Ookla the Maybe-Existent

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  1. Rob quietened, followed her look to her hands. There was no answer. Because all of it was true. Another reason Rob disliked the moniker ‘magic’ to describe what they had. Magic was for fantasy. And in fantasy, things were simple. Good and bad. A dark lord to defeat. Things weren’t... messy, filled with conflicts of moral. This was real life. He placed a hand on Shana’s shoulder. “It will never feel right. But we’re only human.”
  2. “I’ll meet whoever asks,” I reply, watch all of the little expressions, small precise movements Raphael makes. The way he draws out the words slightly, the small smile and the whole demeanour he’s been giving off since I stepped into this pub. He’s got a skill in his movements, I’ll give him that. Almost annoyingly perfect in the little actions. But, he’s a clean freak. I store the fact in my head for later. In a world like this, the line between friend and foe is as thin as a garrotte wire. I take another sip. “And whoever has the money. I’m a Private Investigator.” I nod my head and sit back a little bit, try to judge his reaction. If he already knew now would be the time to hire my services. Of he didn’t — well, no harm in getting the word around. And besides, he told me his job, it’s only curtesy to tell mine. As information. And as warning. Should the right customer pay — I can find information on anyone. For a price. Sometimes it’s money. Sometimes it’s a Breath.
  3. “We’re from a charity not-for-profit,” Alask added, stepping from behind Lena. He smiled politely at the woman, didn’t say more. Too much could annoy her and then they really wouldn’t have any leads.
  4. “It is,” Rob assured her, taking another look at the marble - and whatever swirled beneath its glassy surface - before stuffing it back in his pocket. Following Shana he stepped inside the car, looked out of the window at their large house. Doc must have been a rich man to afford it. “I remember the police officers. But with that violet stone gone, they returned to normal, right? I wonder if there’s something like that for each Voidbringer. Their own violet stone that will return them to normal.” He shrugged. “But for now... we do what we have to. Remember, they don’t just harm themselves, they harm others too. Not only is it mercy, it’s preventing innocent lives being lost.”
  5. “Well, as long as it’s the offical way,” I say, though the idea for a city to be built still irks me. So much would change in this town, entire ecosystems of criminals and bystanders, the delicate balance of crime against the law, ethics against chaos would be undermined, removed, all for a few higher walls. Everything hangs in balance, like a perfect pendulum. There’s no need to knock it down now. “I can easily see such a project becoming a target for others with malicious intent.” Holding the whiskey in my hand I take a careful sip, meeting Raphael’s eyes. “Though, I suppose, as a doctor, it wouldn’t be too bad. The more people injured, the more money for you, isn’t it?”
  6. “We could destroy the crystals, right?” Wes asked. “That could leave whatever atium’s here to remain, but would make sure no more gets produced?”
  7. Taking the cigarette out I exhale a circle of smoke, watching it haze through the air like a bad rumour on a dark Friday night. Watching I put it away, look towards the drink he’s pushed towards me. The last time someone bought me a drink I ended up passed out on the floor of some slaughterhouse, but that was before I Returned. Now, the Instincts are still there though they have no reason to be. “It’s alright,” I say, wonder about the doctor’s offer to buy another drink, just in case I don’t like this one. So casual, I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or if he can’t tell. From my experience in the dark streets of my Alley there’s a few types of rich. There’s lottery-rich, those gangsters with the flash of gold and partying til the spark runs out and they end up in serious debt to the wrong guys in no time flat. There’s the paranoid rich — that’s all your cutthroat businessmen, politicians, most mob leadership and anyone else who’s got to be careful with their coins. And then you have the old rich. The powerful rich. The rich that asks about buying you another drink like it’s nothing. They’re rare to find, but when you find one, you know it. The old rich is like radiation, it just invisibly seeps in every movement, from the way he poses to the way he holds his glass, showing off his body. Bringing the whiskey to my lips I take a large sip and leave it half empty against the bar top. I think I’ve figured out Raphael. A riddle of a man, he is. Even if I know he isn’t a gangster I’ll be following him anyway. He’s easily the most interesting figure I’ve met since my time in Sanctuary. “I don’t see the need for a city,” I say. “As far as I’ve heard, the universe has functioned perfect without any such stronghold of power, no? It seems like wasted resources to try and construct one, then. But then, I’ve only been here a short while. What do I know of politics? I usually leave that to the politicians.”
  8. Are you trying to connect the CBST and Alleyverse universes? Because I think that might need community approval.
  9. “Oh. No, I didn’t,” Rob said, taking it out of his pocket as he followed her out of the door. “I wanted to show it to Doc or James. Maybe after school? It seems so different from the other marbles, you know. Sometimes I think I can see something moving inside it. I didn’t want to destroy it before we know what it is. You never know, if we’ve never seen it before it could help us find a cure.” A cure to what, Shana already knew. How great would the day be, the day they could cure a bunch of Voidbringers instead of killing them? It would be nothing short of historical.
  10. “Yes,” Marcel said, casually carving into the bone. It was a simple enough seal, and while he wasn’t as good as his sister, he had enough experience to have a conversation while working on it. Once you got the idea for the seal in your head, the rest was just simply writing it down on the seal. “It’s rare, though. Very few want to learn what they see as ‘blood magic’.” He hesitated. “Well, it is blood magic, technically, but for many that means it is evil, and that is untrue. Bloodsealing, like any magic, is neither good nor bad. It all depends on the user, much in the same way Feruchemy is neither good nor bad.” He smiled and looked to Wita. “But yes, anyone can learn, if they’re willing and have enough patience.”
  11. “Not if we want us to remain secret,” Rob said, kneeled down and slipped on his own shoes. Simple, white in colour, not any of the branded things everyone at school. Rob’s policy with shoes was the same as his policy with cars. If it got him from A to B without breaking down, it was perfect. “But, maybe small Radiant pupils? I’m sure when we grow up more kids like us will come. Maybe they can be taught about us. It would be nice. And I admit I would be curious what they would be taught.”
  12. non-canon

