Saval Chronicles [1]
In the Shrine of the Tentacle must be read before you read this, else all that your eyes will witness on this page shall make very little (or, in my opinion, littler) sense.
The epic journey following the adventures of yours truly and darkwings08 begins.
Disclaimer: This is all for shits and giggles, written by me when a plotbunny whacked me over the head with a spoon of epic proportions. All characters mentioned in this piece (not including Sa and I) are only used for fun, no copyright was intended at all and no offence was meant. All ideas for freakishly weirdo plotlines were taken from actual conversations between darkwings08 and I :)
Made purely for enjoyment so... go forth and enjoy!
--~*~--
Verse 1 - Aftertaste
--~*~--
We don’t agree to be the chosen ones. The Tentacle chooses us. It comes to us at different times in our lives and makes us awesome. I am the first to be visited. The Tentacle’s prophecy of me meeting “someone strange who you will gravitate towards nonetheless” is not met with jumps of joy and claps of glee. I don’t want to be visited. I don’t want to be interrupted from an epically amazing dream that plays up my voyeuristic, sadistic and yaoi fantasies to an amazingly high level. No, I don’t want it. But alas, as the Tentacle says, so it shall be, and that very day, I, still groggy from sleep and grumpy from my forceful wakefulness , meet Sa. And so it all begins.
Sa had never been visited by the Tentacle, and had never been told about me. I guess this is why I am to write the Saval Gospel and not she. I had to find her, and the Tentacle saw that I did just that. Nonetheless, when it sees fit the Tentacle visits her in dreams as well, proclaiming the name Dave and leaving without another word as the Tentacle is wont to do. As we are the messengers from The Tentacle it is our duty to find this “Dave” and either annihilate him or convert him, the Tentacle has been vague on that point. Personally I would much rather pretend I am on a mission of the utmost importance and think myself a hero: methinks Dave must be SAVED. And thus, with one name and only each other and the faith in the Tentacle to support us, we start out on our epic journey.
…
The Tentacle has many ways of making Its prophecies known to us, of making Its wise words make sense for me to scribble them in such a manner for everyone to read and learn from. I have decided to write this using a computer, as my writing - beautiful as it is - is not always legible when the Tentacle awakens me at ungodly hours of the night to scribble down Its latest prophecy, whim or shopping list.
In this case, I’m listening to “I Kissed and Girl” and reading an amazingly wumpy fic when Sa, in all her infinite glory and stunning wisdom, appears with an unusual complaint: “Argh, so did I. And I DIDN’T like it.”
“Was she hot?” My mind is elsewhere, the fanfic I just got a link to is ten pages from nearing its conclusion and the scene is not one I want to miss.
“Gah, no. Wrong girl, wrong time, wrong place, just wrong.” Sa sounds earnest.
I sigh. The fanfic will have to wait, as my services are required to beat the living shit out of this “wrong girl” in the “wrong time” at the “wrong place”. I still hold that it is due to Sa and I both being fans of similar - if not identical - yaoi-wumpings and sometimes - God forbid - original series’ that the Tentacle has placed me not only in the role of Its Holy Scribe, but also as Sa’s protector. Thus I get the short temper, sexy car and criminally good looks. She, as a bonus, gets the mild temperament, more fan girls than I, and an amazing ability to bring a “holier-than-thou” aspect to every conversation we hold. We are a pair indeed.
It appears The Tentacle has developed a sense of humour: It loves to torment me by interrupting my fanfic time. First the painting, and now this. But Its will must be obeyed, so it is written. Or so I wrote two days ago when I was bribed with a cookie.
“Your future lies with Dave, what did you go kissing the girl for?”
“I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me.”
I look Sa in the eyes - or so I say, as, of course, Sa and I have never met, the Tentacle has simply brought our spirits together - and sigh. She isn’t lying. The Tentacle obviously wants to test her, and, as she lacks the seemingly natural affinity to mathematics like most normal happy teenagers, the Tentacle has decided to attack her through a medium she cannot escape from: her dreams.
Oh, It is wicked. Wicked but fair.
“Did you know her?” I ask, sitting up to look more majestic, though besides myself no one else is in the room. Except the Tentacle. The Tentacle is always there.
“Yea, but that doesn’t mean I liked her.” Sa takes a deep breath. I refrain from making a comment akin to “Dude, if she’s hot, who cares bout liking her?” as I know that at this moment, she needs her holier-than-thou aspect to get through a difficult time. I grant her that, if anything, and shut the hell up.
“Val,” she says with determination in her voice.
