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It's an ordinary afternoon in the Koskin household. Solvei is nestled amid the remains of a demolished blanket fort; her sisters are a few feet away on the other side of a ruined pillow-wall, sharing a book.
"Hey," she says suddenly. "Let's be magical girls."
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is-the-light
who-are-dreams
Ravni says the words with all Solvei's feelings and then some. She isn't sure what she wants to be when she grows up, personally, but she knows who she wants to be it with: Solvei and Eithrun, her sisters, the only people in the world with whom she feels a complete mutual understanding. And if Solvei's going to be a magical girl, then Ravni will be one too. She will accept no less.
less-into-heaven
Eithrun says the worlds with intent and determination. She is not crucial to this endeavour; like anything else Solvei and Ravni do, they could pull it off just fine without her. But they shouldn't have to. If Solvei wanted to climb Mount Olympus to steal fire from the Greek pantheon, Eithrun would stand lookout. Wherever she can, however she can, as much as she can, she will give her sisters her full support. So she had better become a magical girl right along with them, and if she doesn't she is going to be pissed.
It's not instantaneous. It doesn't happen as soon as the last word falls from their lips. But it doesn't take that long, either.
To begin with, it's less like something is happening, and more like opening her eyes.
To begin with, it is immediately obvious that something out of the ordinary is happening.
To begin with, it's less like something is happening, and more like looking away and finding something inexplicably different when she looks back.
The walls of the room are replaced by the dome of the sky. It's night, but somehow with dawn encroaching from the east and dusk fading in the west.
The sun is just visible over the horizon, and its rays carry notes of hope, of strength, of nothing-is-impossible, of never-despair.
The sky is spangled with stars clearer than any visible from a city, and their light somehow sings of knowing, of seeking-and-finding, of being-without-limits. Their twinkling spells out some kind of intricate, mischievous cipher, and when they are not visible, none can detect them, no matter how hard they look. You cannot restrict them. You cannot control them. They are the stars.
The moon is just barely visible over the horizon, and it waxes and wanes by the seconds, although somehow its motion is never visible, but if you look away for a second it's something different when you look back. Change, you can't help but think when you look at it straight on. Adaptablity. Despite this, its beams sing of loyalty-and-solidarity.
The skyscape fades out, and though each sister's presence is still entirely perceptible by the other two, they see different scenes.
She sees herself, speaking to some kind of robed figure. He is visibly unimpressed, but grabs her by the wrist and imprisons her in exactly the place she needs to be in order to bring him down completely.
She sees someone about to fire some kind of energy blast at her sister (he doesn't have a physical blaster, but his stance, his expression; it's obvious). And then he is not, because there is a glass knife in the back of his neck, which fizzles out with the lack of ontological inertia magically-generated weapons exhibit.
She sees her sister, words failing her/stealth failing her, fighting, a superior opponent, inches from defeat, and a surge of warmth and magic and then he is on his knees, and then he is not.
She sees a man who might have wrecked a city, stripped of his power and neatly tied up for the authorities.
She sees a threat to her sisters cease to be one. And another, and another, and any who would be.
She sees possible defeat turned into certain victory, and certain victory turned into overwhelming domination.
A shared scene, then: three strands of yarn, none fragile by itself, twisting together into something far stronger than the sum of its parts. A spark of (magic) touches the twist, and it writhes, splitting and braiding itself into an intricate unbreakable rope.
The skyscape is back then. Nobility, whispers a nonvoice, in concepts rather than words. Love. Loyalty.
And then, differently, Magic.
They can have it. They can definitely have it. They just have to reach out--like (this) and take it.
To begin with, it's less like something is happening, and more like opening her eyes.
To begin with, it is immediately obvious that something out of the ordinary is happening.
To begin with, it's less like something is happening, and more like looking away and finding something inexplicably different when she looks back.
The walls of the room are replaced by the dome of the sky. It's night, but somehow with dawn encroaching from the east and dusk fading in the west.
The sun is just visible over the horizon, and its rays carry notes of hope, of strength, of nothing-is-impossible, of never-despair.
