Post by Deleted on Jun 2, 2016 17:45:18 GMT
A glistening shimmer burst through the windowpane of a squat, pink domed building within a sprawling burg. It had only one window and a large ovular door. The building was a home located in South City and owned by a couple and their fully-grown daughter Denim. She lay sprawled across the frame of a queen size bed beneath a layer of heavy, purple sheets. Her face kissing the pages of an open book breathed onto the paper a warm, sticky spit. Now her mind was off duty and wandering the realm of dreams but in just a few seconds, an alarm sounded from a watch on her wrist causing her to awaken from her slumber. A pair of blue eyes opened to the world pulling away from the pages of script stuck to her lips. Her fingers on her right hand curled and rose to rub the top of her lilac hair. Then they lowered unto her mouth blocking a yawn that sought escape.
She blinked before finally sitting up and realized it was morning. Her eyes gazed downwards knowing that at this time it was time to get dressed especially since she wore only a white tank top with a pair of pink pajama bottoms. Denim slid off her covers rising to her full height being careful not to trip in her tired state. “What was I doing last night,” she pondered to herself while slipping on brown bunny slippers, “and what do I need to do this morning besides dress?”
Her eyes fell back to the bed. It was a mess with the crumpled pile of sheets, thrown pillows, and dried spit resting on it. “I’ll fix that later,” she told herself grabbing the book in her hands and reading the title, “The Powers that Be: Fighting in the Modern Age”.
She thumbed through the pages remembering she picked it up from the library the other day because it had information concerning her latest goal. “What kind of warrior should she become to be a heroine?”
In the book, there were descriptions of three types of common heroes: the adventurer, vigilante, and hero. The first type was a person who went out and chose quests for themselves to complete they helped whoever they could, but always stayed within the confines of the law. The second type was a being who helped people but in order to do so usually break the laws, whether good or bad, during these times. The final type was a character set on completing quests as a part of some overall destiny; they managed quite often not to break the law too. By reading all three, she understood what she had to do yet her problem was still, “What kind of power should she gain to protect others?”
The reason she asked this was due to the fact the book gave her a few examples of the heroes that filled these roles. She was unable to remember whom these people were but knew they possessed everything from physical strength to bona fide magic. It was hard to think on what kinds of abilities she might decide to use to help herself or others especially since she was unsure if she could even gain some of the particular powers listed, tossing the book back onto her sheets though she marched across the room, thrust open her closet, and yanked off her clothes. Next, she took to rifling through her drawers and switched them out for a pair of white shorts, a yellow t-shirt, a red vest, and short, gray socks that she put on. Finally, she stepped away from the closet and headed back to her bed bending over to grab the book once more and move her sheets around order to pull, tuck, and straighten them on the mattress’ frame.
Once she accomplished this, it was finally time for her to go. She walked past the other stuff in her room including a small desk and bookcase, chock full of books, by her room’s door and sauntered softly past another room where loud snores ruptured the early morning silence. She smiled hoping her parents remained happily in dreamland as she moved down a hallway, past a small kitchen/living room by the front door and sallied through a door at the end before managing to slip on a pair of forest green sneakers. She needed to walk before coming back to officially tell her parents she was going to protect the city. The two of them wanted to see her retry for a job somewhere and although she had surprisingly not met with much success. Denim was smart but because she did not express her opinion well enough she came off as someone too weak to work with many of the corporations in the area. These people also learned of her work with the smaller newspapers and felt she was a scatterbrain or had poor judgment if she was unable to back her articles up with sound evidence. She just did not like the hurried rush of the newspaper reporters and because of that; her writing quality was poor prompting her to want to write independent books.
As she stepped out the door, she breathed in a breath of fresh air only to have a young, barefoot woman with black hair, wearing green robes, step up onto her house’s porch. She did not say a word to the woman though as she approached.
The woman kneeled at her feet and stated, “Good morning Ma’am, I am Jacquette. If you remember the “Cloth du Sway” Dojo, I was among your fellow trainees there. I have come, as is customary, to complete my training and shadow you. May you thread a path for me today?” Denim wanted to role her eyes at this woman but bowed then responded, “A needle shall I thread.”
At her school, it was customary for students to shadow former students outside the complex, especially if they were masters of the martial arts. Jacquette had come to do just that, and as a result, Denim knew she had to watch her. Jacquette smiled and uttered, “Thank you Master Denim of the Ippiki Arts.”
Denim shrugged her shoulders, not willing to correct her on the fact she had only been a student, and examined the woman further she appeared to be eighteen yet rather thin. Monks always seemed to be that way there since they trained from sunup to sundown; however, she said nothing on the matter and instead stepped down from her house’s front step. The young woman followed and she continued to walk on. She knew that this woman was shadowing her all day. In addition, they would go into any building, bathroom, or public space she happened to visit.