“Yes, Sa?” I act as though I care truly and utterly about a nightmare that may or may not have been sent by the Tentacle. That scene calls me and sometimes the bonds of friendship must be tested with the unwavering and all-powerful yaoi-obsession. It calls to me, and its call is irresistible.
“She left a bad aftertaste.”
The words hit me like a train travelling at 50km/hr hits a snail travelling at .005km/hr in the opposite direction. The impact is great. My eyes widen. My first thought is “Eww…” this is soon replaced by “By the power of Grayskull!” before more coherent thought patterns form in my brain and realization dawns on me.
“Sa,” I say, with much more conviction this time. I like feeling important.
“Yes, Val?” she replies, her calm tone returning. She feels more important than me, and, I have to give her that, right now she is.
“She… do you not understand who she is?”
“A random chick who doesn’t brush her teeth?”
“She is the evil Being of Doomage! This dream was not sent to you by the Tentacle, it was sent to take your faith in the Tentacle away!”
Sa raises an eyebrow - or, I assume she does - and makes a thinking noise. My powers of intuition tell me that she’s actually thinking about why she didn’t get a corned beef sandwich for dinner and instead got tuna. Indeed, a pressing problem. There is a moment of silence between us.
“What would you have me do?” she asks finally, deciding internally that tuna will simply have to do for dinner, as she has no time for such fickle matters. Although corned beef would have been preferred.
“Not you, we.” I assure her as I quickly flick back to the fanfic and read another paragraph. “We,” I say again, making sure to keep her attention as mine returns to much more pleasurable thoughts than evil Beings of Doomage. “We,” I repeat for the third time, as I always sound more important when I say things three times. “Will have to find the evil Being of Doomage. For she has stolen something of great import to us and to the Tentacle.”
“What?” Sa’s mind leaves the pressing problem of dinner for good this time.
I pause, my words must not only have gravity, but epic gravity. Gravity like on Jupiter where if a person so chose to land on its - in actuality - non-existent surface they would be squashed into a pancake, then flattened into a sheet, then folded into an Origami crane before being returned to earth in a little shiny box with “To mommy” on the ribbon. The gravity that I had to have on my words cannot be measured in human terms. Mustering up as much gravity as my lungs can contain at one time, I slowly reply.
“It has stolen… Dave.”
--~*~--
The Epicness Continues: Verse 2
The epic journey following the adventures of yours truly and darkwings08 begins.
Disclaimer: This is all for shits and giggles, written by me when a plotbunny whacked me over the head with a spoon of epic proportions. All characters mentioned in this piece (not including Sa and I) are only used for fun, no copyright was intended at all and no offence was meant. All ideas for freakishly weirdo plotlines were taken from actual conversations between darkwings08 and I :)
Made purely for enjoyment so... go forth and enjoy!
--~*~--
Verse 1 - Aftertaste
--~*~--
We don’t agree to be the chosen ones. The Tentacle chooses us. It comes to us at different times in our lives and makes us awesome. I am the first to be visited. The Tentacle’s prophecy of me meeting “someone strange who you will gravitate towards nonetheless” is not met with jumps of joy and claps of glee. I don’t want to be visited. I don’t want to be interrupted from an epically amazing dream that plays up my voyeuristic, sadistic and yaoi fantasies to an amazingly high level. No, I don’t want it. But alas, as the Tentacle says, so it shall be, and that very day, I, still groggy from sleep and grumpy from my forceful wakefulness , meet Sa. And so it all begins.
Sa had never been visited by the Tentacle, and had never been told about me. I guess this is why I am to write the Saval Gospel and not she. I had to find her, and the Tentacle saw that I did just that. Nonetheless, when it sees fit the Tentacle visits her in dreams as well, proclaiming the name Dave and leaving without another word as the Tentacle is wont to do. As we are the messengers from The Tentacle it is our duty to find this “Dave” and either annihilate him or convert him, the Tentacle has been vague on that point. Personally I would much rather pretend I am on a mission of the utmost importance and think myself a hero: methinks Dave must be SAVED. And thus, with one name and only each other and the faith in the Tentacle to support us, we start out on our epic journey.
…
The Tentacle has many ways of making Its prophecies known to us, of making Its wise words make sense for me to scribble them in such a manner for everyone to read and learn from. I have decided to write this using a computer, as my writing - beautiful as it is - is not always legible when the Tentacle awakens me at ungodly hours of the night to scribble down Its latest prophecy, whim or shopping list.
