capeandcowl | Entries tagged with scathach

[the video flicks on to show scathach dressed in black from head to toe. there's a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and she isn't looking at the comm when she first begins to speak; she's looking off to the side.]

I'm afraid I won't be able to greet my new students on their first day of class. I'll be leaving for... personal business for a week or so, and I won't be reachable.

[she finally looks at the camera. she looks especially young and rejuvenated today; it's easy for anyone who knows her to see that she's fed recently. she smiles, but it doesn't reach her green eyes.]

I hope that this school year will be fruitful for all at the Institute, staff and students alike.

[she pauses here, not sure what else to say. this last bit is said a bit awkwardly.]

Take care. Especially you, Josh. You're in charge.

[and she abruptly shuts off the camera.]

symmachy

[The video clicks on and surprise, it’s not Scatty’s face you’re seeing first, it’s the Joker. He actually looks almost flustered, with a few hairs are out of place. Scatty is there, in the background, her arms all chained up, hanging from the ceiling of the same house of mirrors he posted from earlier. She doesn’t look so good; there are bruises all over her arms and neck, and her usually white tank top is stained with blood.]

Come on, is this the best you got? Hahahaha. Any more expendable little redhead girls you got waiting in the wings? I gotta admit, she did good up until the boss battle. Didn’t you, princess?

[He turns to nudge her with a miniature baseball bat. A very beaten Scatty turns her head and spits on his face. In retaliation, he beats her until her face is too bloody and swollen to spit anymore. She doesn’t make a sound, even though it has to hurt like hell. The Joker turns back to the camera, swinging the bloody bat around like a cane.]

Well, now I have to change bases. I hate that. Boy is it inconvenient. Sooooo if you know this bitch whose communicator I’m posting from. Maaaaybe you want to see if you can find her. I hear bleeding out is a hell of a way to go.

[And with one more maniacal laugh, the recording cuts.]

[ooc; this happened because of this post. scatty has been feeling down and out lately, and decided maybe she could take it out on the joker. obviously, she could not.]

symmachy

[video flicks on. scatty is sitting on the floor of her dojo, windows closed, all the lights turned off. the only thing lighting up her face is the camera; it's kind of eerie looking. maybe she's trying to hide something durr. anyway, she looks very contemplative, and there are dark circles beneath her eyes.]

Lughnasa is in a few days. Halfway between the Solstice and the Equinox. Winter is coming already.

At times I wonder how many people remember where their celebrations came from. Lughnasa, Christmas, Yom Kippur. They all have their origins, and those are important, I feel. Lughnasa came about when Lugh ordered to have a feast and games held in honor of his foster mother, Tailtiu. She gave her life to the earth of Ireland so that the people there might cultivate it and live.

[her eyes flit away from the camera for a moment before returning to it. her pupils are contracted to little slits.]

It is strange just how many celebrations come about because of someone's death. Perhaps they were a real being, or perhaps they were imagined by the people to aid them in their existence. Either way, the event of death is certainly a powerful thing.

[she pauses and laughs to herself, head tilted back just enough for her pointed teeth to glint faintly in the light.]

I feel as if I should stop meditating for so long. It gives me too much time to think, and I almost never like what I come up with.

[and she switches off the recording.]

symmachy

[scatty is looking... actually, very mildly distressed. but trying to hide it. she's standing in her dojo, leaning against the wall. trying to look thoughtful instead. she runs a hand through her cropped red hair.]

What determines if someone is to be considered... old nowadays? Their looks or their actual age?

[pause.]

This is out of curiosity, of course.

symmachy

[filtered from josh newman]

What does one do with a heartbroken, angsting teenage boy?

symmachy

[the video is showing the inside of a coffee shop in arizona. she's wearing some black shorts and a black tank-top, which is a big change from her usual white. some black sunglasses are perched atop her bright red hair. she looks very contemplative, and perhaps a little sad.]

I had not expected that from the government. Though, if the past truly does repeat itself, I suppose I should have.

[stirs the tea in front of her, and takes a slow sip. her skin is exceptionally pale but not in a sickly way; just in a they-blew-up-a-city way. even being this old, it still shook her up.]

Civilizations rise and fall. Civil war is the worst way to go, though it seems as if this one has been quelled rather quickly.

[she makes a face at her tea, mumbles "too much sugar," and sets it aside. looks back to the camera, and some kind of ancient sorrow is visible in her eyes for just a moment.]

