Post by Brownie on Jul 19, 2017 20:43:11 GMT -5
[ Welcome ]
This is a little page where I can put up all my short stories from the roleplay The Patchwork People. It's an amazing idea by the amazing astro and I couldn't help but to write plenty of backstory for my characters. Eventually, there'll be more about the other characters as well (and feel free to write your own shorts in this world, gang! I can put them here too) but as of yet the roleplay hasn't even started, so those will come later. If you want more information on any characters or plot, please go ahead and read the main page and character sheets. There's a lot of cool information about this creative dystopsia if you're interested! Unfortunately, the roleplay is closed to joiners. Sorry!
Also please note that not everything here is canon. Some of the events in these shorts follow the plotline, others are created only for drama convenience. Most will be irrelevant backstory ramblings.
But enough of the blabbering, onto the shorts!
-----------------------------
[ The Chase ]
AN: Slightly edited for plot spoilers? But this is my character, Jasmine, who has the power to go invisible. . . sometimes. The power is very much swayed by her emotions. She's on a top secret mission. And of course things go poorly very quickly.
Jasmine crouched behind a broken wall, attempting to hold in her labored breaths. She ground her teeth as she pinched her leg, trying to force herself back into invisibility. Steps echoed through the emptiness. Slowly, methodically. Each growing louder and echoing further as they approached, unhurried. They knew their prey could do nothing to escape. “Come on,” Jasmine muttered. A shadow flickered against the opposite wall and she flinched, reflexes tied tighter than a rubber band in fear. She could practically hear the guard breathing now, but she held her breath as a chill ran down her body, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water from above.
She watched him turn the corner, but she knew she was safe so long as the feeling of ice in her lungs didn’t leave her. With the ice came her power, with the ice she wasn’t just Jasmine, she was a mutant. As long as there was ice, she was invisible.
The first thing she saw from her position crouched on the ground was his hat. A gold cross on a sea of red, the colors of the military. Gold for glory, red for the blood spilt to achieve it. Then came his face. She would have thought him handsome, if his black-and-gold uniform wasn’t already splattered with long-dry blood, if his blue eyes weren’t already dead, if his expression wasn’t that of arrogant joy from the hunt and the kill.
Jasmine didn’t so much as move, even through her invisibility. The odds were low that he’d unwittingly touch her when he turned. He wouldn’t want to touch the cold, cold bricks with their sharp edges and slimy bottoms, and Jasmine was pressed so tightly against them that she could feel all this and more. He walked forward, passing just inches from her face as she held her breath, motionless. And then she twisted away, using the echo of his heavy, metal-rimmed boots to mask the sound of her own footfalls as she scampered away.
She gulped in breaths as she moved at a jog, every so often casting a glance over her shoulder to assure herself the guard did not feel the breeze as she passed or the heat of her body as she stood beside him, close as lovers. She kept to the side of the walk, letting the shadows from the buildings mask her passage, even when the ice in her chest told her she was still invisible. She wasn’t going to risk moving in the middle of the road again. Jasmine hadn’t expected her invisibility to drop as she was traipsing down the center of the road, something that normally would have spelt out her death. But as she became more confident in her invisibility, as the fear of being caught left, the ice in her chest thawed and there she was, standing in the middle of the road for anyone to see.
It was pure luck that a guard chose that moment to turn the corner, and she was anything but invisible standing there, frozen as a rabbit, with no cover for steps in any direction. Just as bad of luck as it was to have the guard choose that moment to see her, it was a miracle she was able to dodge that many bullets until she dashed into the alleyway and her only chance of cover-- and survival.
Jasmine looked over her shoulder again, cursing her arrogance. She knew better, she’d been taught better, raised better. And with the information she was carrying, being caught out on the streets was not an option. She hugged the envelope to her chest tighter. Inside was a good deal of information on the mutants, the so-called “Project Patchwork”. It described the mutant’s powers, their profiles, their plans.
She pushed a faster pace, feeling the urgency of the task lending wings to her feet as she dashed from alleyway to alleyway, from shadow to shadow. She may have been invisible, but the encounter taught her caution and she moved as she would have moved before, without the aid of her power.
The Surge headquarters were underground, as any cliche secret rebellion lair would be. Located at the very edge of the city, it provided enough distance from the hexagon that the rebellion was difficult to ambush without plenty of prior warning. Already several tips had lead to mass evacuations of the upper three floors, all of which could be sealed off in a way that suggested collapse due to bombing and disuse, rather than the months worth of work, research and technology that made the rubble piles seem so believable.
Jasmine had been part of the Surge officially for two years, but had done work for them through another pocket organization created by her parents and their friends since she could read and write. Surge hardly could know that most of the paperwork detailing the outside conditions of the world was done by a group of eight-year olds. She had grown up with the fires of rebellion burning in her heart.
She touched her chest, wondering what the shard of ice would do with that fire. Would it melt and quench them? Or would it serve as fuel to allow the flames to grow hotter? Jasmine didn’t know, but she did know that the folder clenched tightly in her hand would be the one thing that could set the entire rebellion alight.
She ran forward, back towards the Surge and her family. To fan the flames of this fire with the ice in her heart.
