hh_mirror | love, lift us up where we belong! (open rp, all school)

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love, lift us up where we belong! (open rp, all school)

The Sorting Hat kept up with the trends! It knew that the world was scheduled to end on May 21, and all the righteous would be uplifted to Heaven.

Since the Sorting Hat knew itself to be the wisest and most righteous being of all, it came to the most logical conclusion.

Upon waking from a nap on the afternoon of the 21st, and realizing it was still at Hogwarts, the Hat understood that it was already in Heaven.

Hogwarts was heaven.

"Halos and harps for everyone!" the Hat decreed.

And so it was. House elves brought everyone gilt halos and strap-on wings and hand-held harps, or autoharps, or the occasional harmonica (the house elves had taken to tasing one another for fun, and their mental acuity was not what it once was). The Great Hall (still home to the wax display of Hatsguard Heroes, mind you) was bedecked in white draperies, tinsel, and leftover battle fog from the Harkonnen Dining Experience machines (the Hat felt this would create a cloudlike effect). Angel food cake and ambrosia were the evening meal. Oh, and cans of Red Bull ((at player suggestion, because it GIVES YOU WINGS)).

~~Debbie Gibson's~~ BELINDA CARLISLE's "Heaven Is a Place on Earth" was piped through WART, the insipid soundtrack of Hat Heaven. Alternating with the Elvenking cover of same ((thanks to Igor-mun)).

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Admiral Zex flapped his wings. He was still resplendent in his pink prefect's bow and he seemed totally preoccupied with his wings. Stroking the white feathers with his tentacle arms, he muttered "Bodily mutations! How strange! And yet, how wonderful!"

Andrew Jackson said as the house elves found a way to attach wings to his ears. Now he wasn't just a flying disembodied presidential head. He was a winged flying disembodied presidential head.

"You're a disembodied head." Rat blinked, his surly expression momentarily replaced with confusion. Also, he didn't recognize the president.

"Oh. What the hell are you then, a ghost?" Rat idly flapped his wings, hovering a foot off the ground.

All said with his eyes beginning to glow, ready to zap Rat if he showed some lip.

Rat rolled his eyes.
"Oh yeah? Who the fuck would let a floating head be president of anything?"

And he started to zap in Rat's direction, aiming for the wings.

"Gah!" He let out a startled cry as his back and wings were zapped. Landing heavily on the ground, he groaned "That's it, fucker. Come down here and say that."

He moved down until he was only inches away from Rat, giant eyes staring into Rat's.

Rat slapped at the head. Of course his martial arts skills were little use from flat on his face. "Yeah, I know" he muttered. Stupid talking head.

Andrew Jackson laughed.

Rat propped himself up, swung onto his feet and tried to kick out at the skull. The wings made him overbalance and he missed.
"Crap!"

Andrew Jackson continued to laugh, amused by the kid that was trying to kick him. It was hilarious.

"Oh fuck yeah!" Panty said as she entered the Great Hall. "I'll fit right in!" When offered wings and a halo, Panty waved it away. "No need, I brought my own." And she began her transformation sequence.

This is so cool! Wishbone said as he ran around, wings bouncing with each step. I'm an angel!

Shoggies were usually attracted to a ruckus, which anything that happened in the Great Hall tended to be- the first few Shoggies to show up hung around near the entrance for a moment, murmuring their typical ooooohs and 'soooo cools' as they took everything in, awaiting the arrival of more of their amorphous brethren. Most of these accepted offerings of harps or harmonicas from the house-elves, although these were promptly eaten. ("Sooo stringy!") Soon, a good-sized crowd of Shoggies had arrived, and they predictably rushed the food tables. This, of course included the cans of Red Bull, which they enveloped whole. "Oooooh, sooo crunchy!" was the main subject of Shoggy-chatter for a few minutes.

A few minutes later, the chatter abruptly took the predictable turn. "Soooo cool! I got wings and they work!" declared a Shoggy that now hovered above the rest, flapping a pair of rudimentary wings that had suddenly sprouted from its main mass. Within seconds, wings began erupting from the mass of Shoggies. Exultant cries of "Ooooh! I can fly" echoed through the Great Hall, and soon, the upper reaches of the room were clouded by an amorphous flock of noisy monstrosities. A number of them were singing along with the repetitive soundtrack by this point, with the number increasing with every round of the song.

