TBOS Audition StoryMarx returned to his mom's apartment on a Sunday night. The weekend had been spent with his dad, which translated into two mornings in a row getting up at 6:00 a.m. to go hiking in the woods behind his dad's house. Marx didn't mind the hikes really, and he wasn't out of shape or anything. It was just that his dad was insanely in shape and didn't quite comprehend why anyone would want to walk the trails when they could jog.
So when Marx returned to his mom's place he was more than ready to drop his duffel at the door and pass out until he had to get up for school the next morning. It didn't quite happen like that, naturally.
The first thing he noticed was the smell, which rolled over him like a damp blanket the moment he opened his bedroom door. Marx gagged and managed the duffel-dropping part of his plans, at least. He was already reaching to slam the door shut when he caught sight of something that looked like an agitated sphere of mist hovering just above his desk. Marx froze,
TBOS Personality ProfileName: Sara Landwere
Build: Athletic, wide shoulders from swimming in high school
Hair: A thin, dull blond that is cut about to her chin. Tends to be flyaway and held back with a barrette or two.
Eyes: Brown, slanted just enough to show the Mongolian blood in her family tree
Facial Details: A wide, pale face, with a spray of freckles across a small nose and high cheekbones.
Chosen by: Mudd
Gift Description: A tobacco pipe. Mudd told her and Marx that it had the function of "Trouble." What that means precisely, they're waiting to find out.
Abilities: There's the big one, of course: she can see things that are meant to remain unseen. This includes a wide range of spirits, the true form of the fey folk, and magical energy. It's vaguely known in the magical community as Seeing. In addition, however, Sara is quite competent at reading and analyzing massive pieces of literature and obscure folktales (enough to earn a degree in it), making sn
PMOCT Gift ExchangeThe trouble began with the tree. Organized Cat didn't know who'd sent the potted tree, of course. Otherwise he'd have written the gift giver a stern letter concerning the rudeness of leaving trees on peoples' doorsteps. Or he'd have snuck into their house and torn their good upholstery.
But in the end, Organized Cat did not know who had thought a tree would make a good gift. Hence, all Organized Cat could do was peer grumpily at the pot and consider what to do with it. He then heard a sound above him and looked up to find two items of interest.
The first was a ripe, golden pear. Then there was the fat bird sitting next to the pear.
"Don't believe it," Organized Cat said after a moment. "They left a partridge in a pear tree." He thought on this, wondered how partridges tasted, then went back inside and took a nap. He decided a solution could come when he'd woken up.
But when Organized Cat woke up he merely found the pear tree and the partridge inside the house.
"The tree will die in the
PMOCT Round 3- EpilogueHer clothes smelled like smoke. Not a light woody smell, but a thick stench. Sorrel shivered and tightened her grip around her knees. The rain fell in sheets above her, slamming into the flimsy aluminum roof that, Sorrel reflected, looked as if it should cave in on her at any moment. She tried to focus on her situation. One, she was in a shed, in the gardens right next to the Hospital. It sat close enough to the massive white building for her to still hear a few muffled screams drift through the rain's patter. Dionysus's madness had passed through the entire Hospital, or so Sorrel guessed based on the she screwed her eyes shut and tried to banish the thoughts. Two, she refocused, she had lost Osteo and Tadd was no longer a resource. She couldn't guess where either had ended up, and she didn't care to try and guess. Because, three, she had Aslan, who was still unconscious. And that made any inconspicuous movement around Knossos nigh impossible. Therefore, four, she
PMOCT Round 3- Part 3The morning after this incident, Persephone reported a stronger heartbeat in Aslan, which managed to lift Sorrel's mood slightly. After she'd left them, Sorrel had perched herself on a chair beside Aslan's gurney and studied him. She wondered if he still could send people to sleep with his voice, or whether he still had those berserker moments, for lack of a better term. Better yet, she wondered if he would still be himself when he woke.
Because in all, she wondered whether the dryaid was the only person in the room who did not wish her some level of ill will. She didn't want to openly admit this sentiment to herself, but it was there.
