lavender and pastel green

an evening respite. that's the thesis. a place to be creative, recreationally. starting on the 10th of february, 2025, #DAMMERVNG is where i (miah) will come to share my narrative pursuits. these pursuits? solo narrative writing and roleplay. i write both in original settings and in the worlds of DC/MARVEL, WUTHERING WAVES, FIRE EMBLEM, and ARCANE. ( ... among many others.) rp-specific info beneath the cut.

A cave opens up to the amber evening light above it. The stone ceiling has been torn apart by an unorthodox creature; a flying 'serpent' composed of mechanical pieces floating around a series of glowing orbs. As the rocks above fall toward the rocks below, a lanky figure wrapped in black and white stands watch over the scene. The collapse of the cave stops just short of where it stands, prompting a nonchalant backpedal.

So … they've got it activated. Good for them, if they're the sort of people who don't like living. No judgement.

The figure's gaze shifts quickly as a guttural shout escapes the mouth of the cave. A large man in a red coat unloads a rifle into one of the serpent's hovering arms as sharp mechanical claws approach him. The figure watching over the scene steps forward, leaning down, and launches into the cave. Their trajectory carries them from one falling boulder to the next, their form blurring as they pick up speed. The red-coated man hardly has time to look up before the claw threatening him is knocked off its course with a streak of pale green light. 

When the bright burst subsides, the centre of his vision is taken up by his savior, brandishing a broadblade in one hand and a small device in the other. The device seems to be the source of a second, green blade — the source of that pale green light — which the interloper crosses with the broadblade behind their back as they shoot a judgemental glance over their shoulder.

Through short, black-and-green hair locked tightly into thick strands, the interloper's straight face pulls up into a smirk. "You Fractsidus don't ask many questions before you act," they quip, "Do you?"

introduction to PTOLEMY — ❝ CAN'T PUNK ME ❞

The strange interloper dispels the glowing blade on the end of their slim device and tucks it into a sleeve on the back of their corset-like top, then turns back to the Fractsidus operative in earnest. "Call me Ptolemy," comes their nonchalant introduction. They lean forward, and the place where their boots meet the ground seems to distort, reduced to noise and nonsense for an instant. By the end of that instant, they've snapped across the distance separating them from the Fractsidus member, driving their knee into his stomach. "We'll talk more in a bit," they inform the man as he doubles over, falling to the ground. "So stay put."

Satisfied, Ptolemy turns back around and marches, heels clicking, back toward the rampaging mechanoid. Definitely Savant tech, they surmise as they visually appraise the materials and structure of the beast. Those cores are picking up pieces of this ruin and arranging them into this form … must be the effect of reverberations from nearby. If these idiots had been patient enough to let me find out more about the area …

But there isn't time to complain. The serpent drags its barely cohesive body across the cave walls again, collecting rocks and dust from it to fling at Ptolemy. They pull their broadblade back out of thin air, swiping it upward to cleave a boulder in half, then spinning to cut another horizontally. As a third, comparatively small rock races toward them, Ptolemy pulls the small device from their shirt again, and a much shorter dagger blade with an elaborate basket-hilt springs from within it. They thrust the dagger forward at the boulder with a focused grimace.

Small surface area, precise placement of energy …

The stone bursts apart on contact with the end of Ptolemy's dagger, more violently and thoroughly pulverised than either of the two they'd split apart before.

Means more force applied, and …

The device in their hand, a black rod with a slight extension at its front-end, chimes curtly and closes its extended part away. Ptolemy's translucent dagger wobbles out of existence shortly after, and its unruly vibration seems to travel up their arm, causing its form to dissolve into a hazy mess for just a moment.

… More Distortion accumulated. The Waveshaper's doing well today.

The serpent descends on Ptolemy, stretching out long claws of conglomerated metal to swipe at them. They put the Waveshaper away again, drawing their broadblade in both hands and raising it above their head in preparation, but the action of swinging it downward seems not to happen — only Ptolemy's blade hitting the ground, their arms fluctuating in visibility, and the floating serpent's claws being sliced clean away from its floating "hand." The pieces fall away and return to featureless rubble, prompting Ptolemy to look back at the serpent. They have its attention, now, for better or worse.

With the Fractsidus presumably in possession of all relevant documentation on whatever it is that this CSC ruin was housing, Ptolemy has no choice but to plan on the fly. It's good news, at least, that they can cleave the material of this odd mechanoid apart, but that leaves the question of its central orbs. Those might be volatile. If I go about disabling them the wrong way, it'll be messy.

Even damaging the flying serpent's main weapons only buys Ptolemy a brief respite, though. A loud thrumming signals its intent to attack again, and Ptolemy spins their sword in the air, gripping it backhand by the ricasso. Their free hand snaps to the back of their waist again, and tension grows both in their fingers and their jaw. 

The mechanoid descends in a spiraling line, narrowing its head and opening its snakelike jaws to strike at its squirrely prey. Ptolemy leaps backward, then again to one side to dodge the attack. As the serpent redoubles for its next attack, Ptolemy draws the Waveshaper from their waist to make a parrying dagger. I can play dirty, too. 

The force of the serpent's attack pushes them into the air, but they inhale slowly as they tumble, focusing on the location of one of those orbs within the odd conglomerate of recombined metal and circuitry. As soon as they land, the toes of their boots blur into visual noise, and they launch skyward again. This time, their trajectory is carefully controlled, sending them boot-first through the middle of the serpent's body. As their force dislodges one of the orbs, an entire section of the mechanoid falls to dust and scrap, confirming Ptolemy's suspicion. If it's a device with this much range and precise control, knowing the CSC, it's efficient. Whatever power source they're using should be mild enough to keep the stuff it's manipulating safe. Which means …

Ptolemy rides the orb all the way to the ground, smashing it into the jagged ruins. As soon as they hop off it, the force of the remaining orbs begins pulling it out of the rubble, back toward the body of the serpent, but a broadblade skewers it in place before it can get free. The Waveshaper in Ptolemy's other hand springs forth a long, green pole from either end of its slim body, and one of the ends gains a wide blade extending perpendicular to its length; that blade carves the levitator orb in half several times with a few twirls of Ptolemy's body and deft flexing of their fingers. 