One little group of Shoggies left the Great Hall, realizing that their new airborne condition might make for a very tasty trip to the owlery, but the majority were content to remain. Another little group had descended upon the wax sculptures of the Hatsguard Heroes, and were gnawing at the one of themselves. ("Oooooh, we're soooo tasteless."). The fact that the wax sculptures weren't especially flavorful is likely what saved most of them from defacement. Occasionally, Shoggies would clumsily sweep down from above to devour something tasty they noticed below, their descent usually heralded by a shower of acidic drool. The Shoggy voices soon began to drown out the music's vocal accompaniment, their weird piping voices harmonizing like some choir of unholy cherubim.

Skwisgaar had decided to head to the Great Hall for a snack, where there would be less temptation to interrupt Toki's model building time -- but not before inviting Toki to come join him once he was finished, of course ~~if his mun feels like having Toki enjoy the festivities too~~.

He watched with a bemused expression as the house elves insistently haloed and winged him, but waved off the offered harmonica in favour of his electric guitar that he was already holding. If he had to be an angel, better to be a properly metal one. He was busy enjoying some cake and contemplating whether he actually liked the power metal cover of the song when his wings, which he'd previously thought were fake, began to lift him of their own accord. He took his plate of cake with him as he drifted higher, passing Shoggies on the way.

"Ums... Does you goofballs know whats all this craps ams about?" he asked no Shoggy in particular, addressing the group of them. His wings seemed to take this as a sign to stop flying him higher, and with a shrug he simply resumed eating, as though he weren't hovering a somewhat worrisome distance off the ground.

The 'eyesball throw-up children' of course accompanied Skwisgaar on his way to the Great Hall, having been encouraged to do so by a model-building Toki so that he could finish up the last details on the model jet he was assembling. ~~He'll finish up and be added to the thread soon!~~ Somehow, even before reaching the Great Hall, the four Shoggies began quivering with excitement, sensing that something interesting was going on. They rushed ahead of their 'Master-Skwisgaar-Dad" and by the time the guitarist arrived they had already eaten their haloes and were milling about with the rest of the Shoggies, rushing over to the cakes and cans of Red Bull in order to partake in its strange magic.

"It's sooo cool!" the Shoggy nearest Skwisgaar replied (which happened to be Shoggy 15). "It's a party for. . . what's the party for?" The Shoggy queried the nearest Shoggy, who replied with the expected "I don't know! Shoggy, what this party for?", a chain reaction which went around the room for a moment. In the end, Shoggy 13 fluttered over with the Shoggies' final answer. "We think that maybe it's a party for making a heaven? We're not sure what one is, but, it's a place on earth where love comes first." "Love for cakes!" "And it's sooo fun. We got wings." "And so do you!" "You look soooo cool!" "We wants to fly forevers!" Shoggy 3 announced, winging its amorphous way back to its parental figure with the other 'children', all of whom were now airborne and rather saturated with sugar. It, and the other 'children' had also managed to acquire instruments without eating them- possibly because unlike the other Shoggies, Skwisgaar and Toki's had been familiarized with the concept of musical instruments and what to do with them. "We gots instrusments too now, Master-Skwisgaar Dad!" Shoggy 10 exclaimed. "We can bes a band withs you." Shoggy 4.6 smashed a pseudopod against the autoharp it held in another, producing a discordant tone. "I mades music!"

The Shoggies' collective answers were about as helpful as could be expected from them, but they did help jog Skwisgaar's memory. On his most recent jaunt back through the portal to Mordhaus, he'd lounged around watching television for several hours, and there had been mentions of "heaven" on the news as well...

"Oh ja! That raptures bullshits!" he exclaimed upon remembering. "The news says something abouts how some olds guy decides the worlds ams supposed to ends the other day. Guess this ams to celebrates that dildo beings wrong.

