Bergamot Gristleborg
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Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jul 25, 2024 11:42:18 GMT 9
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Bergamot Gristleborg
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Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jul 25, 2024 10:56:17 GMT 9
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jun 5, 2024 18:52:51 GMT 9
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jun 4, 2024 21:47:07 GMT 9
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Bergamot Gristleborg
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Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Feb 8, 2024 17:22:12 GMT 9
"One second," said Morgana, planted in front of the sea of Caution Tape and orange traffic cones. She was scrolling through the inventory. "I'm sure I have a second-stage Pokemon somewhere. Surely." Surely. Surely her habit of running Piplup and Mudkip would not come around to bite her. Surely her own hubris would not rear its head now, when she'd only just arrived to the knockoff Tree of Worms.
It turned out she had nothing to worry about. "Gyarados!" she uttered, tossing her hair in relief, and sent out the giant purple worm. It undulated over the construction barrier, causing the Pidgey in construction hats to squawk in dismay and wing after it. "Rainbow, use... well, I suppose you don't have to do anything, really."
<Seriously?> roared the serpent, coiling its massive body to avoid pecking beaks and jabbing talons. <Why am I here?>
"Moral support? Or as a distraction, I suppose. Look!" There was a helpful ping as the UI showed a new Tower Prompt. "Keep doing what you're doing!"
<This is a work zone!> yelled one of the Pidgey, shoving a clipboard with work orders in Rainbow's face. The Gyarados swam forward, cramming the entire Pidgey into its cavernous mouth, and shot out the other side of the tree to deposit it as far away from the floor as possible.
NEXT PROMPT (39): [Tower] 5jZR5tVU1-501-50
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Feb 8, 2024 4:50:16 GMT 9
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 23, 2024 18:39:08 GMT 9
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/bc/54/76/bc5476397962cdbabfcf1bb7acc06e47~jpg
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 23, 2024 13:41:46 GMT 9
#s://file~garden/ZaK6ZBFYS2j2rOD5/Characters/chryssa-morgana~png She is surrounded, the shiiing! of steel and scales ringing in her ears until it resonates. Tones, aligning. Testing. Tuning.
Turning.
Morgana becomes aware of it as her perception opens like human jaws, human lips poised to scream, human eyes stretched wide. The sphere becomes fluid as mercury, its denizens moving so quickly that each form, each fin, blends seamlessly into one another. For a moment, Bergamot herself can not be sure whether she is not the one accelerating, transcending human limits towards an exponential state of being.
For a moment she is weightless, limitless, floating in a sea of sensory deprivation.
Calm down.
It's the sword again. It's in her hand, still sheathed, its eye still closed. We're in no danger here.
"That's right," said Morgana, recovering, "This is just a game, isn't it? I don't have to be afraid."
<The sword is silent.>
She touched down onto a path of iron dust as light broke through the illusion. She realized she was no longer underwater—air filled her lungs, though it had the same, uncanny sense of not-quite-realness. Like breathing oxygen through a mask.
Morgana, too, was not-quite-real. Or perhaps it was better to say Chryssa, here, was not-quite-Chryssa. She looked down to see Morgana's dress, Bergamot's gloves, Bergamot's high-heeled running shoes. Yet she knew, without reflection, without doubt, that she was in her own body.
The pain told her that.
She stumbled, as if the weight of knowing might snap her legs like chicken bones, and caught herself on the sword, breathing hard. Her eyes darted back and forth as her knees trembled, all of her weight resting on the leather scabbard like a strangely-shaped crutch. A cane. A spike, a lifeline, a third, essential limb that had always been part of herself, yet still belonged to someone else.
Keep going. It's just ahead.
Inch by painful inch, dragging herself like a rock climber up a vertical surface, she moves forward.
The twin serpents rise to meet her, living timelines, vast with possibilities. No—with histories.
In the red-tinted images she sees a Chryssa who walks on her own two legs, a Chryssa untethered. She sees a Chryssa who is free to do as she pleases, anywhere in the world. A Chryssa who networks, who performs, who triumphs. A Chryssa who could beat death, and God, and become something more.
"This is not my world."
Her eyes are gray as ghosts.
But it was once mine, murmurs the sword. We are the same. Our spirits, bound to steel.
In the flash of the mirror-bright blade, Chryssa sees the chair. Not just one. The foldable transit one in the back of the ambulance, its stainless steel rims tarnished by wear and tear. The electric one for old people at the grocery store, with its never-fully-charged battery and glittering shopping basket. The ultra-lightweight model for use around the house, decorated with keychains and software stickers.
"That's not my world either," Chryssa says, turning away. "Not because I can't walk. Because it has no meaning."
A world that rang false, another world that rang hollow.
"I choose my reality for myself."
She kicks off her heels and hobbles into the blue serpent's mouth, stumbling, breath hitching from the pain that numbs her joints like tongues of lightning.
