scribblemyname | Andromeda Promptathon

scribblemyname

Prompts can be:

Quotes from the beginning of the episodes
Quotes from the actual episodes/characters
Prompts for the characters/world
Prompts for fusions/crossovers
Prompts for original characters in the Andromeda world

Crossposts: http://scribble-myname.livejournal.com/343693.html

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From: (Anonymous)

"Destiny is the promise I give to you.
Hope, the part you play,
is trusting me to keep this promise."
~The Prophetic Tetraglyphs, CY 9537

From: (Anonymous)

This is the list I've been using for the quotes. It's incomplete but some good ones are there:

http://www.billionquotes.com/index.php/Andromeda

From: (Anonymous)

Would Vred be a problem solving type who rids his family of enemies or a lone survivor of a destroyed pride? With the way Nietzcheans work, I'd have to wonder if they'd make him cull the weak from their herds, as it were, and I can't see Vred being wiling to do that.

Or would Vred be another avatar?

Hmm.

(Obviously this story has eaten my brain a little (a lot) and I have all these thoughts... There's a part where someone calls Vred Alik's captain and he gets offended because he doesn't need one and I can picture a bit of dialogue between the two of them about that, too, but that only works if Vred is not an android. Hmm.)

From:

scribblemyname

All things considered, the dynamic would be different with Nietzscheans. He'd probably be an alpha or high-ranking in his pride, also protective of family, possibly adopted by Brenton who in a Nietzschean pride would have been alpha of his brothers. It's less age and diplomacy based for sure.

Now there could be a whole schism in the pride on who deserves to be alpha and a stalemate in fighting for it, and Felise is on the run from the side she didn't take, and Vred is on the side she did.

From: (Anonymous)

That does make sense. I think Brenton as an Alpha definitely applies, and now...

I have ideas.

(That could be a bad thing.)

From: (Anonymous)

Must get brain out of AU. Must get brain out of AU....

“Remind me again why we're doing this?”

Malina laughed, knowing that she should not have to answer that question at all. She had always assumed Alik to be a bit all-knowing, thinking ahead of the rest of them, and when she learned he was a ship, she understood why. “You know you didn't forget.”

Alik did not answer, so she wrapped her arms around him, leaning against him as she'd done since she was a child.

“Because fuel and supplies cost money and while Felise has managed to be more creative than our parents were—I mean, my parents were—with repairs, we need parts we can't build and have no other better way to get them now that the money they left for us is completely gone,” Malina said, closing her eyes and holding onto her brother's strength.

“I dislike strangers.”

“I know, but you have to admit that Felise's addition is a good thing,” Malina said. She thought about saying something about Felise becoming a part of the family, but she knew that everyone seemed to resist that idea—human, Nietzchean, and android alike. Enadar and Felise were in a state of denial, and Alik... Well, that sort of thing was not the function of a warship, and whoever had programmed him back in the Commonwealth had not thought he needed much understanding of human emotions, especially not love.

“These are not additions. They are passengers. Interlopers.”

Malina moved in front of him, putting her hands on his face. “I know that you are aware of where everyone is inside the ship, and I know that can be... uncomfortable, but sometimes I wonder if they didn't damage you a little by making you as close to us and protective of us as you are.”

“Arguably, my current design is extremely flawed,” he said, taking down her hands. “The... guests are arriving.”

Malina turned back to face the docking bay. She didn't want to say Alik's paranoia was getting to her, but she would feel much better after their guests were gone. She slid her hand into his. “You are not flawed.”

“Oh?”

She laughed. “Well, no, you have your... quirks, but we love you anyway.”

He snorted, but the doors opened for them to greet their guests, and she knew that was another argument they would not be finishing later.

Survival sometimes meant subterfuge, concealing the truth behind layers of lies and false fronts, and while Vred accepted that, he did not care for this particular use of it. The ship was serviceable, though he would rather have a fleet, and while he knew he would fight for the ones he escorted, overwhelming numbers were to be preferred over the small task force he led. Brenton felt this a necessary step toward ending the blood feud tearing their pride apart and weakening it, reducing its strength while their enemies laughed at them. Vred did not completely disagree, though he felt the gambit weak.

His cousin Lisea was a favorite of the matriarch, but he doubted her ability to control the family in the way Sheffily did, and even if she married to ensure the peace, the likelihood of it lasting long enough for her to produce even one child to cement the bond was small.

Still, Vred lacked better alternatives and was tired of seeing his family kill each other over stupidity and politics.

He stepped forward, refusing to allow the ship's crew to see any kind of debate or weakness in him, though he would have expected more of a greeting than two members of that crew. The man carried the scent of something metal, and the woman...