Pfft, Christianitys," eloquently summed up the self-proclaimed Nihilist's thoughts on the matter. To him, all that Christianity consisted of was punishing people for being people, paedophile priests, and end of the world proclamations. And it was responsible for Toki's back being a mess of scars, which was in truth the main source of Skwisgaar's hatred for the religion as a whole.

"The wings is kind ofs cool I guess," he decided, and his own pair seemed to give a flutter of recognition. "Yous goofballs should just keeps them ifs you wants to. Then yous can flys with your bigs brother Smaug, too."

He visibly brightened at the prospect of his adopted monstrosities playing music. "Yous takes after both your dads," he said with parental pride, and fed the rest of his cake, plate, and fork to the nearest Shoggy. He pulled his guitar around and muttered the charm that would make it audible even without an amp, then proceeded to play a series of fast arpeggios (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8Mh0-vOytk), the sound of his guitar ringing out over the WART music being broadcast. "Now we just gots to teach you the rights kind of music to plays. Reals music. Nones of that dildos pop shit, okay?"

((So sorry for slowness!))

The Shoggies were pretty much clueless about Christianity and it's young little god, who didn't fit in very well with their own archaic pantheon. They were pretty sure they knew exactly how the world was supposed to end, and, didn't think it likely to happen anytime soon. "The Stars are taking soooo long to be Right," a Shoggy lamented. "That old guy's Great Master Cthulhoo, and when he wakes up he'll eat everyone." A few of the confused Shoggies gave a concise version of their own concept of Earth's doom. "Almost everyone. He'll probably step on a few." "He'll eat the Christianitys!" "And then Master Nyarly can finish up! It'll be sooo cool!"

"Our wings is sooo cool, Master-Skwisgaar-Dad!" Shoggy 3 said. "We think we gots them from the shiny cans!" The Shoggies' Red Bull induced wings weren't exactly impressive looking, half-formed and only partially feathery as they were, but they served well enough to keep them aloft with somewhat unpredictable flight patterns. "You can gets us more cans to flys with our brother!" suggested Shoggy 10, ~~and their mun does think that the Shoggies should continue to have this particular reaction to Red Bull because it's amusing.~~

Shoggy 18 was delighted to be the recipient of Skwisgaar's cake and cutlery, and chomped it down entire as it watched and listened to Skwisgaar's arpeggios, an undercurrent of ooooohs traveling about the flock of Shoggies, temporarily stilling their song imitation, which would have been rather drowned-out by the magically-amplified guitar anyway. Shoggy 4.6 attempted its own version on the autoharp, flailing a pseudopod as fast as it could, and the other 'children' quickly followed suit. Shoggies 3 and 18 smashed their pseudopods against the strings of their harps (both managing to break a couple of strings), while Shoggy 10 attempted to do the same with a harmonica, rather disappointed in the lack of result. Nevertheless, the surrounding Shoggies found the awful but enthusiastic effort to be "sooo cool". "Teach to us the rights kind of music, Master-Skwisgaar-Dad!" Shoggy 3 piped, the entreaty echoed by the other 'children' as well as a few random nearby Shoggies.

By this point, Toki had finished with his model-making, having applied the last details, and figured he'd go and catch up with Skwisgaar. That something was a little unusual was evident when he met a few flying Shoggies in the hallway, and he wasn't especially surprised when a house-elf accosted him to foist wings and musical instruments upon him. It took him a moment to notice Skwisgaar amongst the Shoggy swarm, when his attention was drawn to the unmistakable sound of the Swede's guitar. "How's you get up there, Skwisgaar?" he called, to which his wings somehow responded, and he found himself ascending through a swarm of Shoggies. He'd been unable to fend off the advances of house elves with musical instruments, and currently carried a zither that looked much like the one he'd had to play for the Mustakrakish lullaby. "The house-elves mades me take it, don't know what it's supposed to be for." "For bands Master-Toki-Mom!" Shoggy 4.6 helpfully supplied.