And I do not know if it is a good or bad thing.

symmachy

[video flicks on to show scatty, lips pulled back to bare her vampire teeth in a snarl, pupils contracted to mere slits. there are four angled scratches on her forehead that look like they came from a set of nasty claws; all are scabbed over, but one has broken open and a thin trail of blood has begun to drip down her face. her freckles are standing out lividly against her pale skin. her accent is very pronounced. all in all, she looks and sounds pissed.]

Why am I here? Where are the twins? Nicholas? Where is Joan? I will not tolerate—

[she suddenly stops, her face taking on a look of alarm.]

Joan!

[she grabs the comm, and pulls it close to her face, urgent.]

Have any of you seen her? Her name is Joan—Jeanne d’Arc, Joan of Arc, whatever you wish to call her. She has grey eyes and dark hair, a silver aura. She was just married. I just—she was right next to me, with Shakespeare and Palamedes...

[she trails off, and her face takes on a strange expression, as if she has just had the biggest episode of déjà vu ever.]

—Except none of you would know that. No. No, I’ve lost her. She’s gone.

[her face falls a bit. she mutters to herself in latin:]

Francis is going to kill me when I get back.

[ooc; PORTED BACK IN. this would have gone up a little later today but i have school and then some stuff to do, SO HERE YOU GO.]

symmachy

[voice function starts recording to something thumping hard against wood, and then the wood splintering and cracking. scatty's voice is so obviously disgusted, though it's hard to tell; she hasn't fed in a while, and it's pretty monotone still.]

This is why I found solace away from the humani world. Meaningless attacks upon their own race, a terrible waste of life. For all their great advances in technology, they could not see that they are too fragile to be so wasteful, so wretched and thoughtless.

[another thump, and more wood cracking and groaning. she spits on the ground.]

My time had passed, and I left it with the hope that they would recover themselves, would see the wrongness of their actions. But it seems that I was too optimistic. For every naturally good person, there are ten more who are too lost to be as much. I may have been called many things in the past--not all of them so pretty as "the Shadow"--but I never believed in this. There was no strategy, no honor.

[her voice is raw:]

And children, above everything else.

[she punches another tree, and gives a grunt; it's too big for her to knock down. she gives a little hiss, and then her voice drops down to just a murmur.]

So stupid.

[ooc; in reference to this broadcast.]

symmachy

[voice flicks on. she's humming a bit, though there's a slight hissing in the background. also, the repetitive sound of her hands pounding dough as she kneads it.]

Easter is just a few days away. There is much to do before Sunday. Especially the cleaning. That will certainly take a while.

[she pauses for a moment, forming the dough, and then begins speaking again.]

I hold myself to no particular religion, but there are some traditions that do not die so easily.

[there's another pause; the oven door squeaks as she opens it. metal sliding against metal as she slides the pan in, then a few beeps as she sets the time. with a low sigh, she claps her hands together a few times, brushing off flour.]

My dojo will be closed on Sunday, of course. Josh--is there anything in particular you would like to eat tomorrow or on Easter?

symmachy

[voice function begins recording. she sounds relaxed, content almost. and is it just you, or is her accent a bit more profound than before? nope, it isn't just you.]

Thank you for the vacation, Scott. It was definitely nice to be... home. Perhaps not the one I am used to, but seeing the Isle again was nice. It wasn't quite as I remember it, but I suppose that was to be expected. Alex and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves--and the next time we can vacation, perhaps we'll go to his home.

[and now she's back to business, and you can practically hear the mischief in her voice.]

Spring break is over next week, yes? I cannot wait to see my students again--I promise all of you, I had time to come up with some new teaching methods while away. I'm sure you will... enjoy them very much. Perhaps I'll relate some of them to the warding-off of zombies.

[under her breath she chuckles, and then the recording cuts.]

cry-andletloose.livejournal.com

[The video flickers on to show the inside of a pub, with pints of beers all around and a generally jovial atmosphere. Almost everyone is wearing green and if you listen you can hear very strong Irish accents all around. Shamrocks are everywhere. Alex and Scathach are in Ireland! For St Paddy's Day!

Alex is dressed in a garish, lime-green tank top with an olive-green shirt worn loosely over. It clashes horribly because Alex has no sense of fashion.]

Scott, you sly old dog. The weather here in Ireland's great, nothing like Alaska at all. The parades are great even if I don't understand the accent half the time.

