hh_mirror | Entries tagged with blind seer

ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com

The party was not intended to celebrate Halloween, actually, but to celebrate the existence of pumpkins. It just seemed Halloween would be a good time for that kind of a celebration.

Wizarding culture had a special regard for the pumpkin, making it into tarts and juice and savories, forcing it down the gullets of every magic-user from such a tender age as to form a lifelong habit. The Sorting Hat, being steeped in magic, had also steeped itself in many a vessel of pumpkin juice over the centuries of its storied existence. Pumpkin juice, pumpkin ale, pumpkin hooch. Gooey pumpkin-gut strings, luxurious nutrient-rich slime studded with pale seeds. Oh pumpkins, glorious gourd of wizard's delight!

The Hat had dubbed this party after one of its favorite recipes: the LUSCIOUS PUMPKIN JAM.

The huge doors of the Great Hall were open. While magic kept the chill seasonal drafts from the Great Hall itself, party-goers who wished to enjoy the crisp autumn air could do so from the luxury of a pumpkin carriage. These were quite literally hollowed pumpkins that the Hat's magic had transfigured into full-size carriages, capable of carrying several occupants. Each was lit from within by enchanted candles, and studded with gleaming black jewels, with carved faces in lieu of windows. Several of the enchanted wonders were lined up outside the doors, with their house-elf coachmen ready to whisk students around the school grounds in slightly-gooey, pumpkin-scented comfort.

Indoors, all was warm and merry, and candlelit, and mostly orange. Instead of bobbing for apples, guests could bob for miniature pumpkins, the sort Martha Stewart might have used to decorate a mantelpiece, their tub filled with pumpkin juice in lieu of water. A pumpkin-carving station took prominent position near the doors, with paints and yarn to bedeck uncarved gourds for those students uninterested in pulling out pumpkin pulp. Tables had been moved to accommodate a dance floor, with a karaoke machine placed nearby. Golems inspired by Arcimboldo, wholly composed of autumnal fruits, did duty as waiters and DJs.

From the vantage of the head table, elevated above the main body of the hall, the Hat could take in all at once the entire spectacle. Satisfied, it rapped a self-congratulatory pastiche/homage:

"There ain't no party like a Sorting Hat party 'cause a Sorting Hat party don't STOP!"

The Hat felt most coolio itself, extending a strap to caress languidly the sequined sombrero that lay beside its place at the Great Hall's head table. The sombrero did not respond, of course. It was rather like the hat-equivalent of a RealDoll. Inert though it might be, the sombrero was velvety AND blingy, and that was what mattered.

hernes-son.livejournal.com

Without warning, he returned.

Time held little meaning in the Great Forest. All Robin knew was that he had been here, to this place, this… Hogwarts… before. How long ago and what had happened to him here was unclear, his memory of those days hazy at best.

Now he found himself in a room full of… somethings. Deliciously scented, buttery white puffs. His stomach rumbled and he raised a hand to pat his midsection, finding his tunic unaccountably greasy. And not just his tunic. He looked down in surprise.

Robin cocked a brow. Was he, himself, covered in… butter?

terminator1000.livejournal.com

((Already cleared this with the other Terminator canon player.

Check out my journal for info that may be relevant to how characters perceive the T-1000, e.g. T-1000s don't produce body heat, and presumably don't/can't simulate a human scent, which could explain why dogs can pick them out. I'm also fine with characters recognising him in a nudging-the-fourth-wall way (such as if the Terminator movies exist as fiction in their canon), but please don't break it.))

A highly reflective, metallic liquid had been dripping from the ceiling of the Sorting Room for several minutes. As it pooled, it slowly began to rise, its contours filling out into a humanoid shape. Its surface rippled and formed synthetic skin, pale eyes, short cropped hair. Soon it looked perfectly human.

Whip-thin and muscular, not to mention rather naked, it had the appearance of a man. The "man" methodically surveyed his surroundings, then stepped toward the sole object in the room -- a desk. He encountered some difficulty there, as his feet returned to a liquid metal state and took on the appearance of the stone floor against his will. A scan of his systems indicated acute internal damage in several sectors, possibly caused by whatever had brought him to this place, since he knew he hadn't arrived through the usual time travelling method. There was also an unusual field of energy that he could sense, and it was interfering with his functions -- he could not even recall where he'd been transported from, nor what his prime directive was.

Once his feet were cooperating again, he finished his trek to the desk and looked it over. Parchment was strewn across it, there was a bottle of ink, and a quill hovered expectantly. With a final glance at his surroundings, he leant down to examine the quill. Almost as an afterthought, a nondescript police uniform bled out from his skin to "clothe" him. He did remember that nudity tended to startle people, and it seemed best to avoid that while figuring out what was going on.