The woman. Something about her bothered him, though he failed to see how she was a threat. Beautiful enough, he supposed, though why he would be reminded of his uncle's lectures on finding a mate when looking at a normal human was beyond him. She was not Nietzchean. She was inferior. The fact that most of the women on his side of this blood feud were closely related to him meant nothing. It would not encourage him to find some regular human to mate with.

“The Storm's Call welcomes you,” the woman said, smiling. “I'm Malina. This is my brother Alik. We'll be your hosts for the duration of your stay.”

“You are heavily armed for a class C ship,” Vred observed, thinking of the tech specifications he'd seen before agreeing to this trip.

“The ship contains parts salvaged from a wreck from the old Commonwealth,” she answered with a tighter smile than the one she'd had before. “It has been renamed and redesignated.”

Vred glanced toward the man. “It seems adequate.”

“I'd advise against insulting our home,” she told him. “We tend to take that very personally. Some of us more so than others.”

“Does she always do the talking for you?”

The other man smiled. “She does when I fail to find anything polite to say. We'll show you to your quarters. I'd suggest you make peace with them. They are all you will see for the duration of your stay. Violation of this means you will be removed by whatever means necessary and no refund will be given on your deposit.”

“Alik,” she hissed under her breath, but he ignored her. Vred could appreciate his paranoia, even if he found the rest of the situation intolerable.

“I need a quick and succinct rundown on politics within your pride,” Alik informed Felise as soon as she entered the command deck.

She stopped, frowning. “Why? You never cared before, not even when they were on this ship shooting at me.”

“Because I believe the Nietzchean passengers currently confined to their quarters on deck six are related to you, and in such case, I require information.”

She stared at the android, her reaction about the same as Enadar's. “Since when do we have Nietzchean passengers?”

“Since passenger transport has always been an acceptable and legitimate way of earning capital to spend in exchange for parts and other necessary items,” Alik informed her with his annoying logical voice. “There are alternatives, but we are supposedly more enlightened than them. Piracy is against the fundaments of my original Commonwealth programming, but I believe I could override that under the present circumstances. The Commonwealth's fall does put those things into a sort of... grey area no ship should operate from.”

“I don't think you were ever a normal High Guard ship,” Enadar said, grinning at his brother. Alik shrugged.

Felise sighed. “Is there a reason a smart ship like you failed to research the Nietzcheans before you let them book passage and board?”

“Negotiations were done with normal humans acting as their agents. I could assume them to be slaves acting for their masters if you wish.”

She shook her head, putting a hand on Enadar's arm before he did anything stupid. “Don't. Just... If they find out I'm here—it's going to be ugly either way. Half my family wants the other half dead.”

“Are these among the ones who wish you dead?” Alik asked, the screen showing two of her cousins, and she grimaced. They might not want her dead—Lisea certainly wouldn't, but then she was the dutiful type who was willing to accept the whole staying at home making babies thing that Felise didn't really feel like going back to.

“No, but it would still be a bad idea to let them know I'm here.”

“It's generally a bad idea to let anyone know you're here,” Enadar told her. “That's why you didn't get called up to greet them when they docked.”

“Neither did you.”

“Enough,” Alik said, sounding frustrated. “Go back to the repairs. We don't want anything to keep us from dropping them off as quickly as possible.”

“You're not in your quarters.”

“We are under attack,” Vred said. Was the captain of this vessel so stupid as to believe a Nietzchean would willingly allow himself to be confined for any part of his journey? He'd been waiting for the right opportunity to leave, and it presented itself with the first sign of battle.

“I am aware of that. I dislike being ambushed.”

Vred looked at the screen. They were surrounded by half of the pride's fleet, and not the friendly half. “You are outclassed and outmatched.”

“Feel free to take your homing beacon of a ship and leave.” The other man looked at him. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you gave them our location. I had never figured Nietzcheans for suicidal, but then I am frequently told the universe has more of a sense of humor than I do.”

Vred clenched a fist. “We swept the ship for transmitters before leaving. One of mine is a traitor.”

“Best guess—that one,” Alik said, and the screen showed Stefan moving through the halls toward a sensitive area of the ship. “I'm not inclined to let him sabotage anything, though, so...”

An energy surge erupted from a nearby access panel, arcing through Stefan at a level high enough to incapacitate a Nietzchean, leaving him on the ground twitching.

“Hmm. That should have been fatal.”

Vred frowned. “If you harm another member of my party—”

“You'll what? Rip me apart with your bare hands?” Alik asked, holding up a hand as the ship weaved through another wave of missiles. Some still impacted the hull, shaking them and almost knocking Vred over. “Now, as I was saying. You can either leave in your ship, which I am prepared to eject in a few minutes anyway as I hate being a target, or you can return to your quarters because as soon as I distract them with that thing I intend to leave.”

“You won't make it. That fleet will rip this ship apart before you reach slipstream, even if you manage to distract them for even a moment.”