Megan held her harp in one hand and her wings in the other, having put on the halo as soon as she'd received it. Haloes were great. "Um." She flapped her own wings, all four of them, which were pretty and rainbow colored and fairy-like and not fluffy like the ones she was holding, and frowned down at the ones in her hand. "So... am I supposed to put these on over mine, or...?" She looked up plaintively.

WOOCHA!

Run around enough times, and you'd eventually take off.

I feel just like Daedalus!

"...right." Megan ~~who could add "Greek Mythology" to the list of stuff that Wasn't Really Her Thing~~ looked doubtfully at the dog, who at least didn't already have something blocking the way for the really cute little wings, and turned her attention back to the conundrum at hand. "Maybe if I press mine down first?" She squshed hers as flat as they'd go, and tried manuvering the wings high up on her shoulders. It was really uncomfortable, and opening her wings made the fake ones ride up. "Oh, this sucks! And they're so cute!"

Why don't you try wearing them around your waist? Wishbone suggested, hovering. Then you can be a seraph!

What? Wishbone's read parts of the bible too. The story parts and stuff, not the laws.

"I can be a... whatever, it's not a bad idea." She shimmied out of the wings and, with a lot of effort and some muttered threats, got them to stick out at about waist-level, straight out to the sides. "There," she said, satisfied. "It's, um... I can work with this, right?"

Yeah! Now you have six wings like a seraph! Wishbone circled around.

Megan tested out her balance with the additional wings, hovering a bit off the ground. It didn't throw her balance as off as, say, tying a sock around a cat's waist (http://youtu.be/0mVP2_g1dTI), but it definitely took some getting used to. She strummed experimentally on the harp. It sounded awful, so she stopped and decided to just keep it as an accessory. "Right, I think I got this. Hey, I'll race you to the ceiling!"

You're on! Wishbone got beside Megan. Ready...set....GO!

This...this was just wrong. On so many levels. Castiel and Death had returned from their brief sabbatical just in time to witness this newest of the Hat's atrocities, and it had the angel positively flummoxed.

Cas had declined the wings, as he already owned a perfectly serviceable set of his own, thank you very much, and the halo, which...no, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do with the rather cheaply-constructed and out-of-tune harp he'd been presented with. (His only participation in the Music of the Spheres had been as part of the Heavenly Choirs, and even then only when protocol had demanded. His brothers had wisely relegated him to the very back.)

The fact that he found Hogwarts cosplaying as Heaven and awash in chaos still a vastly more peaceful, comforting and all-around pleasant place to be than the actual place itself probably wasn't doing much to improve his mood. Neither did catching sight of his own wax sculpture again. While it wasn't a bad likeness, he was fairly certain he hadn't been armed with a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher when they battled the terrorbear, and he certainly hadn't had a winged Shoggoth gnawing at his ankles.

"I suppose it could be worse," he said resignedly, ducking an unspecified Shoggy who was badly in need of flight lessons. "At least he didn't decide the place is Hell." He wondered what Crowley was making of all this.

While his younger brother was finding the entire spectacle.. (well, who could really tell just how he was finding it, really.) Cas's expressions ranged from slightly confused to mildly annoyed - and that was on a good day. Gabriel found the Great Hall and the decorations hilarious. The archangel had also declined the wings, but decided to manifest his own and they flexed idly behind him, insubstantial and glimmering like the night-dark sky.

He sat in a chair, his feet propped up on the table, playing a passably good blues tune on the harmonica. The halo that had been given to him was now a pair of sparkly little devil horns.

"Oh lighten up, Cas. Come on, the little flying things," and he ducked the same Shoggy that had flown at his brother's head, "at least it's better than a bunch of naked Cupids."

Lenneth had refused the wings, and halo. The silver haired woman already had her own wings, which she had called into existence to gently wrap around her as she held the harp carefully. It was a pretty instrument and she loved the sounds that came from it as she gently plucked the strings. She didn't know how to play an instrument and didn't know where to ask if anyone could show her.