"Here, I am unbound," Bergamot says. Her face is reflected from a thousand points, kaleidoscopic, as she picks up pace. Her legs strengthen, her bare feet stabilize. The pain fades as she leaves it behind, leaves fate behind, rejects the cruelty of the flesh in favor of swords and scents and Starcatches. "My mind wanders free. Isn't that enough?"
Muir whispers, Then free me too.
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 23, 2024 11:58:41 GMT 9
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/bc/54/76/bc5476397962cdbabfcf1bb7acc06e47~jpg
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 23, 2024 11:42:36 GMT 9
#s://i~pinimg~com/736x/bc/54/76/bc5476397962cdbabfcf1bb7acc06e47~jpg
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 23, 2024 0:18:46 GMT 9
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 22, 2024 20:32:44 GMT 9
CURRENT BYTES: 10,847 DATE OF CHARACTER APP: Dec 21, 2021 CLAIMING TYPE MOD: Secondary, EQUIP TO?: Salandit
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 22, 2024 20:27:54 GMT 9
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 16, 2024 20:58:53 GMT 9
"The key to finding an adequate ball," said Morgana, "is to actually use a key."She flashed her sparkly silver claws, which were actually the keys of a living Klefki. The Pokemon seemed to be asleep, letting out only a soft <Uwuwu~> as it breathed in and out through its tiny black mouth. Bergamot jangled it at the legendary wolves as she pushed her way through the iron-wrought gate, entering the so-called Park of Dogs. Ironically, there were no dogs to be found, and posted signage to enforce that fact. Instead, the park was filled with spiders."Oho, what tangled webs we weave!" Bergamot reflected nonsensically, spinning around. It was obvious one of these silken yarnballs was the next ball on the menu for their lupine friends, so she tapped the Klefki on the head to wake it up. "Awaken! I need your help."<Hmm~ What is it,> yawned Wolverine. <I'm nocturnal, you know.>"Draining Kiss!" ordered Morgana, who might as well have not been able to understand PokeSpeech for all the heed she paid it. <Kay~> said the Klefki, and opened its mouth wide, wide, wider. Like the keyhole in Alice in Wonderland, the poppyseed-sized speck became an almond, then a pendant, then an entire inner tube. The vortex of dark energy swirled, draining away the vitality of a nearby Tarountula until the Pokemon fell unconscious from the shock. Bergamot picked it up by its thread, dangling it at arm's length. "Ohoho! Perfect, Wolverine. Back to the dogs!" She hiked up her skirts and sprinted back towards the gate where Zacian and Zamazenta were waiting, her high-heeled shoes kicking up clods of mud and grass behind her. NEXT PROMPT (28): [Tower]emb5QX3M1-50 1-50
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Bergamot Gristleborg
•
Muddy Girl
Mythstar
Posts: 391
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Chryssa Glasgow
OOC Username: M00K
Arena Points: 37
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Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Jan 14, 2024 19:36:42 GMT 9
#s://file~garden/ZaK6ZBFYS2j2rOD5/Characters/chryssa-morgana~png "At the hour when we areYou have the rod, now comes the detour. Trembling with tendernessWhat are you waiting for? Lips that would kissA sign? A summons? A prompt to move ahead? Form prayers to broken stone." She dove, though she had never learned to swim in the real world, cupped hands opening the frigid veil of sea like endless curtains.
A speck of something gold shone in the deep. A memory. Metallic. Buried not at the bottom of the bay, but somewhere in her brain. Something forged.
Something forgotten.
An expanse of endless doors rose up to meet her, stacked one on top of the other like circuit board switches. On or off. Open or closed. Black, or white, or red, or–
There. An empty slot. An iron arch, to a blank iron wall, carved with words from a long-forgotten dream.
W H A T H A S T H R E E L O C K S , A N D N O K E Y ? “What is happening,” whispered Morgana, voice lost to trailing bubbles. She made as if to lay a hand against the metal and stopped, as if it might burn her.
Her mind was working.
I’ve been here before.
Of course she had. No programmer had coded this here, no game designer had lucked into something so personal. The WorldScreen could not implant false memories, it could only reflect.
A reflection…
“A human face,” she said slowly, as if pulling the words through tar. Black sand, composed of iron filings, collected on her skin as she spoke, drawn in swirls and trickles through the water. “Locking eyes. Locking jaws. Locking lips.”
It’s been two years, something blue-eyed and baleful whispered in her mind, and Morgana realized it was the sword. Are you ready to come back?
She does not answer. She is not sure that she is.
Swimmer and Steeler. Magnetic. Brown hair grows coppery-bright as her powers hone, focus, draw her towards the Fourth Door like a needle to a lodestone.
She floats forward, iron filings swirling on her skin, and presses her face into the arch as if her own visage is the forbidden key to clear the way, and it is, and it always was. Black sand crawls away from her steel-cured skin, clinging in ragged spikes, forming a faint, scatter imprint on the door where her body used to be.
Something glitters. Something gold.
Bergamot Gristleborg is gone.
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