Unintended Consequences: Prologue
Jul. 26th, 2005 04:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: Unintended Consequences: Prologue
Rating: PG
Pairing: Eventual SanZo, maybe others
Word Count: 1485
Strange forces were at work the day Gol D. Roger died. The greatest pirate the world had ever seen knelt on the execution platform, blades at his throat, and grinned toothily at the shouted question from the gathered, bloodthirsty crowd.
“My treasure? You want to know where I left it? It’s out there, waiting. The One Piece is free to whomever is able to claim it.”
A cheer went up from the crowd; a roaring wall of sound as people turned to each other, vowed that they would be the one to get the biggest treasure in all the Blues. Only a few actually saw what happened as that swell of noise echoed off the buildings and carried far out beyond the horizon. Gol D. Roger, more commonly known as the Pirate King Gold Roger, died with a smile on his face and two long pieces of steel through his body. One young boy with curiously gray hair watched as the blood pooled under the now inert form and dripped slowly from the platform. He shivered, suddenly chilled among the heated voices and bodies of the crowd, as an unnatural wind wove its way from Gold Roger’s body and headed out to sea. The lad was sensitive enough to feel it, a fact noted by the invisible bunch of watchers perched on all the rooftops surrounding the square. But he didn’t have eyes to see or he would have noticed the strange yellow-green glow that accompanied the odd breeze. He would have seen the other crowds. Perhaps it was just as well, for if he had and had bothered to tell anyone, surely the poor boy would have been thrown into a mental institution and would no longer have a part in this story.
“And that’s the end of an era.” The speaker was smug, loud, a little bit on the heavy side. He sat gingerly on the edge of one chimney, long white tunic bunched in his hands as if to keep it from trailing into the soot and ash that coated the roof. A stupid move, for his own rear already bore a half circle of black from his choice of seat. Later on, two mischievous cherubs would decide to add two more dots slightly higher up. He would bear the unfortunate title of “Mr. Smiley Bottom” for the next several months.
“You think so, Stuphoreal? I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Cossetrion, in contrast to most of the rest of the invisible being occupying the roof, was not wearing white. Her tunic was tie-dyed in blue and purple and she had recently dyed her usually white-blond hair and wings to match. The effect was a tad unsettling and caused rather a lot of muttering in heaven, but Cossetrion was nothing if not competent and possessed a rather biting tongue as well, so the muttering tended to confine itself to the corners of choir halls and the chow line.
“And what makes you say that? Perhaps your purple locks obscured your vision. Gol D. Roger is dead. This age of chaotic sea faring is over.” Stuphoreal arched one caterpillar brow as he sneered at the female angel. He’d never been in favor of God changing his mind and granting them all a choice of sex. And he’d never understand what had driven those few who had done it to choose to become female. His dissatisfaction was only increased by the fact that those angels had somehow taken over as managers and had found God’s favor.
“Actually, Stuffy,” and Cossetrion held back a grin as she watched Stuphoreal glare at the hated nickname, “I was wondering if it was you whose eyesight was failing. Didn’t you see the winds of destiny leave the body? They headed out to sea, and from the speed they were traveling, I’d say there is a definite destination in mind. And just look at the humans down there. I’d say the age of pirates is just beginning.”
“Hmmph. Humans. They’ll lose interest as soon as they realize it’s nearly impossible to get to the One Piece. We had Gold Roger leave it in the perfect spot. This is just a passing fad. In a year or two, five tops, there will be no more talk of pirates or the Grand Line or any of the other lawlessness that has marked these past two decades.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You always put too much stock in humans, Cossetrion. Fickle they may be, but they are also creatures of habit. The unpredictability of the Grand Line will soon put a stop to all this nonsense. We’ve seen an end to it for the time being.”
“Then why,” and Cossetrion’s voice was quite serious as she gestured with one glowing bare arm to the opposite rooftop, “are they so happy?”
On another rooftop, more invisible being, most also with wings, were celebrating. High fives were exchanged, cigars were passed out, and general jocularity seemed to be the mood. Only two or three of the creatures were holding back, looking out in the direction taken by the unnatural wind.
“I don’t like it. For the winds of destiny to leave that fast, there’s a definite purpose behind it. And that smacks of a plan.” The speaker was undoubtedly female, the tight black leather top she was wearing more than enhancing certain feminine attributes that jiggled with every shift of her body. She was quite lovely if one overlooked the fact that she had two sets of eyes and a pair of coral-like horns jutting out from the sides of her head.
“Mmm, and plans are the last things we want on this plane.” The deep voice issued forth from something that looked like a cross between a cactus and a chicken, a strange mixture that formed a pincushion that happened to squawk and lay green eggs filled with fetid water.
“This stinks of order. Look at them over there. They don’t seem to be upset about the chaos we’ve unleashed.” The last speaker was a traditional demon, red-skinned, horned, with pointy teeth and tail, goat’s legs and large black bat wings. His name was Dastin and he was the nominal leader of the forces of hell gathered on the roof.
