jumped to his feet and raced to her side, moving around to thoroughly re-examine her face, not exactly honoring that whole personal space bubble thing. Anything short of violence however wasn't going to deter Sprache from the revelation his seemingly perverse leering had uncovered. The man turned from her, showing her his back as he dropped to his knees not far away from his artwork, a mixture of stress and enthusiasm lining his features.

Sprache, with a sense of purpose not at all befitting what he was doing in a vacuum, extended his hand and pointed straight at a smaller figure, handily smaller than the twenty foot tall monster that had occupied much of the picturesque skyline. His finger had drawn attention to a drawing a considerably smaller fraction of a size compared to the monster...and his finger rested squarely on the feminine shape's butt. Ignoring that Sprache had carved a perfect likeness of the woman's butt in miniature fashion in to the cave wall, other features were very reminiscent of Sofia's rear view portrait. Identical hair, build, frame, posture, gait, stance...Sprache even sort of managed to portray the way the woman carried herself through the art...capturing nearly everything about her visage save her face in to the stone face. Sprache withdrew his finger, ignoring that he just fondled her miniature ass, and turned his attention back up to her.

"I...I think it's you that draws my eye the most."

It'd have almost been romantic if he clearly wasn't talking about the wall and was clearly too socially removed to be intentionally charming. If she investigated further, she would notice other familiar shapes in the vicinity. The Wandenreich elect and her childhood friend could both be found in the image, each depicted in similar excruciating detail, the friend was even depicted in her Volstandig. Did he draw her? What did that mean? Especially what did it mean now that she found him? What was he drawing? Was their meeting coincidence? She didn't seem to know him at all which ruled out these being memories, at least not his own. If he was drawing the past then she'd have recognized the drawing, he imagined it was hard to forgot a giant woman demolishing a city. It couldn't be the present either as...well...they were there alone in the cave and certainly devoid of a roaming giantess and her skyscraping coffins, so that left portents of the future left as a possible explanation short of it all being the oddest of coincidences. Sprache's eyes drifted back down to the ground, almost a hint of shame splaying across his face. If that was true...then everything else in the cave was true too was it not? That was the future? That was their future? If it was, Sofia was not going to have a happy life or at the very least not a peaceful, loss free one.




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Subject Post 14PostSubject: Re: Wooden Symphony   Sat Dec 31, 2016 11:05 am


The Dark Hero



Sofia Montero





Song: N/a STUFF - Artist: N/A STUFF - Words: N/A



She would really need to think and reconsider her word choice with her new companion. His amnesia seemed to be not just odd, but extremely opportune in terms of what was recalled and what wasn’t. Beyond the violin, it troubled her that he could recall the definition and meaning of pain, but certain words like consequences were mistaken as names. He had said something like that earlier. It was both a little humorous and a little sad, and perhaps even akin to one of those things that make you stop and stare, and reconsider if the world is really worth living. After all, if her own name could be Consequences, then frankly why couldn’t paint be it too. Perhaps it was his artistically inclined lifestyle that made it so. Maybe if she were to speak words that were both common and familiar enough to him he would have known them. Drawing, dumb, douche. Yea, He would certainly know those, or at the very least most of them. One could only hope. One could only hope.

Though her thoughts in reminiscence of his amnesia stopped, his actions only created new questions and puzzling questions about himself she wasn’t sured she wanted answered. Watching come so close to her and so fast, it made her question just what kind of man he was. Under his confusing exterior, at least to her, laid a man that seemed to enjoy art and annoying her among other things. Quite frankly everyone should have their own hobbies and specialties other than being particularly efficient at annoying specific people. And while the quick gaze over her felt nice at first, stroking her ego ever so lightly, she had no choice but to breathe out in comfort. Even a prolonged second or more of uninterrupted starring could could have led to him stroking something else that seemed inappropriate and counterproductive to their amnesia-solving, future-predicting, cavemen-art endeavors. Once he had gotten up and away however she had to admit there was a slight sentiment of longing, or rather wishful thinking. Nothing she would admit to none other than herself. But even semi vain individuals liked to be looked in ways that invited jealousy and discord. Even the vain and modest enjoyed an ego stroking that would make a nun blush, or perhaps it was just her. Maybe.

Grumbling some as he walked away, the words would be heard as nothing more than blabbering majumbo. Her gaze was quickly directed to the art that drew his attention. His poise in one knee was reminiscent of a marriage proposal. Someone, at some point in history had decided it was the best way to do so. Supposedly someone figured if they were going to be indebted in servitude to the wife, they might as well start early. Regardless, there was something more puzzling and eye opening about the art than the conspicuous individual that made it. The figure, her body, the hair, the butt all looked very much like her own. It kind of brought up questions to whether or not the whole amnesia was a made up story and he was simply a lecherous pervert with nothing else to do but stalk her, stroke his… ego, and paint whatever dark fetishes such mind could create: Sofia and giant women included.


As she walked towards the art, she didn’t even seem to mind the comment. Whether he spoke about the art, her own body as it was on that day or both combined, the elements detailed in the wall required more compelling attention. By then there was no other explanation that she could think of. It was the future. None of the events shown there had happened before. And even if Sprache was some pervert with some crazed fascination for the ladies of the Wandenreich, it would be difficult to believe he knew of their particular skills, namely Toshiko’s Vollstandig. Then again, of the bunch, she was the most likely to show her release at a moment’s notice. But though that provided an answer, it only raised more questions.

