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Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.
- Thread starter Arkadious
- Start date
Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
"Have you lost your mind, Fitzgerald?" Genevieve said, eyes wide. "They know we're here."
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
"I do have to wonder how they found us so quickly," Lisbeth pointed out.
Her eyes flicked to Fitz, but only for a moment. He had, after all, led them there. She sighed.
"We can worry about that later," she said, "I don't care where we go, as long as it's away from here."
Her eyes flicked to Fitz, but only for a moment. He had, after all, led them there. She sighed.
"We can worry about that later," she said, "I don't care where we go, as long as it's away from here."
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
"If nobody cares where we go," the Artist set to work again, this time drawing directly onto a wall. What emerged from her lines was a simple door, four paneled with a black door knocker in the shape of a lion's head. A plaque under the knocker read '22B'. The only thing missing was a doorknob, instead of which was a small round hole about the size of a dime. "How about wherever this goes?"
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
"Oh, I was wondering what went wrong." With the correct address, the door finally solidified, easing out of the wall fluidly. She stuck her pen into the hole where the doorknob should be, "Now, this isn't really a door to a time or place, just an Idea, so we can't stay for long. And try not to touch anything, Ideas are very volatile, and you never know whose Idea you're mucking around in. With any luck, the residents will be out and it will throw the Knights off our trail." She turned the 'knob' and the door swung open with a 'click'.
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As we step inside 221 b we notice a stair case going up...<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3291.jpg.8c09de6e4e2371f551faeb9e5f55eb73.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89360" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3291.jpg.8c09de6e4e2371f551faeb9e5f55eb73.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
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Fitz stops for a moment to examine the stain glass window at the top of the landing..<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3292.jpg.8a6a7f8a3a1a2c0e3840ed7a46116f5d.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89361" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3292.jpg.8a6a7f8a3a1a2c0e3840ed7a46116f5d.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
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Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
Lisbeth brought up the rear and closed the door behind her. The house was quiet, save her own footsteps and those of her companions.
"Will the door on the other side disappear?" she asked Blott, her voice only just above a whisper, "Or could the werewolves follow us in here? This is a lovely home, and I'd hate to see it get wrecked."
"Will the door on the other side disappear?" she asked Blott, her voice only just above a whisper, "Or could the werewolves follow us in here? This is a lovely home, and I'd hate to see it get wrecked."
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
"No, we should be safe. The door on the other side is just a way in, but once you take out the key, that door quits being a door." She raised her eyebrows and tucked her pen away. "The 'real' door to this place has a proper knob and handle and has color to it. The door I made was more of just...the idea of the door. Concept art." She snickered at her own bad joke, "Gets the Idea across, but isn't actually supposed to be used."
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
"Naruhodo," Lisbeth replied automatically with a nod, then she caught herself, "Er, I mean, I see."
She followed Fitz up the stairs, still carrying the silver sword in front of her. She wasn't sure how much longer the swords would last, but they were smaller than the table and chairs in the Sitting Room had been, so probably a bit longer. She'd found that the smaller an object was, the longer it would usually last. Usually.
"So, I wonder where we are now," she whispered.
She followed Fitz up the stairs, still carrying the silver sword in front of her. She wasn't sure how much longer the swords would last, but they were smaller than the table and chairs in the Sitting Room had been, so probably a bit longer. She'd found that the smaller an object was, the longer it would usually last. Usually.
"So, I wonder where we are now," she whispered.
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we see this at the top of the stairs<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3181.jpg.6348b0851fd7c03fc6255fa225bb7ccc.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89365" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3181.jpg.6348b0851fd7c03fc6255fa225bb7ccc.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
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Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
"So... are we gonna, like, see if we can lay low here for a while, or see if there's anything useful we can take and then leave?" Lisbeth asked.
Noticing something on the wall in one of the rooms, she added, "We may want to be careful here: there are bullet holes in the wall."
Noticing something on the wall in one of the rooms, she added, "We may want to be careful here: there are bullet holes in the wall."
Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
"We should lay low," Genevieve said. "We can't keep going like this forever, and with Blott's door closed this seems as safe as anywhere else."
huh.... "She's right!In the larger room!"<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3157.jpg.e208e06425f74849aa25c37d254b4735.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89366" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3157.jpg.e208e06425f74849aa25c37d254b4735.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
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Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
"VR... What the heck does that mean?" Lizbeth said, puzzling over the pattern of the bullet holes. It didn't seem that anyone was home at the moment, so she leaned the silver sword against the wall for the time being and took a seat in a chair, lying her pack on the floor beside her. She was getting better at managing her short swords when she sat, at least.
"Are we still in 1940 London?" she asked, "Or did we go somewhere else?"
"Are we still in 1940 London?" she asked, "Or did we go somewhere else?"
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"Not sure"<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3159.jpg.5f937cdd6788a9567c0966d90ab64dc5.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89369" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3159.jpg.5f937cdd6788a9567c0966d90ab64dc5.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
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Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
Genevieve held up the hounds-tooth deerstalker that was lying on a small table, turning it this way and that.
"No, not 1940s London..."
She tossed the hat aside, yawned and sunk down onto the sofa.
"Right now, I'm not terribly concerned about where it is out there," she nodded toward the window. "In here it's warm and comfortable and, at least by our standards, safe. Why don't we get some rest? We can take shifts."
"No, not 1940s London..."
She tossed the hat aside, yawned and sunk down onto the sofa.
"Right now, I'm not terribly concerned about where it is out there," she nodded toward the window. "In here it's warm and comfortable and, at least by our standards, safe. Why don't we get some rest? We can take shifts."
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ArtBlott
Just the Worst
Blott lifted her hat to free the crow, who happily flew a circuit of the room before settling on the back of a chair. "We are in a collective agreement of a place. Like a Writers world, only belonging to no one," she looked to Lisbeth for a little help, "Enough people decided this place was...so it Was. or Is."
She sat down on the floor. She had 'spoken' more in the past 24 hours than she had in the past 4 years. It was exhausting. Still, she persevered, "A normal person's Idea is not strong enough to become anything. But enough normal people coming to a consensus? That sometimes does it. And this place is old, a buildup of thousands of Ideas. It's sturdy enough to hold us for a while." She leaned back against a wall. "I've never tried to go into one before. Never made a door to anywhere either. Good to know it worked." Her voice, or the crows, trailed off. She couldn't sleep, but now, more than ever, she so desperately wanted to.
She sat down on the floor. She had 'spoken' more in the past 24 hours than she had in the past 4 years. It was exhausting. Still, she persevered, "A normal person's Idea is not strong enough to become anything. But enough normal people coming to a consensus? That sometimes does it. And this place is old, a buildup of thousands of Ideas. It's sturdy enough to hold us for a while." She leaned back against a wall. "I've never tried to go into one before. Never made a door to anywhere either. Good to know it worked." Her voice, or the crows, trailed off. She couldn't sleep, but now, more than ever, she so desperately wanted to.
Fitz takes another look around......there still a few more rooms up there!<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3182.jpg.63ec95cf6494e677812392dae36bac00.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89370" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3182.jpg.63ec95cf6494e677812392dae36bac00.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
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Fitz looks over to his right and notices a violin and proceeds to play a bit...<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3319.jpg.c47187cba4bd3e88e0b7dbc5dce7e60c.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89372" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/IMG_3319.jpg.c47187cba4bd3e88e0b7dbc5dce7e60c.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