It was customary of students to cling to the closest living alumni of the monk academy, which usually meant her since she lived only a few blocks from the school. Denim placed her hands in her pockets and slouched as people on the streets moved aside for them. They were doing so simply due to being awestruck by Jacquette following Denim. This was another reason why she had been unable to find real work since the school’s practice disturbed potential employers. Luckily, the martial arts school was not dumb and never paired different genders together for training. It bothered her though because she was unable to live a normal life after losing her regular job at the press.
Another rule about this master-apprentice practice was as long as Denim worked/studied somewhere nobody needed to visit her. Yet if she remained idle, the school expected all of their alumni to work with a student. It is primarily why she went to college and earned a real job. Originally, she had no clue their mantra, “Study makes a person strong. Idle hands do not belong.” was as literal as written.
Denim sighed sulking as she stopped in front of a diner three blocks away. A big hamburger sign hung from it making her mouth water. Jacquette though tore her away from the moment by tapping her on the shoulder.
“Are we eating here master?” she asked clasping her hands together, “if we are I have no money but I will cook for them if I must!”
“I am. You are not. Stand here and wait for me.” She said wanting to step inside, order food, and ditch the girl so that she was able to write.
Jacquette refused to do so as Denim shortly learned. The monk grabbed her left wrist and held it tightly. The girl was definitely strong yet she was not strong enough to stop Denim, as she would soon learn.
“No, I must not idle! The work of a monk is always learning!” she cried.
“Then please let go of me and occupy your time with something.” Denim rebutted kindly shaking herself loose. Jacquette whipped her robe around catching the long hem of its sleeves on her arm.
“Not again,” Denim uttered. A fire flashed in Jacquette’s eyes. Denim had not taken notice of it before but they were pink, the eyes of a passionate person.
“You won’t stop my dream! I’ll be the greatest martial artist the world has ever seen!” Jacquette cried. Her free fist pulled back immediately surrounding itself in a burst of fiery red ki. She brought it forward a second later and without a word, Denim took the blow right in the gut.
Her world spun and she fainted. The next thing she knew Jacquette was standing over her and stuck her tongue out in her face. “Thanks master for nothing,” she stated before running off back to wherever she had come from.
Denim gripped the pavement and pushed off onto her feet. She felt the air clear in her head as she walked back to her house deciding two things. First, that restaurant was off limits; second, becoming a martial artist was not her dream. She skimmed recalling the book she devoured last night. Besides physical strength, ki, and magic there existed technical prowess, demonic power, and mutative science. There were other things too but everything seemed to interconnect at that point. She needed to harness these powers as her own so the past could not hurt her anymore. That much was clear in her newly formulating plans to go beyond a hero and become a person.
She blinked before finally sitting up and realized it was morning. Her eyes gazed downwards knowing that at this time it was time to get dressed especially since she wore only a white tank top with a pair of pink pajama bottoms. Denim slid off her covers rising to her full height being careful not to trip in her tired state. “What was I doing last night,” she pondered to herself while slipping on brown bunny slippers, “and what do I need to do this morning besides dress?”
Her eyes fell back to the bed. It was a mess with the crumpled pile of sheets, thrown pillows, and dried spit resting on it. “I’ll fix that later,” she told herself grabbing the book in her hands and reading the title, “The Powers that Be: Fighting in the Modern Age”.
She thumbed through the pages remembering she picked it up from the library the other day because it had information concerning her latest goal. “What kind of warrior should she become to be a heroine?”
In the book, there were descriptions of three types of common heroes: the adventurer, vigilante, and hero. The first type was a person who went out and chose quests for themselves to complete they helped whoever they could, but always stayed within the confines of the law. The second type was a being who helped people but in order to do so usually break the laws, whether good or bad, during these times. The final type was a character set on completing quests as a part of some overall destiny; they managed quite often not to break the law too. By reading all three, she understood what she had to do yet her problem was still, “What kind of power should she gain to protect others?”
The reason she asked this was due to the fact the book gave her a few examples of the heroes that filled these roles. She was unable to remember whom these people were but knew they possessed everything from physical strength to bona fide magic. It was hard to think on what kinds of abilities she might decide to use to help herself or others especially since she was unsure if she could even gain some of the particular powers listed, tossing the book back onto her sheets though she marched across the room, thrust open her closet, and yanked off her clothes. Next, she took to rifling through her drawers and switched them out for a pair of white shorts, a yellow t-shirt, a red vest, and short, gray socks that she put on. Finally, she stepped away from the closet and headed back to her bed bending over to grab the book once more and move her sheets around order to pull, tuck, and straighten them on the mattress’ frame.