Wish you guys were here-- I heard there's another zombie outbreak in the City again. Is everyone okay? [He frowns at this; it's clear he's been trying not to worry about it.] Scatty and I can't do anything about it from here, Scott's ordered us on a forced holiday from Tuesday to Friday, but the clinic's still gotta be open and I know there are a couple of healers there. General advice-- some solid roundhouse punches and kicks should daze them long enough for you to get out of there, or get help from someone who can effectively take them down. Has that zombie in the Institute been dealt with yet? And Josh, are you alright?

[Pause, then he mutters under his breath:] Right, right, I'm on holiday. Scott can deal with it back home.

We'll be heading to the Isle of Skye tomorrow by plane-- that's Scatty's island, the myths all have to do with her. She's been chatting up everyone in Irish ever since we got here, and some people actually recognise her. It's nuts. It's like dating Abraham Lincoln or something and visiting Washington.

[Scathach is in the background chatting with some locals in a dialect that is definitely not English, and they're all having an uproariously good time, largely oblivious to Alex's...gawking.]

Right then. We'll be back on Friday. Don't anyone dare die, you hear?

Private to Lorna:
Did you know people here actually dye their hair green just for today? You'd fit right at home here.

Private to Madelyne Pryor:
Hey. The zombies didn't get you, did they?

symmachy

[voice recording starts. there's some music playing quietly in the background--it's metallica. because "master of puppets" happens to be on my ipod at the moment. ANYWAY, I DIGRESS. she sounds slightly amused.]

Music has certainly evolved over the years, much like the earth's creatures. Each decade brought about new interests and, with those interests, came new ideas. Just as with each million or so years, something in each creature changed just a bit, allowing them to adapt and survive. Music acts much the same.

[she pauses, and listens to a few bars of the music. then she sighs lowly, content.]

Tell me, city. What kinds of music do you enjoy? Classical, rock, opera, jazz--I wish to know, and perhaps expand my musical horizons.

[she laughs.]

Personally, I am a fan of the eighties.

[TURNS UP THOSE JAMS YEAH. recording cuts.]

symmachy

[the video flicks on. scatty is sitting in a little cafe of some kind, the lights are a bit dim, there's soft jazz music in the background. she has her hands wrapped around a cup of tea, and is, as always, not dressed for the weather at all. except for a white beanie hat pulled over her scarlet hair. don't ask. she smiles a bit at the camera, but it doesn't quite reach her cat-slit eyes.]

The majority of this week has certainly been... [she pauses, searching for a fitting word.] Interesting. Yes, that would be a good way to say it.

[she sighs a bit, and glances down at her tea. it's still steaming hot.]

It makes one almost disinterested in the idea of travel, if this is how other places are. Personally, I have never seen myself staying in one place for more than a little while, especially after what that person said, but here... [she trails off again, as if she's lost in thought. then she comes back, matter-of-fact.] Even with all of the crazy things that happen, I feel as if I could be quite at-home here.

[she pauses again, and then shakes her head, correcting herself.]

No--I am quite at home here. There is no denying that. How odd.

[another pause. then a question:]

Do... any of you share this feeling as well?

[she takes a sip of her tea, smiles again a bit wryly, and then cuts the recording.]

symmachy

[she sounds very calm, her voice is very controlled.]

My classes will be canceled until Monday. I'm afraid that I'm a bit... indisposed from the other day.

[pause, as if she's going to continue. then, with a low sigh, she just turns the comm off.]

symmachy

[It looks as if they’re downtown. Scathach is holding the camera up, centering her face, but Alex is visible in the background with his back to the comm. He’s slowly approaching one of the spindles. Scathach looks a bit confused as she speaks.]

These are... odd. I have never experienced anything quite like this, and I’ve been around for a while.

[Alex glances back towards the comm for a second, and then keeps moving towards the spindle, slowly clenching his fist and radiating some of his plasma energy as a precaution. She isn’t really watching what he’s doing, more focused on the camera.]

They are certainly interesting. They appear to be relatively harmless, though I would not—

[Alex speaks up.]

This looks familiar. I've seen it before when I was a kid. It feels familiar, too. Like... magic...

[Her head snaps around as he reaches towards it, and she drops the comm as she runs towards him. It falls so that you can still see what they’re doing, though at like a forty-five degree angle.]

Alex, do not—

[And then he pokes at the spindle right before she reaches him, and he sways for a second before crashing towards the ground.]

—touch it!