The sky is spangled with stars clearer than any visible from a city, and their light somehow sings of knowing, of seeking-and-finding, of being-without-limits. Their twinkling spells out some kind of intricate, mischievous cipher, and when they are not visible, none can detect them, no matter how hard they look. You cannot restrict them. You cannot control them. They are the stars.
The moon is just barely visible over the horizon, and it waxes and wanes by the seconds, although somehow its motion is never visible, but if you look away for a second it's something different when you look back. Change, you can't help but think when you look at it straight on. Adaptablity. Despite this, its beams sing of loyalty-and-solidarity.
The skyscape fades out, and though each sister's presence is still entirely perceptible by the other two, they see different scenes.
She sees herself, speaking to some kind of robed figure. He is visibly unimpressed, but grabs her by the wrist and imprisons her in exactly the place she needs to be in order to bring him down completely.
She sees someone about to fire some kind of energy blast at her sister (he doesn't have a physical blaster, but his stance, his expression; it's obvious). And then he is not, because there is a glass knife in the back of his neck, which fizzles out with the lack of ontological inertia magically-generated weapons exhibit.
She sees her sister, words failing her/stealth failing her, fighting, a superior opponent, inches from defeat, and a surge of warmth and magic and then he is on his knees, and then he is not.
She sees a man who might have wrecked a city, stripped of his power and neatly tied up for the authorities.
She sees a threat to her sisters cease to be one. And another, and another, and any who would be.
She sees possible defeat turned into certain victory, and certain victory turned into overwhelming domination.
A shared scene, then: three strands of yarn, none fragile by itself, twisting together into something far stronger than the sum of its parts. A spark of (magic) touches the twist, and it writhes, splitting and braiding itself into an intricate unbreakable rope.
The skyscape is back then. Nobility, whispers a nonvoice, in concepts rather than words. Love. Loyalty.
And then, differently, Magic.
They can have it. They can definitely have it. They just have to reach out--like (this) and take it.
Their bodies course with magicmagicmagic, flowing into and through them like they are empty vessels that will never be empty enough to hold the raw potential at their fingertips, and they will do it anyway. Each is acutely aware of her sister's--position, stance, even the magic that now flows through them. Words bubble to their lips--they could resist, but why would they, when they have come this far already?
is-the-light
It's the most perfect thing imaginable.
They move and speak in flawless unison, standing straight with hands folded solemnly over hearts, reciting words that begin like their modified oath—
"I take as my charge this planet and its people, and I swear none shall go hungry that my hand can feed, and none shall be killed that my hand can protect." They glow; they levitate; they lift their heads as though looking through the wall and on up to the sky. "For life, for hope, for the will to do the impossible, I am the Golden Thane of Dawn's Blazing Fire, and I am here to help."
As they settle back onto the floor and the glow fades, Solvei's outfit is revealed as a pale golden tunic over pale blue leggings, with long pale blue gloves, all united by silver detailing, a silver belt at her waist, and a pair of silver riding boots. A palm-sized sunburst emblem blazes on the front of the tunic, just below the high collar.
They move and speak in flawless unison, standing straight with hands folded solemnly over hearts, reciting words that begin like their modified oath—
"I take as my charge this planet and its people, and I swear none shall go hungry that my hand can feed, and none shall be killed that my hand can protect." They glow; they levitate; they lift their heads as though looking through the wall and on up to the sky. "For life, for hope, for the will to do the impossible, I am the Golden Thane of Dawn's Blazing Fire, and I am here to help."
As they settle back onto the floor and the glow fades, Solvei's outfit is revealed as a pale golden tunic over pale blue leggings, with long pale blue gloves, all united by silver detailing, a silver belt at her waist, and a pair of silver riding boots. A palm-sized sunburst emblem blazes on the front of the tunic, just below the high collar.
who-are-dreams
"For truth, for freedom, for the last light in the darkness, I am the Shadowed Thane of Night’s Distant Stars, and I am here to help."
Ravni's tunic is black, her gloves and leggings midnight blue, her boots and belt and trim a darker grey. At her throat gleam three white stars. The subtle details of her outfit are a little sleeker than Solvei's, lines a little sharper, less medieval and more science-fiction.