Sorrel looked to Tadd, who sat skimming over his notes. "Tadd?" Sorrel spoke. The scientist glanced up, and she saw how glassy his eyes had become. "Hm?" he said. She hesitated. "You don't act like your here against your will. It's a little unnerving." Tadd laughed, and it sounded odd as it echoed across the tile floor.
PMOCT Round 3- Part 2Sorrel woke slowly. She'd been having a nice dream; she couldn't remember it, but it left a warmth in her chest and she felt loath to leave it. Sorrel clenched her eyes shut and sensed some dim disturbance in the waking world.
"Little girl's got stars in her skin," someone's voice floated to her. Her lids were peeled open, allowing cold air and light to rush into her eyes. Sorrel yelled and jerked her head up. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the gun, which she'd been clutching in her hand. "Ahaha!" the voice sounded utterly delighted. "You going to shoot me, girly?"
Sorrel caught an impression of massive purple hair before she blinked hard, then opened her eyes again to see a man. He crouched beside her, skinny and wrapped in a drooping robe. Sorrel didn't like his eyes; they were too wide and bloodshot and darting.
"No," she heard herself say in a groggy voice. "I wasn't planning on it."
"Hm," he said sagely. "Good idea. Never know what comes out of t
PMOCT Round 3- Part 1When they opened the door, Sorrel had been half-expecting a trap of some sort. She'd considered it for the entire time that they moved down the prison hall, up in the tiny room with the buttons (Tadd had called it an elevator. Even with a gun to his head, Sorrel noted, he seemed unable to keep himself quiet. Not that she was complaining) and through a vast network of halls and room that Tadd told them made up the secret underground level of the main Hospital building.
They'd had a few close calls, but nothing that couldn't be handled with a moment or two of staying breathlessly pinned against a wall, or in one case, a swift bludgeon from Osteo's bone-heavy fist. But as they'd paused before a solid metal door, and Tadd had punched in a series of buttons, Sorrel had found herself wondering whether a heavy fist would do much good against a squad of nymphs.
Then the door cracked, and no nymphs appeared. Just a hollow sucking sound and the mellow bleeping of some mach
PMOCT Round 3- PrologueArtemis didn't know what to call it. It felt similar to what she experienced right before a conflict, with the tense muscles and over-alert senses. But there was another element to the way her blood rushed beneath her skin, some aspect she couldn't quite pin down.
"This isn't going to end well," Beta, Artemis's lieutenant muttered beside her. Artemis cocked her head ever so slightly towards Beta.
"You will remain silent," she said, "and I will talk. Don't worry about how it ends." Beta nodded silently.
Artemis fingered the cool surface of one of her silver pistols irritably, for she suddenly recognized what she felt. Nervousness.
She did not like feeling nervous.
The door swung open and Artemis dropped her thoughts to lead the way into the cool, dark interior of Minos's office.
"You've heard?" Minos's voice sounded thin as the G.O.D. and nymph paused several paces from his desk. "Yes sir." Silence, as Minos shifted in his seat.
"I expect p
PMOCT- Round 2, Epilogue
Hestia looked up from the pipes she was working in as a familiar golden-haired figure appeared near her. She straightened herself with a light grunt, and pushed a strand of hair from her flushed face.
"How're you, Apollo?" she greeted.
"Very well," Apollo glanced to the pipes. "I won't keep you from your work. I just came to thank you."
"Allowing me to speak to Sorrel. If recent news from Athene are true, then I have reason to hope that my talk with her has produced the results I desired."
Hestia blinked. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she said he was welcome nonetheless.
The Dryaid lay motionless on the table. He was still alive, technically. The system monitoring his vitals still beeped in time with the Dryaid's heartbeat, the screen still flashed with every rise or drop in blood pressure. Sap pressure, Tadd corrected himself. But as Tadd rechecked the tubes that slipped into the Dryaid's main artery, and as his eyes drifted reluctantly across the still,