[She catches him right before he hits the pavement, and just stares for a second. Then her face contorts to worry, and she presses her ear to his chest. Then, still hearing a heartbeat, she pulls back and sighs, looking down at him with more concern on her face. She hoists him into her arms and the camera times out, flickering off after she starts walking towards it.]

symmachy

[video flicks on. for once, she isn't in her dojo--she is actually walking around downtown, wearing a dark coat that is contrasted by a white shirt. her short red hair is being blown a bit by the wind, and she keeps reaching up to brush her bangs from her eyes. she looks pretty content, and her voice confirms that. as she walks, some people turn to glance at her, but none of them stare for too long.]

It has been a while since I have actually explored the City. It is reminiscent of New York, yes, but I had not been there in many years. There are always new things to be found.

[moving the comm to one hand, she holds up a few bags with the other. they're paper, but a few stalks of celery and some bulges in the relative shape of pears are visible.] Such as indoor fruit markets. Mildly expensive, considering the season, but worth it.

[a small, happy smile.]

I believe my class will have to be canceled, today. I think an extra day of rest is in order.

[ooc; let's just say that she did have class today, alright?]

symmachy

[her voice sounds a bi tired, but she's doing a pretty good job of hiding it and sounding totally nonchalant.]

What a week. I believe I could use a run to... [pause, and then she sounds slightly amused.] ... liven myself up.

Would anyone care to join me? It would only be for a few miles.

( private, troy bolton. )

( private, alex summers. )

( private, scott summers. )

[ooc; scatty isn't very technologically adept, so everything is hackable with a little bit of work.

also! for this run, i can post one big log if anybody really wants me to, or we can handwave it all? let me know! i'm good with anything, though i won't be around much tomorrow.]

symmachy

[video flicks on to show scathach's bedroom. it isn't a very impressive room, so i'm not going to bother describing it :| but there is a bed in there because she likes to ~*pretend*~ that she uses it. anyway, the camera is facing in front of her so you can't see her face. but she begins speaking as she moves to leave. so i guess you're getting a tour of her home.]

I am not very handy with tools and the like. I did build my dojo in San Francisco, yes, but it took me many years and much help. I suppose I'll never be a carpenter, though it would have been nice.

[into the kitchen! passing by the countertops/table and looking at a door, which she opens to reveal a staircase leading down. she takes it.]

Recently, however, I did discover that using a hammer and nail is not nearly as difficult as it used to be.

[walking through the dojo and she turns to the right and there on the wall is an ancient celtic sword that scott gave her over here. it's mounted in plain sight, resting on a shelf--you don't want to know how long she spent putting that up. there's an inscription written in neat script on the edge of said shelf, and it's in gaelic, so don't worry about what it says unless you can read gaelic. but it says "from a warrior and friend" so if you can read gaelic, more power to you.

her voice, when it comes back in, is genuinely happy.]

I think, though, that my efforts were well-worth it.

symmachy

[recording flicks on to show scathach seated on the floor of her dojo, like always. one of her twin short swords is laid flat in front of her, and the other is in her hands. she's running a whetstone over the edge of the blade, honing its edge to a perfect sharpness.]

I have a question, City. Were you to be given a weapon, and taught to use it, what would that weapon be?

[she glances up at the camera, and smiles a bit.]

Simple curiosity is my motivation for this question. I have a very old interest in such things.

symmachy

[video flicks on to show scatty's dojo; the picture is sideways, since the camera is lying on its side. after a few seconds, a small hand reaches out and grabs it. the picture swings around for a few seconds before scatty brings it to focus on her face. she looks horribly pale, more so than usual, and her skin seems to be stretched tight over her bones.

but she gives small smile anyway, and it offers some relief from her too-sharp features.]

Thank you for inviting me to Denver, Warren. I enjoyed myself very much. I suppose this is a bit late, but --better late than never, yes?

[she falls abruptly silent, and her smile fades. her nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath of air. she lets it out slowly, eyes closed, before her eyes wander back to the camera; her tone is a bit more monotone here.]

The new year approaches quickly. Have any of you come up with any resolutions yet? I believe mine will be to learn something new.

[pause. another smile, and she shows her teeth. they're almost the same shade of alabaster as her skin.]

I don't suppose that will be too hard, will it?

[another nostril-flaring breath, and she reaches out to cut the recording; someone who's either looking for it or just good at noticing things might see that her hand shakes just a little before she turns off the camera.]

symmachy

聖誕快樂新年快樂

Joyeux Noël.

Fröhliche Weihnachten.

Καλά Χριστούγεννα.

חג מולד שמח ושנה טובה

Buon Natale.

メリークリスマス

Natale hilare.

Wesołych świąt i szczęśliwego nowego roku.

Feliz Navidad.

God jul och gott nytt år.