And now it’s important to take a quick break from the story to point out that hell really wasn’t really as bad as the angels gathered on the other rooftop believed. It just wasn’t nearly as organized as heaven or even earth. Hell didn’t stand for evil really, any more than heaven stood for good exactly. It was more the forces of chaos versus the forces of order, with chaos being more inclined towards evil because of its possibilities and order siding with good for the same reasons. The two sides had given up the strict good/evil dichotomy years ago when they realized that human beings would never be one or the other, but always a mixture of both. So hell had gotten into the business of spreading chaos, enjoying the disorder and panic and completely random things that came from disorganization. And heaven had taken up the side of order. Bureaucracy came naturally to many angels, and spreading order ensured safety and restraint and calm. Of course, on both sides there were some who were frustrated with the system, but as God and the Devil both had refrained from commenting one way or another regarding the change, the system endured. Earth was the battleground now; each side confronting the other using humans as pawns and supernatural forces beyond their own abilities as the tools for helping to shape the conflict. And now back to the story.
Dastin’s tail lashed behind him as he watched one very unusual angel gesture in their direction. “I don’t like it. If that female is involved, you can bet that heaven has something planned. We’d best find out what it is and put a stop to it.”
The youth with gray hair shuddered again and looked skyward in confusion. He couldn’t see it, but the groups of angels and demons on each roof had just blinked out of existence, vanishing as the crowd around him also began to thin. Poor lad. Pity him, dear readers, for his life had been touched by the wind of destiny and would no longer head down the path of cobbler his dear mother intended for him. As for the wind of destiny, it traveled across all the oceans of the world, slowing down from time to time to caress a cheek or whisper in an ear or ruffle fur. It had its own agenda, completely divorced from the schemes of heaven and hell, and nothing could stand in its way. And Gol D. Roger? The pirate king went to his grave with that smile frozen on his face and the knowledge that his life and his death had changed the world.
A/N: Well, this is obviously inspired by Good Omens, but I'm going to try and take the story in my own direction. The tone of Good Omens and a few of the plot points are what I'm most trying to incorporate. I don't know how much progress I'll make on this. It'll probably be slow going, but I'm going to try. Hope it doesn't suck too much right off the bat.
Edit: BAH! Just as a warning to all and sundry (those few of you out there) who may read this, I already don't like it much. So, if it sucks, please feel free to pick it apart and tell me everything you don't like.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Eventual SanZo, maybe others
Word Count: 1485
Strange forces were at work the day Gol D. Roger died. The greatest pirate the world had ever seen knelt on the execution platform, blades at his throat, and grinned toothily at the shouted question from the gathered, bloodthirsty crowd.
“My treasure? You want to know where I left it? It’s out there, waiting. The One Piece is free to whomever is able to claim it.”
A cheer went up from the crowd; a roaring wall of sound as people turned to each other, vowed that they would be the one to get the biggest treasure in all the Blues. Only a few actually saw what happened as that swell of noise echoed off the buildings and carried far out beyond the horizon. Gol D. Roger, more commonly known as the Pirate King Gold Roger, died with a smile on his face and two long pieces of steel through his body. One young boy with curiously gray hair watched as the blood pooled under the now inert form and dripped slowly from the platform. He shivered, suddenly chilled among the heated voices and bodies of the crowd, as an unnatural wind wove its way from Gold Roger’s body and headed out to sea. The lad was sensitive enough to feel it, a fact noted by the invisible bunch of watchers perched on all the rooftops surrounding the square. But he didn’t have eyes to see or he would have noticed the strange yellow-green glow that accompanied the odd breeze. He would have seen the other crowds. Perhaps it was just as well, for if he had and had bothered to tell anyone, surely the poor boy would have been thrown into a mental institution and would no longer have a part in this story.
“And that’s the end of an era.” The speaker was smug, loud, a little bit on the heavy side. He sat gingerly on the edge of one chimney, long white tunic bunched in his hands as if to keep it from trailing into the soot and ash that coated the roof. A stupid move, for his own rear already bore a half circle of black from his choice of seat. Later on, two mischievous cherubs would decide to add two more dots slightly higher up. He would bear the unfortunate title of “Mr. Smiley Bottom” for the next several months.
“You think so, Stuphoreal? I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Cossetrion, in contrast to most of the rest of the invisible being occupying the roof, was not wearing white. Her tunic was tie-dyed in blue and purple and she had recently dyed her usually white-blond hair and wings to match. The effect was a tad unsettling and caused rather a lot of muttering in heaven, but Cossetrion was nothing if not competent and possessed a rather biting tongue as well, so the muttering tended to confine itself to the corners of choir halls and the chow line.