( An unusual interrogation. )

I have read the

hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. T-1000
I have read the

hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. T-1000
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. T-1000
One day, ~~marmalade~~ machines will rule the world. T-1000

advancegenetics.livejournal.com

Ozymandias woke with a strangled gasp and his hands immediately flew to his chest, right to where the bullet had pierced, he knew it had, he felt the burn then it was lights out, look out below, man down and Oz was crashing through the trees to the forest floor below, he didn't even remember his body making impact, then how was he alive. He sniffed the air his wings rustled around him as he knew immediately he was not some where familiar, no scent was one he knew, he found himself in a strange room, what was happening? His chest, it didn't even hurt, but he could feel the scar that told him that bullet was no dream. With an almost bird like chitter, Ozymandias called out "Max? Hey Max? Ic, buddy, where you at? Come on, I thought you came out of the closet a long time ago?" He joked, referencing his friends habit of sleeping in the closet at Frannie's cabin. But neither of them answered "Matthew? Wendy, Peter, Frannie?!" His voice rose higher and higher with each name he called and received no response, the last one was nearly a wail "KIT?!?!". But no one answered and he met with resistance as he went to try and leave the room, falling back on to his behind the boy began to stalk the room he was in till his eyes fell on a piece of paper, he walked over and cautiously looked down.

( Reading the first question out loud he jumped back as the pen wavered as if ready to write some thing. )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. SR
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. SR.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. SR.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. SR"

righteous-pen.livejournal.com

It was the first thing Teru had done in - too long. Months. He'd told himself that nothing was wrong, that in a school full of demonic psychopaths it was only sensible to keep to himself. But that wasn't why he isolated himself, and he knew it.

Humans shouldn't know the day they'll die. He'd let himself despair over it, let himself stagnate, become one of the very things he'd wanted to see the world cleansed of. And there was only one thing to do.

So, he went to the popcorn room, dressed in the clothes he'd worn the day he arrived, Masuyo in his arms. He set her down on the floor, gently, stroking behind her ears. She mewed up at him, worried.

"It's all right," he murmured. "I won't be gone long. And if I'm not back soon the elves will take you to A or Yukimura and give them the letter I wrote, and they'll take good care of you, a-and I'll always -"

Pop.

Five minutes later, by Hogwarts' standards, Teru reappeared, lying in a pool of butter, his suit now replaced by a grey prison uniform. For a few moments he lay motionless, as Masuyo watched anxiously from under a popcorn case - then sat up abruptly, gasping for air.

Memories flooded back into him. This was - he'd been here so long, years, seen it all before it happened and forgotten, had to live it and forget again...

...but it was over now, he told himself, clutching at butter-drenched hair. All over. Near couldn't have him any more.

beastsouled.livejournal.com

The young woman who walked into the Sorting Room carried a bow and quiver of arrows on her back, but ignored those in favor of a knife with a large garnet set in the hilt. She looked to be about twenty, and very fit. Her curly brown hair was chopped close to her head where it wasn't pulled back into a tail, and her tanned skin was laced with pale scars where her clothing--well-worn leather--didn't cover it. She was barefoot. She crouched as she looked around warily with the knife in her hand, and her dark eyes missed nothing.

The wolf at her side was equally wary-looking. He came up to the woman's chest (no mean thing, for she was not a short woman) and had piercing blue eyes. He growled once, low in his throat. "I do not scent danger, but neither do I scent our destination."

The woman flicked her eyes in the wolf's direction and answered back. Her speech was more akin to an animal's, though, all growls and silence and body language. "Does it smell like Hawk Haven or Bright Bay? This stone room looks similar to their keeps."

"I cannot say. It smells alien, and though you might not wish to hear it, I can feel magic here, stronger than anything I've felt before." Blind Seer--the wolf's name--had been sensitive to such things following an illness months before.

Firekeeper--the woman--frowned. "Could we be in the Old World, then?"

"It is a possibility. I had thought the gateways to be more accurate than that, though."

Firekeeper grunted in displeasure and noticed the a sheet of parchment on a table nearby. She picked it up, wrinkled her nose, and returned it to the table. "I cannot read this. Is it a language you know?"

The wolf gave her a somewhat exasperated look, but placed his front paws on the table and looked down at the parchment, reading. "It appears similar to the writings of Hawk Haven, yes. I will tell you what I can. Perhaps we can learn more about where we have come."

( The world is so very large, and in these years we have seen so little. We go to see more. )

"I have read the

hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG.

I have read the

hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them.

I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch.

One day, marmalade will rule the world.

"

((Since it's heavily hinted that there's at least something of a telepathic component to Beast-speak, if your character is a telepath, feel free to be able to understand them when they're talking in italics. Also if your character is an animal with human-level intellect. Otherwise, it's translated mostly-nonverbal communication.))