Once she accomplished this, it was finally time for her to go. She walked past the other stuff in her room including a small desk and bookcase, chock full of books, by her room’s door and sauntered softly past another room where loud snores ruptured the early morning silence. She smiled hoping her parents remained happily in dreamland as she moved down a hallway, past a small kitchen/living room by the front door and sallied through a door at the end before managing to slip on a pair of forest green sneakers. She needed to walk before coming back to officially tell her parents she was going to protect the city. The two of them wanted to see her retry for a job somewhere and although she had surprisingly not met with much success. Denim was smart but because she did not express her opinion well enough she came off as someone too weak to work with many of the corporations in the area. These people also learned of her work with the smaller newspapers and felt she was a scatterbrain or had poor judgment if she was unable to back her articles up with sound evidence. She just did not like the hurried rush of the newspaper reporters and because of that; her writing quality was poor prompting her to want to write independent books.
As she stepped out the door, she breathed in a breath of fresh air only to have a young, barefoot woman with black hair, wearing green robes, step up onto her house’s porch. She did not say a word to the woman though as she approached.
The woman kneeled at her feet and stated, “Good morning Ma’am, I am Jacquette. If you remember the “Cloth du Sway” Dojo, I was among your fellow trainees there. I have come, as is customary, to complete my training and shadow you. May you thread a path for me today?” Denim wanted to role her eyes at this woman but bowed then responded, “A needle shall I thread.”
At her school, it was customary for students to shadow former students outside the complex, especially if they were masters of the martial arts. Jacquette had come to do just that, and as a result, Denim knew she had to watch her. Jacquette smiled and uttered, “Thank you Master Denim of the Ippiki Arts.”
Denim shrugged her shoulders, not willing to correct her on the fact she had only been a student, and examined the woman further she appeared to be eighteen yet rather thin. Monks always seemed to be that way there since they trained from sunup to sundown; however, she said nothing on the matter and instead stepped down from her house’s front step. The young woman followed and she continued to walk on. She knew that this woman was shadowing her all day. In addition, they would go into any building, bathroom, or public space she happened to visit.
It was customary of students to cling to the closest living alumni of the monk academy, which usually meant her since she lived only a few blocks from the school. Denim placed her hands in her pockets and slouched as people on the streets moved aside for them. They were doing so simply due to being awestruck by Jacquette following Denim. This was another reason why she had been unable to find real work since the school’s practice disturbed potential employers. Luckily, the martial arts school was not dumb and never paired different genders together for training. It bothered her though because she was unable to live a normal life after losing her regular job at the press.
Another rule about this master-apprentice practice was as long as Denim worked/studied somewhere nobody needed to visit her. Yet if she remained idle, the school expected all of their alumni to work with a student. It is primarily why she went to college and earned a real job. Originally, she had no clue their mantra, “Study makes a person strong. Idle hands do not belong.” was as literal as written.
Denim sighed sulking as she stopped in front of a diner three blocks away. A big hamburger sign hung from it making her mouth water. Jacquette though tore her away from the moment by tapping her on the shoulder.
“Are we eating here master?” she asked clasping her hands together, “if we are I have no money but I will cook for them if I must!”
“I am. You are not. Stand here and wait for me.” She said wanting to step inside, order food, and ditch the girl so that she was able to write.
Jacquette refused to do so as Denim shortly learned. The monk grabbed her left wrist and held it tightly. The girl was definitely strong yet she was not strong enough to stop Denim, as she would soon learn.
“No, I must not idle! The work of a monk is always learning!” she cried.
“Then please let go of me and occupy your time with something.” Denim rebutted kindly shaking herself loose. Jacquette whipped her robe around catching the long hem of its sleeves on her arm.
“Not again,” Denim uttered. A fire flashed in Jacquette’s eyes. Denim had not taken notice of it before but they were pink, the eyes of a passionate person.
“You won’t stop my dream! I’ll be the greatest martial artist the world has ever seen!” Jacquette cried. Her free fist pulled back immediately surrounding itself in a burst of fiery red ki. She brought it forward a second later and without a word, Denim took the blow right in the gut.
Her world spun and she fainted. The next thing she knew Jacquette was standing over her and stuck her tongue out in her face. “Thanks master for nothing,” she stated before running off back to wherever she had come from.
Denim gripped the pavement and pushed off onto her feet. She felt the air clear in her head as she walked back to her house deciding two things. First, that restaurant was off limits; second, becoming a martial artist was not her dream. She skimmed recalling the book she devoured last night. Besides physical strength, ki, and magic there existed technical prowess, demonic power, and mutative science. There were other things too but everything seemed to interconnect at that point. She needed to harness these powers as her own so the past could not hurt her anymore. That much was clear in her newly formulating plans to go beyond a hero and become a person.