-----------------------------
[ The Mission ]
Here goes WORDS
This is a little page where I can put up all my short stories from the roleplay The Patchwork People. It's an amazing idea by the amazing astro and I couldn't help but to write plenty of backstory for my characters. Eventually, there'll be more about the other characters as well (and feel free to write your own shorts in this world, gang! I can put them here too) but as of yet the roleplay hasn't even started, so those will come later. If you want more information on any characters or plot, please go ahead and read the main page and character sheets. There's a lot of cool information about this creative dystopsia if you're interested! Unfortunately, the roleplay is closed to joiners. Sorry!
Also please note that not everything here is canon. Some of the events in these shorts follow the plotline, others are created only for drama convenience. Most will be irrelevant backstory ramblings.
But enough of the blabbering, onto the shorts!
-----------------------------
[ The Chase ]
AN: Slightly edited for plot spoilers? But this is my character, Jasmine, who has the power to go invisible. . . sometimes. The power is very much swayed by her emotions. She's on a top secret mission. And of course things go poorly very quickly.
Jasmine crouched behind a broken wall, attempting to hold in her labored breaths. She ground her teeth as she pinched her leg, trying to force herself back into invisibility. Steps echoed through the emptiness. Slowly, methodically. Each growing louder and echoing further as they approached, unhurried. They knew their prey could do nothing to escape. “Come on,” Jasmine muttered. A shadow flickered against the opposite wall and she flinched, reflexes tied tighter than a rubber band in fear. She could practically hear the guard breathing now, but she held her breath as a chill ran down her body, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water from above.
She watched him turn the corner, but she knew she was safe so long as the feeling of ice in her lungs didn’t leave her. With the ice came her power, with the ice she wasn’t just Jasmine, she was a mutant. As long as there was ice, she was invisible.
The first thing she saw from her position crouched on the ground was his hat. A gold cross on a sea of red, the colors of the military. Gold for glory, red for the blood spilt to achieve it. Then came his face. She would have thought him handsome, if his black-and-gold uniform wasn’t already splattered with long-dry blood, if his blue eyes weren’t already dead, if his expression wasn’t that of arrogant joy from the hunt and the kill.
Jasmine didn’t so much as move, even through her invisibility. The odds were low that he’d unwittingly touch her when he turned. He wouldn’t want to touch the cold, cold bricks with their sharp edges and slimy bottoms, and Jasmine was pressed so tightly against them that she could feel all this and more. He walked forward, passing just inches from her face as she held her breath, motionless. And then she twisted away, using the echo of his heavy, metal-rimmed boots to mask the sound of her own footfalls as she scampered away.
She gulped in breaths as she moved at a jog, every so often casting a glance over her shoulder to assure herself the guard did not feel the breeze as she passed or the heat of her body as she stood beside him, close as lovers. She kept to the side of the walk, letting the shadows from the buildings mask her passage, even when the ice in her chest told her she was still invisible. She wasn’t going to risk moving in the middle of the road again. Jasmine hadn’t expected her invisibility to drop as she was traipsing down the center of the road, something that normally would have spelt out her death. But as she became more confident in her invisibility, as the fear of being caught left, the ice in her chest thawed and there she was, standing in the middle of the road for anyone to see.
It was pure luck that a guard chose that moment to turn the corner, and she was anything but invisible standing there, frozen as a rabbit, with no cover for steps in any direction. Just as bad of luck as it was to have the guard choose that moment to see her, it was a miracle she was able to dodge that many bullets until she dashed into the alleyway and her only chance of cover-- and survival.
Jasmine looked over her shoulder again, cursing her arrogance. She knew better, she’d been taught better, raised better. And with the information she was carrying, being caught out on the streets was not an option. She hugged the envelope to her chest tighter. Inside was a good deal of information on the mutants, the so-called “Project Patchwork”. It described the mutant’s powers, their profiles, their plans.
She pushed a faster pace, feeling the urgency of the task lending wings to her feet as she dashed from alleyway to alleyway, from shadow to shadow. She may have been invisible, but the encounter taught her caution and she moved as she would have moved before, without the aid of her power.
The Surge headquarters were underground, as any cliche secret rebellion lair would be. Located at the very edge of the city, it provided enough distance from the hexagon that the rebellion was difficult to ambush without plenty of prior warning. Already several tips had lead to mass evacuations of the upper three floors, all of which could be sealed off in a way that suggested collapse due to bombing and disuse, rather than the months worth of work, research and technology that made the rubble piles seem so believable.
Jasmine had been part of the Surge officially for two years, but had done work for them through another pocket organization created by her parents and their friends since she could read and write. Surge hardly could know that most of the paperwork detailing the outside conditions of the world was done by a group of eight-year olds. She had grown up with the fires of rebellion burning in her heart.
She touched her chest, wondering what the shard of ice would do with that fire. Would it melt and quench them? Or would it serve as fuel to allow the flames to grow hotter? Jasmine didn’t know, but she did know that the folder clenched tightly in her hand would be the one thing that could set the entire rebellion alight.
She ran forward, back towards the Surge and her family. To fan the flames of this fire with the ice in her heart.
-----------------------------
[ The Mission ]
Here goes WORDS