In this case, I’m listening to “I Kissed and Girl” and reading an amazingly wumpy fic when Sa, in all her infinite glory and stunning wisdom, appears with an unusual complaint: “Argh, so did I. And I DIDN’T like it.”
“Was she hot?” My mind is elsewhere, the fanfic I just got a link to is ten pages from nearing its conclusion and the scene is not one I want to miss.
“Gah, no. Wrong girl, wrong time, wrong place, just wrong.” Sa sounds earnest.
I sigh. The fanfic will have to wait, as my services are required to beat the living shit out of this “wrong girl” in the “wrong time” at the “wrong place”. I still hold that it is due to Sa and I both being fans of similar - if not identical - yaoi-wumpings and sometimes - God forbid - original series’ that the Tentacle has placed me not only in the role of Its Holy Scribe, but also as Sa’s protector. Thus I get the short temper, sexy car and criminally good looks. She, as a bonus, gets the mild temperament, more fan girls than I, and an amazing ability to bring a “holier-than-thou” aspect to every conversation we hold. We are a pair indeed.
It appears The Tentacle has developed a sense of humour: It loves to torment me by interrupting my fanfic time. First the painting, and now this. But Its will must be obeyed, so it is written. Or so I wrote two days ago when I was bribed with a cookie.
“Your future lies with Dave, what did you go kissing the girl for?”
“I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me.”
I look Sa in the eyes - or so I say, as, of course, Sa and I have never met, the Tentacle has simply brought our spirits together - and sigh. She isn’t lying. The Tentacle obviously wants to test her, and, as she lacks the seemingly natural affinity to mathematics like most normal happy teenagers, the Tentacle has decided to attack her through a medium she cannot escape from: her dreams.
Oh, It is wicked. Wicked but fair.
“Did you know her?” I ask, sitting up to look more majestic, though besides myself no one else is in the room. Except the Tentacle. The Tentacle is always there.
“Yea, but that doesn’t mean I liked her.” Sa takes a deep breath. I refrain from making a comment akin to “Dude, if she’s hot, who cares bout liking her?” as I know that at this moment, she needs her holier-than-thou aspect to get through a difficult time. I grant her that, if anything, and shut the hell up.
“Val,” she says with determination in her voice.
“Yes, Sa?” I act as though I care truly and utterly about a nightmare that may or may not have been sent by the Tentacle. That scene calls me and sometimes the bonds of friendship must be tested with the unwavering and all-powerful yaoi-obsession. It calls to me, and its call is irresistible.
“She left a bad aftertaste.”
The words hit me like a train travelling at 50km/hr hits a snail travelling at .005km/hr in the opposite direction. The impact is great. My eyes widen. My first thought is “Eww…” this is soon replaced by “By the power of Grayskull!” before more coherent thought patterns form in my brain and realization dawns on me.
“Sa,” I say, with much more conviction this time. I like feeling important.
“Yes, Val?” she replies, her calm tone returning. She feels more important than me, and, I have to give her that, right now she is.
“She… do you not understand who she is?”
“A random chick who doesn’t brush her teeth?”
“She is the evil Being of Doomage! This dream was not sent to you by the Tentacle, it was sent to take your faith in the Tentacle away!”
Sa raises an eyebrow - or, I assume she does - and makes a thinking noise. My powers of intuition tell me that she’s actually thinking about why she didn’t get a corned beef sandwich for dinner and instead got tuna. Indeed, a pressing problem. There is a moment of silence between us.
“What would you have me do?” she asks finally, deciding internally that tuna will simply have to do for dinner, as she has no time for such fickle matters. Although corned beef would have been preferred.
“Not you, we.” I assure her as I quickly flick back to the fanfic and read another paragraph. “We,” I say again, making sure to keep her attention as mine returns to much more pleasurable thoughts than evil Beings of Doomage. “We,” I repeat for the third time, as I always sound more important when I say things three times. “Will have to find the evil Being of Doomage. For she has stolen something of great import to us and to the Tentacle.”
“What?” Sa’s mind leaves the pressing problem of dinner for good this time.
I pause, my words must not only have gravity, but epic gravity. Gravity like on Jupiter where if a person so chose to land on its - in actuality - non-existent surface they would be squashed into a pancake, then flattened into a sheet, then folded into an Origami crane before being returned to earth in a little shiny box with “To mommy” on the ribbon. The gravity that I had to have on my words cannot be measured in human terms. Mustering up as much gravity as my lungs can contain at one time, I slowly reply.
“It has stolen… Dave.”
--~*~--
The Epicness Continues: Verse 2