    Looking to the knife Wes rolled over and scooped it off the dirt. Continuing his roll Wes brought his knife high in the air for a sharp arc towards Deteca.
  13. first verse

    “Don’t flatter yourself,” Price said, looking pointedly down at his ledger, looking up, then down again as he wrote more, tried to get the logic out of his head. He was beginning to see the implications of what infinite sense-control could offer. And with these gods, it really did seem infinite. But, it’s not. Their power fluctuates. They said so themselves. But why? “There’s a limit to what you can, and can’t do. You can touch me, make me feel pain from an attack that isn’t there, but you said it yourself: the only damage will be that which is done by my reaction.” He stood up from his chair. “If you ‘punch’ me, and make me feel like I was actually punched, I wouldn’t fly backwards. I would feel pain, but you can’t create energy out of nothing. Same way that if you kicked me in the ribs, I wouldn’t break a single bone. Because there’s only feeling there. No actual impact. My body won’t break its own ribs even if it thinks they’re getting broken. Very painful, yes. But not as dangerous as it first sounds.” Looking back down Price paused when he saw he’d written something else down Sensation had said. He said he could read emotions? But that’s not something regular people with the Instincts can do. But, the Instincts are just supposed to be smaller versions of the gods’ powers themselves.
  14. “You can buy a decent amount of expensive things with just one bead,” Wes said. “That valuable.” To his memory, it used to be because it was incredible as a metal to burn, making a Mistborn unstoppable. As far as he could tell, over time the reason for its value had shifted from being powerful to being rare. And powerful, Wes corrected himself, atium still made a Mistborn unstoppable and was a catch-all as a spike, it was just that it’s value had only increased with its rarity. “We should have the government have it then!” Wes said when he thought of an idea. “They can use it for good stuff, and they aren’t even a private organisation so they won’t use it for evil things. That’s fair, right?” —- You should destroy the crystals, Max replied, remembering old books on warfare. This wasn’t warfare yet, but be careless and it soon could evolve in that direction. And war was definitely something Max didn’t want. If they keep generating atium, it will be a constant source for conflict. Destroy the crystals, so then only the atium currently produced is around. Then... Max paused, tried to think. A squadron of Canton operatives would surely be a sign of something aggressive. Maybe even pushing it too far. If he was going to need someone down there, it would have to be a small group, nothing too threatening. I’ll be there, he said. Make sure nobody starts a war in that time, please? Love you, Max.
  15. “A doctor.” I repeat. It all sort of makes sense. A doctor. But I know the world, I know it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, more like smoke and ash clouds, but still, a doctor. An evil experimenter, perhaps? Or a fraud? But I know he can’t be what he’s expecting me to think: a normal, happy-go-lucky who heals people out of the goodness of their heart. From the alley I come from, no one survives a day without getting red on their ledger. This world can’t be so different. “My observation must be getting rusty,” I say. Unless doctor is a codeword? I haven’t been here long enough to acclimatise to this town’s criminal slang. Like all criminal slang, it changes from region to region. One man’s insult is another man’s compliment, depending on the word, tone, location and a bunch of other things. But the thoughts of who exactly Raphael is, underneath that cleanliness mask he projects onto the world are derailed by another train of thought, one that slowly more and more momentum in my head. Raphael may have been here a short amount of time, but he still knows things about this place I don’t. Which, while unfortunately puts him at an advantage, means its easier to get him to talk. “They plan to build a city here?” I ask. It doesn’t make sense. And it wouldn’t be good. Why change this place when it already seems to be doing a fine job of housing the locals. “Why?”