“You Nietzcheans always underestimate transport ships,” Alik muttered. “That was your mistake during the war and it is your mistake now.”

Vred looked at him. “This ship wasn't scrounged from a Commonwealth wreck.”

“No.” Alik pressed a button on the console. “This is The Gates of Alexander to the Nietzchean fleet. Your battle tactics haven't improved in three hundred years. Stand down, or you will be destroyed.”

“They're ignoring you,” Malina said, hands white as she gripped her console. “Are you sure about this, Alik? It does seem more than a little crazy.”

“Yes, but I survived it before and can do it again,” Alik said. “Can't say the same for the Nietzcheans, though.”

“You're the ship's avatar,” Vred said, no longer fooled by the android's too realistic simulation of everything a Nietzchean would expect to hear from a human male.

“Yes.”

“And you're insane.”

“Also true. Unfortunately for you, your window for leaving the ship has ended,” Alik said. “You might want to hang onto something.”

Vred grit his teeth, glaring at the avatar. “You and I will talk again after this is over.”

“Assuming you survive, I have no doubt about that. As it is, though, the last time I did this, the crew was already dead so their survival was not an issue. Yours might be.”

From: (Anonymous)

"For the man determined to cook history's greatest omelet, you're awfully squeamish about cracking your eggs."

From: (Anonymous)

Trance/Harper. "I want to name one Pepper."

From: (Anonymous)

Harper: Love is just a bunch of exaggerating and lies, all dolled up in pseudo-poetic language (uttered preferably while intoxicated) and all for the singular universal purpose of… uh, you know.
Trance: Harper, you're a born romantic!
Harper: Sometimes there are flowers?

From: (Anonymous)

She wounds you as a rose will wound you --
Not with her thorn.
A rose will always wound you with her beauty.
- Harry Martinson, CY 6862

From: (Anonymous)

Spiral, spin, ride the whirlwind.
Knowing when the drumming stops,
There'll be no second dance.
- Ulatempa Poetess, "Rhythms"

Blink and it's gone
A moment, a breath
A Dance of the Mayflies
Just enough... For a lifetime.
- Ulatempa Poetess, "Rhythms", CY 9825

From: (Anonymous)

Not sure this stands alone, but I couldn't help thinking about Eshne and her fire dancing for these quotes. I went with an outside perspective, though.

The carnival was scheduled to leave in a matter of hours. All of it would be gone, packed away and moved to the next city, and it would be as though none of this existed. A quick flash in the pan, little heeded or seen, just a moment, an instant, and then nothing, not even a passing footnote or a memory for most everyone around him.

Not for Hugh. He couldn't forget it, couldn't ignore it. Fascination drove him forward, unable to let go of what he'd seen and what he'd felt, this conviction growing in him that was likely far from sane and yet so compelling, too compelling to ignore.

Just as she was.

She practiced her routine outdoors this time, in the quiet of the early morning, though it was no less artistic for its lack of dark background and atmospheric shadows. She wore no mask this time, and her dress was not the sensual number they'd made too much of at each of her performances, but one more modest and yet more dangerous as she wove in and out of the flame.

The fabric should have caught fire, should have been too easily dipped into the torches surrounding her, but she spun through them without a single singe. Her grace was unlike anything he had ever known, but it was not just about her surpassing debutantes in her ability to move fluidly, making each step art.

She called the flames, danced with the fire, and though she did so without music, she never lost rhythm, never faltered in her step. He liked it better here, though, for she did not make it a twisted parody of a lover's embrace, but as one where the flame could never catch her, never hold her.

Someone clapped, and Hugh frowned down at his hands, relieved and yet puzzled by how it wasn't him who had done it.

“Pretty! Pretty!” A young boy cried, climbing on the stage with her. The flames died in an instant even as she pulled him close to her.

“Egann, what are you doing? You know better. You could have been burned.”

“Not with Eshne. Always safe with Eshne,” the boy insisted, and she winced as she wrapped her arms around him.

“You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“Phemie snores.”

The dancer laughed, even as she lowered her head and fought frustration. “You know better than to leave Phemie. You should never wander off on your own. Your father would never forgive me if something happened to you. Now sit still while I clean up my things.”

Hugh frowned. He knew that her show had been just that—a show—a carefully conceived piece of art that concealed her ability to bend fire to her will. Still, it had misled him. He had not believed her some woman of easy virtue, but he must have been fooling himself to think that the pull he felt toward her and her flames was real. He was insane, he knew that, had known it since he started loving fire as much as he did, but he had not realized how far he had fallen. To believe he had a connection to her, some stranger—he must have been a fool.

Or completely insane.

He had seen one more dance, and that was all he could hope for, more than he deserved.

From:

scribblemyname

I love it. Though the comment about her easy virtue came out of left field, and I couldn't tell what caused it.

The wonderful? muse of scribblemyname...

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