”The problem is, when does this happen? I know you don’t know, but it seems kind of important.”

Just like in the movies she had seen regarding time travel or prophesies regarding it, the time frame was usually described quite vaguely. Knowing what would happen helped in a way, but being unaware as to when specifically made it a daunting task to approach and overthink. It also didn’t answer the question to who Sprache was, but in a way, each hint perhgaps lead closer to uncovering that. He could have been a seer or something of that fashion though that too was highly unlikely. There was an inherent wisdom required for such people that unfortunately seemed to have eluded him throughout most of his life. Walking behind him, she would place a hand atop his head in the most gentle and grateful of ways before speaking once more.

”You’re something special.” She figured he’d have something to say or at least think about in his own conspicuous, opportune-amnesiac style rhetoric, possibly somehow drawing a comparison between something and someone. But alas, with what had been presented before her, she had more important things to worry about.



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Subject Post 15PostSubject: Re: Wooden Symphony   Sat Jan 14, 2017 12:31 am



Scrabbles



Sprache




Song: N/a STUFF - Artist: N/A STUFF - Words: N/A



It was...difficult to really ascertain just what was going on inside Sofia's head. Not the least bit because Sprache himself didn't even know what was going on in his own head, but Sofia was something of a mystery all on her own. Ignoring that she met a guy in the woods and came back to his cave, which sounds like the opening set piece to the cheesiest of horror stories or eighties pornography and was deserving of psychological analysis all on its own, she didn't seem daunted by the acts of carnage that he drew nor did she seem especially phased by the prospect of a disheveled man in the woods being able to scratch the future in to a wall. Any one of those things would typically be cause to run away screaming for the hills. Instead, she stood right there and stared around as if he was a giant puzzle to solve instead of something she either needed to put down where he stood or something that she needed to run away from with the most reckless of abandons. Of course, that was based entirely on how the researchers when he woke up regarded him with fear and apprehension and how everyone else he had met so far had tried to kill him so maybe she was normal, maybe it wasn't unusual to stay and marvel at his weird and violent art instead of running or trying to kill him for it. Sprache wouldn't wager his dinner on it,

Sprache turned away from her, lost in that thought for a moment before he was jolted back to the pertinent situation by her words. If she knew he didn't know, then why did she ask? Was it not a question? He opened his mouth for a moment to question her not actually questioning before his lips shut again. Sprache made a small noise of discontent confusion at the gesture, trying his best not to think too hard about it less he fulfill that aneurysm. Just as he quieted that thought though, she spoke again and Sprache's head jerked around, swinging through to glare at her. Was that a compliment? He hadn't been given one before, at least not that he could remember. Wait, was it sarcasm instead? Was she being nice or condescending about Sprache and his abilities? How would he be able to tell the difference? A slight tinge of red coursed across his cheeks in embarrassment, he wasn't sure if it was at her complimenting him or mocking him though and he probably wasn't ever going to really know. Sprache pushed himself to his feet, casually dusting his backside off as his eyes trailed to the mouth of the cave. It was late, the sun had set awhile ago and the lingering light was fading from the the very air around them. He usually welcomed night like this. The animals had all typically taken the chance to embrace whatever quiet the world could provide. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought, he was not going to get to enjoy that tonight it looked like. Sofia seemed rather engrossed in the drawings and she likely wasn't leaving any time soon. Should he show her the rest of them? Would it be met with similar ridicule? Why exactly did he care how she treated or talked to him? Sprache's fist slightly balled at the thought, the confusion that came from not exactly knowing what is going on in his own head.

"There are more etchings deeper in the cave if you want to see them...I don't know what they mean."

Sprache didn't intend to escort her to them if she decided to investigate further. She'd be illuminated to them if she decided to go further down there with their faithful little orb companion. He had decided she wasn't a threat though and when the wildlife stilled to a soft quiet, Sprache had learned that this was the best time to attempt to get some sleep. He had let his power run wild earlier and while it had since calmed down and had stopped producing letters, Sprache had still generated enough to make something simple that would make his stay in his particular cave a little more bearable. The hunters had broken his last one.

~ B E D ~


The three Ginto left his hands floating out in to the air and hovered in space for a few moments before the very fabric of reality around the Ginto began to shift. The air shimmered and shifted as wood suddenly materialized in the air against the far wall of the cave. It was dark, Sprache had no idea if she could see what he was doing with only the light of the hovering ball of happiness that illuminated the illustrations but he had no reason to believe she couldn't do it if she took was a Quincy. He tried not to use this power so he didn't draw unnecessary attention to himself, but their altercation earlier had drawn any attention that he would have been subjected to that night and his energy was all over the place. A soft sigh escaped Sprache as the bed finished manifesting and eschewing the thought that Sprache's instructions needed to be especially specific, as a sheet and the mattress were provided with Sprache's word. He dropped his arms to his side and looked back over his shoulder at the woman.

"I'm going to go to sleep, I'm sure you can make your own bed right?"



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