“And what makes you say that? Perhaps your purple locks obscured your vision. Gol D. Roger is dead. This age of chaotic sea faring is over.” Stuphoreal arched one caterpillar brow as he sneered at the female angel. He’d never been in favor of God changing his mind and granting them all a choice of sex. And he’d never understand what had driven those few who had done it to choose to become female. His dissatisfaction was only increased by the fact that those angels had somehow taken over as managers and had found God’s favor.
“Actually, Stuffy,” and Cossetrion held back a grin as she watched Stuphoreal glare at the hated nickname, “I was wondering if it was you whose eyesight was failing. Didn’t you see the winds of destiny leave the body? They headed out to sea, and from the speed they were traveling, I’d say there is a definite destination in mind. And just look at the humans down there. I’d say the age of pirates is just beginning.”
“Hmmph. Humans. They’ll lose interest as soon as they realize it’s nearly impossible to get to the One Piece. We had Gold Roger leave it in the perfect spot. This is just a passing fad. In a year or two, five tops, there will be no more talk of pirates or the Grand Line or any of the other lawlessness that has marked these past two decades.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You always put too much stock in humans, Cossetrion. Fickle they may be, but they are also creatures of habit. The unpredictability of the Grand Line will soon put a stop to all this nonsense. We’ve seen an end to it for the time being.”
“Then why,” and Cossetrion’s voice was quite serious as she gestured with one glowing bare arm to the opposite rooftop, “are they so happy?”
On another rooftop, more invisible being, most also with wings, were celebrating. High fives were exchanged, cigars were passed out, and general jocularity seemed to be the mood. Only two or three of the creatures were holding back, looking out in the direction taken by the unnatural wind.
“I don’t like it. For the winds of destiny to leave that fast, there’s a definite purpose behind it. And that smacks of a plan.” The speaker was undoubtedly female, the tight black leather top she was wearing more than enhancing certain feminine attributes that jiggled with every shift of her body. She was quite lovely if one overlooked the fact that she had two sets of eyes and a pair of coral-like horns jutting out from the sides of her head.
“Mmm, and plans are the last things we want on this plane.” The deep voice issued forth from something that looked like a cross between a cactus and a chicken, a strange mixture that formed a pincushion that happened to squawk and lay green eggs filled with fetid water.
“This stinks of order. Look at them over there. They don’t seem to be upset about the chaos we’ve unleashed.” The last speaker was a traditional demon, red-skinned, horned, with pointy teeth and tail, goat’s legs and large black bat wings. His name was Dastin and he was the nominal leader of the forces of hell gathered on the roof.
And now it’s important to take a quick break from the story to point out that hell really wasn’t really as bad as the angels gathered on the other rooftop believed. It just wasn’t nearly as organized as heaven or even earth. Hell didn’t stand for evil really, any more than heaven stood for good exactly. It was more the forces of chaos versus the forces of order, with chaos being more inclined towards evil because of its possibilities and order siding with good for the same reasons. The two sides had given up the strict good/evil dichotomy years ago when they realized that human beings would never be one or the other, but always a mixture of both. So hell had gotten into the business of spreading chaos, enjoying the disorder and panic and completely random things that came from disorganization. And heaven had taken up the side of order. Bureaucracy came naturally to many angels, and spreading order ensured safety and restraint and calm. Of course, on both sides there were some who were frustrated with the system, but as God and the Devil both had refrained from commenting one way or another regarding the change, the system endured. Earth was the battleground now; each side confronting the other using humans as pawns and supernatural forces beyond their own abilities as the tools for helping to shape the conflict. And now back to the story.
Dastin’s tail lashed behind him as he watched one very unusual angel gesture in their direction. “I don’t like it. If that female is involved, you can bet that heaven has something planned. We’d best find out what it is and put a stop to it.”
The youth with gray hair shuddered again and looked skyward in confusion. He couldn’t see it, but the groups of angels and demons on each roof had just blinked out of existence, vanishing as the crowd around him also began to thin. Poor lad. Pity him, dear readers, for his life had been touched by the wind of destiny and would no longer head down the path of cobbler his dear mother intended for him. As for the wind of destiny, it traveled across all the oceans of the world, slowing down from time to time to caress a cheek or whisper in an ear or ruffle fur. It had its own agenda, completely divorced from the schemes of heaven and hell, and nothing could stand in its way. And Gol D. Roger? The pirate king went to his grave with that smile frozen on his face and the knowledge that his life and his death had changed the world.
A/N: Well, this is obviously inspired by Good Omens, but I'm going to try and take the story in my own direction. The tone of Good Omens and a few of the plot points are what I'm most trying to incorporate. I don't know how much progress I'll make on this. It'll probably be slow going, but I'm going to try. Hope it doesn't suck too much right off the bat.
Edit: BAH! Just as a warning to all and sundry (those few of you out there) who may read this, I already don't like it much. So, if it sucks, please feel free to pick it apart and tell me everything you don't like.
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no subject
Date: 2005-07-26 02:22 pm (UTC)But don't neglect your Hina/Tashigi TOO much, ne? *grin* ^^