Satisfied, Ptolemy turns back toward the serpent. It appears to have regained its composure — whatever that corresponds to for a creature of its unique composition — and brought what remains of its body together into a shorter, more streamlined version of itself. A faster version of itself.

Faster is right. As soon as its body shape settles, the flying serpent launches itself at Ptolemy with redoubled force and increased accuracy. Ptolemy quickens their hand and arm just to have their parrying dagger out in time. A deft combination of their forte, parrying skill, and the serpent's force is enough to launch themself over top of the charging mechanoid, but they can see it readying another attack before they even hit the ground. I've got enough Distortion saved. I should end this if I want to keep the ruins standing.

The serpent charges again, but this time, Ptolemy stands tall and still. Their entire body blurs, losing definition as the attacker closes in, and when its body meets theirs, it … passes straight through. Ptolemy's body fizzles out of existence, offering no opposition to its force.

A fraction of a second later, as the serpent begins to process what's occurred, the orb at its tail end is sliced clean through its middle. The orb appears to lose focus, visually distorting — then, the two halves fly apart with an uncanny amount of force, taking with them a large fraction of the remaining mass comprising the serpent's body. 

Ptolemy stands among the wreckage, looking as if several years had passed between their disappearance and return. Their face, though similar in age, seems thinner, and their shirt now hangs loosely over their corset-vest, swaying lazily with their movement. Their pants, pearly-white a few moments ago, have grayed noticeably, and have been pulled out over the tops of their boots. Their expression is a bit more grave, as well.

The serpent, down to two of its constituent orbs, lets out a robotic shriek and descends on Ptolemy, rearing its claws back. When it strikes at them, its claws fly apart, rent asunder by their broadblade and a shorter, green companion blade. Emboldened, or perhaps desperate, the serpent circles back around with its jaws poised to strike once more. Alright. Go on.

Air whistles and machinery hums as the serpent turns to one side and flies a wide arc around Ptolemy, hoping to close in quickly from a blind spot. Ptolemy leaves themself open, seemingly; they squeeze their eyes shut and listen as the wind whips violently toward them.

Now.

The air stops cold, ceasing all movement. The ground shatters in a several-yard radius, rising upward. Time seems to slow to a crawl for the flying serpent, reduced from blinding speed to near motionlessness, inches away from the haggard figure that was supposed to have fallen victim to its last-ditch effort.

Ptolemy's hair, now long and pale, lags behind their head as they turn to face the serpent, eyes accented by deep bags. Their gaunt face moves slowly, and their skin cracks at each point of stress to reveal a mass of pale green light beneath it. They exhale a breath and reach up to their shoulder, grabbing hold of a long, black labcoat that seems to melt into existence at Ptolemy's silent request.

"Distortion analysed," they mutter, twirling the Waveshaper in their free hand. They take a few steps past the serpent's head, looking pointedly at the two remaining orbs that comprise its being, and resummon the staff-weapon that they'd made earlier. Its sudden appearance causes Ptolemy's hair and the coat on their shoulders to billow outward and upward in slow motion.

They rear back, holding the odd-looking scythe in both hands, and shed a tear involuntarily.

Their teardrop rolls off their cheek, almost hits the ground; just above their foot, though, it stops in place, floating aimlessly. 

"Reduce to the Fundamental," Ptolemy breathes, and their teardrop reverses its fall, racing back up to meet their eye as they cut the entire flying serpent through the middle in a single stroke.

A beat passes. The entirety of the serpent's body is smashed into the ground, finally rendered inert, and Ptolemy takes a deep breath. They walk slowly across the quieted ruins toward the alcove where they'd left their poor Fractsidus damsel. Each step they take restores the stability of their body; by the time they return to the shivering Fractsidus agent, they look identical to the way they did when the two had become acquainted earlier.

name: miah (like my - uh) pronouns: they/she (it/its too if youre cool) preference of communication: very flexible, but discord is where i'm most active. name of muse(s): i've got a few. platforms you’ve used: i actually haven't used many. i rped for YEARS on google+ (iykyk), then on and off through tumblr and discord … rest is history. best experience: MM tough question. i'd have to say my best long-term experience was about 2 years (2017-19) i spent worldbuilding and rping with 2-5 (the group size fluctuated) friends of mine for a fantasy universe. it was REALLY engaging to make both the characters and the world they inhabited … rp pet peeves / dealbreakers: poor communication!!! there's actually not much that turns me off in rp so long as it's not just sprung onto me. i think all that will really make me dislike a partner are things assumed or things left unsaid. fluff, angst, or smut: not to cop-out, but it really depends. writing fluff makes angst better. writing angst makes smut better. writing fluffy smut makes the smutty angst fluff its smut into smuffngststmfsuvfnk [END OF TRANSMISSION.] plots or memes: oh i LOVE to plot. i love establishing themes and finding intersections in stories. i love bashing motives together and creating weird-ass esoteric images based on groups of characters and their complex relationships. i'm definitely not AGAINST memes, though!!!! they make great icebreakers, not to mention just providing material to flesh out dynamics with … best time to write: usually in the evening, after work and such — though sometimes i use my notes app to work on responses during random lulls in my day. are you like your muse(s)?: i dunno. probably. let's write together, and then let me know what YOU think. ;)