But my personal favorite: Nollaig shona duit.

Merry Christmas, in whichever language you choose.

[ooc; for reference, i don't speak any of these languages, except spanish. i jacked these from this site. so if anything is wrong... don't tell me because i won't be able to fix it /sob. but merry christmas, c&c!

in order, they are: mandarin chinese, french, german, greek, hebrew, italian, japanese, latin, polish, spanish, swedish, gaelic, and english.]

symmachy

[video pops up to show scatty sitting in what looks like... a café. yes, she does get out of the dojo sometimes, okay. she's wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, and is holding a mug full of something that's steaming. there are people moving in and out of the frame in the background, but they aren't paying her any attention, and she returns the favor. her voice is sincere, and a small smile plays across her lips.]

I would like to thank everyone who attended the Solstice celebration yesterday evening. It is a very special day to me, and it made me feel... at home to celebrate. The new year will be prosperous, I am sure. So again, thank you.

Scott, I have already cleared away all the remnants of our presence there, so do not worry about it. I am very grateful that you allowed me to use the Institute grounds, and am in your debt.

[she takes a sip of the drink—it's tea, by the way—and her expression slips into contemplation.]

Christmas in a few days, then the New Year and my birthday. It seems as if it has only been a moment since I arrived in the Autumn. Now it is Winter, and soon Spring. My, how time flies.

[a small, almost sad smile.]

I only wonder how long this quiet will last.

[she sighs lowly, and then reaches forward to turn off the recorder.]

[ooc; speaking of, the solstice log is still up, so if you wanted a character there but haven't had a chance to post yet, go for it!]

symmachy

[video flicks on with a picture of scatty sitting at her kitchen table—said table is covered with tape and scissors, and a few quaintly-wrapped packages are just visible on the floor behind her. she gives a small smile, and though she looks a little paler than usual. which isn't really saying much.]

I suppose I'm a bit early with the shopping, but—

[she glances over her shoulder at the presents, then angles her body to better hide them before turning back to the camera.]

I think I will buy some new clothing for myself, as an early, personal gift. I don't think this—[she gestures to her current tank top]—is considered proper winter attire, however unaffected by the weather I may be.

[her expression turns thoughtful, and she blinks her large grass green eyes a few times in contemplation.]

This is... [pause as she thinks of a word.] ... invigorating. I haven't felt so content in many years.

[another smile, and she reaches forward to cut the recording.]

symmachy

( locked to those who live/work at the institute )

voice.

[she sounds pretty content. her voice might even have a hint of happiness to it, which is just her slipping up from her control. thanks, all you rabid christmas shoppers, for giving her your excitement.]

It has been a while since I've looked so forward to the holidays. I'm not completely sure why—perhaps because this year, I am able to celebrate them with others. Especially the Solstice. I am grateful for the opportunity to properly observe it.

[pause.]

I cannot wait for true snow to fall. It will be a blessing in itself.

[ooc; idk about the weather in the city... if it's already snowed then she'll make up something about how it wasn't REAL snowfall idk. /crawls away]

Current Location: out

symmachy

( locked to those who live/work at the institute )

voice.

Time passes quickly. Already, a month and a half has gone by. [she pauses for a little while, and sighs lowly. her tone holds just a smidge of sorrow, but she’s doing a pretty good job of hiding it.]

By this time, it is likely that Nicholas and Perenelle have met their ends. It is a sad thing. They were great assets to humanity, and will be sorely missed.

[another pause. her words are halting, her voice strained. she’s still trying to hide what she’s feeling.]

Those of you who have lost someone... close. What is the appropriate length of time to spend in mourning?

[ooc; brad, i hope this was alright to post! and i'm not sure whether or not people outside the institute could be invited or not, so i didn't mention it—that's up to you. idk how things at the school work lol ): just let me know!]

Current Location: out

symmachy

[video pops up as a picture of scathach sitting at a kitchen table—yes, it's her kitchen table. she really has one of those, okay. anyway, she's at the table with a bowl of fruit next to of her. she's wearing a white camisole, and the tops of her bare knees rest under her chin as she draws them to her chest. she picks up a banana, and starts to peel it as she speaks.]

Thanksgiving is only a few days away. You know, I have never understood what the big deal was about the Pilgrims and the Native Americans getting together for a feast. It isn't as if that was the first time it ever happened—the white Europeans may have been new settlers, but there were others before them who explored the land and ate with the natives. The Spanish, for example.

Granted, the Spaniards weren't as accepting of the natives as the Separatists, but I digress. I was not in North America at that time, and I probably shouldn't judge.