Ravni's tunic is black, her gloves and leggings midnight blue, her boots and belt and trim a darker grey. At her throat gleam three white stars. The subtle details of her outfit are a little sleeker than Solvei's, lines a little sharper, less medieval and more science-fiction.
less-into-heaven
"For peace, for friendship, for the voices that go unheard, I am the Silver Thane of Dusk’s Changing Moon, and I am here to help."
Eithrun's tunic is silver-grey, her gloves and leggings medium blue, her boots and belt and trim silver-white. Her emblem is a shimmering moon whose phase seems to shift when viewed from different angles, from new all the way to full.
Eithrun's tunic is silver-grey, her gloves and leggings medium blue, her boots and belt and trim silver-white. Her emblem is a shimmering moon whose phase seems to shift when viewed from different angles, from new all the way to full.
is-the-light
Their transformations complete, the sisters look at each other. Then, simultaneously, they burst out laughing and dive into a group hug that carries them back onto the pillow-ruin in a giggling heap.
less-into-heaven
"How come you guys get the cool oaths and I'm the goddamn Lorax?" complains Eithrun between giggles.
is-the-light
"Don't knock the Lorax. The Lorax knows what's up," laughs Solvei.
who-are-dreams
"And hey, magic," Ravni observes. "Light of True Seeing."
She begins to glow faintly white.
She begins to glow faintly white.
is-the-light
"...magic!" agrees Solvei. "What's mine—? Light of the Blazing Dawn."
A strong golden glow surrounds her, radiating a message not unlike the dawn's rays in their vision. It advertises a personal commitment to helping, to improving, to supporting people in achieving or surpassing their goals; it advertises her nature as the sort of person who will go over, under, around, or through any obstacle in her path; and it invites the viewer to partake of her messianic radiance and become just a little bit better at whatever skills and faculties they value. Faster, stronger, smarter, more creative—anything and everything.
A strong golden glow surrounds her, radiating a message not unlike the dawn's rays in their vision. It advertises a personal commitment to helping, to improving, to supporting people in achieving or surpassing their goals; it advertises her nature as the sort of person who will go over, under, around, or through any obstacle in her path; and it invites the viewer to partake of her messianic radiance and become just a little bit better at whatever skills and faculties they value. Faster, stronger, smarter, more creative—anything and everything.
less-into-heaven
"Nice," says Eithrun. "Okay, my turn - Light of the Gentle Moon?"
Her silver glow is stronger than Ravni's but subtler than Solvei's. And—
"Holy shit you guys I got a healing aura," she crows.
Her silver glow is stronger than Ravni's but subtler than Solvei's. And—
"Holy shit you guys I got a healing aura," she crows.
who-are-dreams
"We're pretty great," Ravni agrees. "So, do we tell our parents, or...?"
is-the-light
"Of course we tell our parents," says Solvei. "No power on Earth could stop me from bragging about this grand success."
who-are-dreams
Ravni laughs.
They tell their parents. Their parents are proud and amused in equal measure, along with a dash of worry and a pinch of what-will-our-little-disasters-think-up-next. Papa gently requests that the girls let him know before they attempt to go adventuring; the girls graciously assent.
Solvei and Eithrun's aura spells are so pleasant and useful that they both take to just staying transformed all the time, and Ravni follows suit even though her spell's applications are much less universal. The Light of True Seeing detects lies and pierces illusions, but Ravni was already pretty good at that sort of thing. Still, she doesn't mind being last place in spell usefulness. They'll get more in time, she's sure.
They tell their parents. Their parents are proud and amused in equal measure, along with a dash of worry and a pinch of what-will-our-little-disasters-think-up-next. Papa gently requests that the girls let him know before they attempt to go adventuring; the girls graciously assent.
Solvei and Eithrun's aura spells are so pleasant and useful that they both take to just staying transformed all the time, and Ravni follows suit even though her spell's applications are much less universal. The Light of True Seeing detects lies and pierces illusions, but Ravni was already pretty good at that sort of thing. Still, she doesn't mind being last place in spell usefulness. They'll get more in time, she's sure.
Here Ends This Thread