It was with childlike curiosity that she began to pluck at the strings more experimentally, trying to create her own tune. It didn't sound horrible, to her pleasure but it certainly wasn't music. Lenneth wasn't sure a harp could ever sound horrible, she was really quite taken with the instrument. ~~Someone is welcome to prove her wrong.~~

After awhile of ~~sucking at~~ playing with the harp, Lenneth found herself wandering towards the tables to look over the angel food cake and Red Bull. Well, there's no such thing as energy drink on Midgard (that she's aware of, she didn't spend more time than necessary there) and while she may not need energy she is curious about the taste.

What adolescent boy doesn't fantasize about having the ability to turn invisible, to watch the women he desires? Ever since shedding his mortal form, Lezard had indulged in this pleasure (http://lparchive.org/Valkyrie-Profile/Update%2039/img-30.jpg) (though he would reveal his presence (http://lparchive.org/Valkyrie-Profile/Update%2039/img-32.jpg) if the moment suited him, and promptly deny any voyeuristic activity).

Throughout Lenneth's Sorting, Lezard had watched and listened, his presence veiled in immateriality. It wasn't because he hoped to hide. Indeed, he expected that Lenneth had tracked him here, following the signature of his energy-pattern just as she'd done once before. His trail would be all the clearer for the Odinic energy he'd stolen and incorporated into himself. Perhaps it even resonated with Lenneth's own divine power, through the resonance with Silmeria's energy he'd achieved during that time when he kept the youngest Valkyrie preserved in crystal. He'd tapped Silmeria's power to build his world tree, used her like a battery, but it was through his own hands that the power flowed, by his own hands that the power was shaped.

(He'd had a time with Silmeria here at Hogwarts, too; it had been educational and tiresome by turns. He hadn't yet decided whether to conceal it from Lenneth, or to taunt her with it.)

No, he was sure Lenneth would find him, and sooner rather than later. He lingered in invisibility only for the sheer sneaky delight of it, the pleasure of observing her unseen. He knew that the moment he addressed her, she'd snap into the forbidding stance of the righteous warrior-goddess. The softness she could show in unguarded moments, the uncertainty of Platina overlaid with the unworldliness of Valkyrie — these aspects he savored would all be hidden away.

He followed her from the Sorting Room; he followed her into the Hat's curious Heaven; he listened with a secret smile as she dabbled with arts unwarlike.

It was as she took her first sip from the silver-and-blue canister of energy drink that Lezard materialized behind her. Waves of diffuse white light rolled off his newly-aggregated form, shed like layers of skin, or like water. Yet he was fully attired in the dark suit he'd worn when she first confronted him at his Tower, for this was how he envisioned himself, and the form taken always matched the pattern one's soul truly held.

"In this afterlife, you find the one you thought slain," he said, voice low and quiet, pitched only for her ear.

The moment she sensed him materialize behind her, Lenneth almost choked and coughed up the Red Bull. With only a slight tensing of her wings and a moment to compose herself was she able to keep from doing something so undignified. Slowly, she turned around and looked towards Lezard. She tried to keep her expression neutral but her eyes still narrowed at him.

"I was curious as to when you'd show yourself." She still wore her armor, having not thought to change out of it and into something more appropriate after she had been sorted, and for that she was glad now. One hand held onto the can and her other was lose at her side, close to her sword. Lenneth wanted it as close as it could be.

"I've heard of your deeds here." The goddess felt uneasy, knowing that he still held Odin's powers but she made sure that it did not show in her expression. "It shames me to know what the powers you stole are being used for." Namely, childish antics. She'll not name who mentioned anything to her, nobody needs any more trouble than he's already caused or will cause.

He laughed lightly, and answered as quietly as he'd first spoken. "Why should I not amuse myself? I have so few pleasures. Should I seek to shake the foundations of every world, in everything I do?"

His cloak fluttered and swirled in the Hat's battle-fog.

"Entertaining yourself appears to be at other people expense. It's cruel and distasteful. If that's the only way you can amuse yourself, then that alone is a perfectly good explanation of why not to." Lenneth frowns at his laughter. For some reason, it made her feel like he was mocking her. And with that, she drinks a more of the Red Bull and feels more of that giddy/excited feeling build up a bit.

"I can at least take consolation in the fact that you didn't destroy this place as you did the nine realms."