[she inspects the banana, turning the pale fruit over in her fingers a few times and scrutinizing its flesh.]

I suppose it is because the natives saved the Pilgrims. The continuation of life is reason enough to celebrate, I guess.

[she finally deems the fruit acceptable, and takes a bite of it. her elongated incisors are visible for just a second before disappearing as she closes her mouth. then she gives a close-lipped smile, and swallows.]

Delicious.

[ooc; you know what. idek.]

Current Location: dojo; kitchen

symmachy

[recording starts with a low, feral snarl. it fades into a hiss as an explosion sounds in the distance. she's running, and it's only obvious because her footfalls are running on shattered glass. her voice is forcibly controlled, though it's obvious to the naked ear that she's subtly furious.]

Hekate help me, if my dojo is even touched by a bomb, I will search every fucking nook and cranny of this city to find the one responsible.

[she takes a deep breath, but stops in the middle of it and sniffs a few times. her steps slow, and she sniffs again.]

What—what is that? It doesn't smell like—

[and now there's a huge BOOM-KAPLOWWIE-CRASH-SMASH of a bomb going off like right next to her—and by right next to her i mean about ten feet away. needless to say, she's thrown off her feet and there's a loud SMACK-CRASH as she's thrown into another building.

there's a pause, and then the CRUMBLE-SQUELCH-CLINK of her peeling her body away from said building. she spits, and it hits the ground with an audible splat. the CRACKLE-FWOOSH of fire is audible, and so are her words.]

Fuck. It's going to take water, isn't it. I fucking hate water.

[recording fades out with the crunching of her boos across more shattered glass as she heads towards that fire.]

[ooc; idk, someone wanna find her/help her? she isn't very banged up—some of her clothes have been burned away and there might be some shards of glass sticking out of her, but she's okay i promise. (: SHE'S JUST MORE WORRIED ABOUT THAT FIRE GETTING CLOSE TO HER DOJO THAN HERSELF.]

Current Location: downtown

symmachy

[not much in the way of background noise, but her voice is almost too casual.]

I will be resuming my classes as of today.

( private, encrypted to alex summers/havok. )

Current Location: dojo

symmachy

[video clicks on. first of all, "master of puppets" by metallica is playing in the background because it's stuck in my head right now. second, scatty is looking a little worse for wear; her skin looks exceptionally pale and stretched tight over her face, giving her more of a skull-like appearance. her freckles are faded, and her eyes are wide, cat-like pupils contracted to small vertical slits.

anyway, she's sitting cross-legged on the floor in her dojo, wearing just some black spandex shorts and a white tank-top. she's barefoot, and is idly twirling a dagger around her fingers. it's more of a nervous habit than anything. she speaks, not looking directly at the camera, but at a point somewhere off to the left.]

It's gone. I shouldn't feel it anymore.

But the thing is, I can. It's there, festering like an open wound.

[she shakes her head slowly, and finally looks into the camera directly. she tilts her head to the side, and gives a low sigh.

then, something that shouldn't happen does. the dagger slips and falls, the blade catching against her thigh on the way to the ground. it cuts through her skin, and a line of blood swells up before dripping down her leg towards the dojo floor. the redhead just stares down at the gash for a few seconds before her lips press together in a thin line. she continues just staring at the cut as she speaks:]

Well. Fuck me sideways.

[and then the recording cuts.]

Current Location: dojo

symmachy

[starts out with the methodic scraping of a whetstone against metal—she's sharpening her swords. goodness knows they probably need it. scathach gives a low sigh before speaking; her voice is contemplative, almost monotone.]

All Souls' Day. Día de los Muertos. Dia dos Fiéis Defuntos. There are many names for the same celebration. It is ironic that the dead returned to the other world just the day before it is said they should return to ours, no? [dry laugh.]

Either way, summer has come to an end. It's a shame I wasn't able to properly celebrate Samhain, though. There should have been a bonfire, and feasting. On my Isle, all of my students would have worn masks and battles would have been held to honor both the dead and the living.

But at least now, the dead may rest as they should.

[and this last part is just a low murmur, barely audible:]

My ancestors would be ashamed that I disregarded Samhuinn.

[another sigh, and the recording cuts.]

Current Location: dojo

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WELCOME TO DREAMWIDTH, HERO...

January 2014

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WELCOME TO DREAMWIDTH, HERO...

Entries tagged with scathach | the shadow

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007. [video] backdated to 17 march, yesterday

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January 2014

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