"I destroy what does not change and grow. I find stagnation displeasing. This place ..." Lezard gestured grandly to encompass the whole of the wing-flappin', autoharp-strummin' Great Hall, figuratively extended to the school beyond. "... is far from stagnant. It is productive chaos! And it entertains me indeed."

He stepped closer. "You were made by a god who ceased to be interesting long before I put a merciful end to his boring, static reign. He made you to be similarly single-minded, similarly humorless. Yet you found it within yourself to be other. You became the Creator, o goddess of mine. That should promise a change. Has it, really, produced anything beyond the re-establishment of Odin's boring old Midgard? Did you do anything of your own, beyond repairing what Odin made and Ragnarok destroyed?" Glancing down at the silver-and-blue can in her hand, then up again to catch her gaze with his own intense eyes, Lezard murmured: "Tell me what truly entertains you."

"What right had you to decide that it was all stagnating? What right had you to destroy it?" Lenneth shakes her head, feeling like she was talking to Freya the day of Ragnarok. "Of course you'd find entertainment in that."

As he steps closer, Lenneth takes a step back. This is more for the sake of her own comfort than anything. Fear was not something she felt around him.

"I am not yours." First and foremost. "And I restored the lives lost, rather than change everything they knew into something I think better. It wasn't my choice, everything would develop as the mortals saw fit. I would do what was in my power to help them, not force them onto another path. I won't judge Odin for his deeds, he's dead in both realities. Nothing can come from speaking badly of the dead."

What entertains her? Lenneth is silent for awhile after that. Not because she doesn't want to answer, though part of it is for that reason, but because she never gave it any thought. Music was nice, and swimming...

"Why do you care to know?" Lenneth asks, totally avoiding answering if she can.

Lezard shook his head, slowly, as if saddened — the look of one who took no pleasure in his own vindication. "Still you speak as a creature of Odin, who made you to serve. It's no different, really. To substitute mortals for the gods, to fix their world for them and give it into their hands, that was to remain a servant. You only changed one master for another. I want to know what entertains you, what gives you diversion or — dare I say it — pleasure, for your own sake and not for the service of others. Have you not the strength to exist outside servitude?"

"I serve no one any longer, Lezard!" She's either too ticked off to call him 'necromancer' and 'defiler of souls' or she's actually getting used to him being around. Lenneth would argue the former to the end of time and wonders how persistent he'll be on this topic. With a drawn out, irritated sigh, the woman answers:

"Music. When I had no duties to attend to, I often listened to some of the gods play their instruments or sing. I had always thought Frei had a lovely voice."

Turlough looked around. "Great. Someone let the Hat loose again." Sighing as the halo and wings were forced on him, Turlough decided to just go with it for now and went to the food table.

He peered at the can of Red Bull he picked up. Shrugging, he cracked it open and took a sip.

"Hm, not bad."

SOMETHING LIKE THREE CANS LATER...

"WHEEEEEEEEE!" Turlough said, grinning manically, running around the Great Hall, downing Red Bull. Seems Red Bull's formula and Trion physiology are a bad combo. It affects them faster. "THIS IS GREAT AND THE WINGS ARE GREAT AND THE DRINK IS GREAT AND THE FOOD IS GREAT!"

"WHOA! Look out!" The Doctor slams into him looking disoriented. He hadn't opened the energy drink yet, but it did seem as though he'd yet to master the wings that had been forced on him. They seemed to have a mind of their own, jerking him this way and that and keeping him against the ceiling like an escaped balloon.

"Turlough?"

"HI DOCTOR! HI DOCTOR! HAVE YOU TRIED THIS STUFF IT'S GREAT!" Turlough ran around in a circle and giggled as he began to float.

The Doctor stared At Turlough, taken aback by his behavior. He'd never seen the Trion get excited about. Anything so this was quite surreal.

"DOCTOR WHY HAVEN'T I TRIED THIS BEFORE NOW I FEEL SO ENERGIZED AND HAPPY!" Turlough said, downing more Red Bull.

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love, lift us up where we belong! (open rp, all school)

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