Calvin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
magicalworld) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2012-10-13 05:13 pm
magicalworld) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-10-13 05:13 pm
Entry tags:
Nothing you can contemplate will ever be the same
WHO: Calvin and [OPEN]
WHERE: Mystically-aligned leaf piles in various parks and open spaces around the City.
WHEN: Saturday afternoon
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: To quote Calvin's Dad: "I don't know whether your grasp of theology or meteorology is the more appalling."
FORMAT: Whatever works.
Childhood was a magical time full of unbounded imagination and creation, and despite his brief foray into adulthood, Calvin was still very much a child. Kids could come up with the most remarkable things to explain or escape their worlds, including imaginary friends, monsters in household spaces, or toys that came alive. Now that he had been returned to his six-year-old self, he had wasted no time immersing himself once more in the world of imagination.
In Calvin's case, the world of imagination had come up with a personal cult that posited the existence of the great and awful 'Snow Demons.' These entities were responsible for determining whether each winter saw mounds of joyfully packable school-closing snow or pitiful, swiftly melted flurries fit to break the heart of a young boy seeking a jolly white Christmas. To ensure the former and ward off the latter, every Fall the Snow Demons had to be ritually appeased through chanting, supplication, and burnt sacrifice.
Last year Calvin had been thwarted by various busybodies (and aided by a couple helpful bystanders who would surely be rewarded by the Snow Demons for their faithful service). Thinking back on it, he had reluctantly been forced to admit that he had made a mistake by trying to burn an enormous pile of leaves in Battery Park. Having just one location made it too easy for the sacrifice to be interrupted by heretics. Therefore, this year he had spent most of Saturday zooming about the City, meticulously raking up every available leaf with the aid of his powers. He tried to make the piles five-pointed, a ritual shape rumoured to be pleasing to the Snow Demons.
Now he just needed some matches and lighter fluid, and he could make sure this year had the best winter ever.
WHERE: Mystically-aligned leaf piles in various parks and open spaces around the City.
WHEN: Saturday afternoon
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: To quote Calvin's Dad: "I don't know whether your grasp of theology or meteorology is the more appalling."
FORMAT: Whatever works.
Childhood was a magical time full of unbounded imagination and creation, and despite his brief foray into adulthood, Calvin was still very much a child. Kids could come up with the most remarkable things to explain or escape their worlds, including imaginary friends, monsters in household spaces, or toys that came alive. Now that he had been returned to his six-year-old self, he had wasted no time immersing himself once more in the world of imagination.
In Calvin's case, the world of imagination had come up with a personal cult that posited the existence of the great and awful 'Snow Demons.' These entities were responsible for determining whether each winter saw mounds of joyfully packable school-closing snow or pitiful, swiftly melted flurries fit to break the heart of a young boy seeking a jolly white Christmas. To ensure the former and ward off the latter, every Fall the Snow Demons had to be ritually appeased through chanting, supplication, and burnt sacrifice.
Last year Calvin had been thwarted by various busybodies (and aided by a couple helpful bystanders who would surely be rewarded by the Snow Demons for their faithful service). Thinking back on it, he had reluctantly been forced to admit that he had made a mistake by trying to burn an enormous pile of leaves in Battery Park. Having just one location made it too easy for the sacrifice to be interrupted by heretics. Therefore, this year he had spent most of Saturday zooming about the City, meticulously raking up every available leaf with the aid of his powers. He tried to make the piles five-pointed, a ritual shape rumoured to be pleasing to the Snow Demons.
Now he just needed some matches and lighter fluid, and he could make sure this year had the best winter ever.
no subject
[She's heard the stories, she remembered, and when Calvin went missing, she went looking.]
You are not burning leaves in public.
no subject
Well, I can't very well move all this inside to burn, can I? What do you want me to do, set up a privacy screen?
no subject
[It was the best offer he'd get. And she was even willing to help.]
no subject
...How big a bunch are we talking about here?
no subject
no subject
And you're really powerful, right? So you should be able to control something really big.
no subject
[She offers her hand, hoping to lead the kid away from temptation.]
no subject
[Calvin takes the hand, but looks wistfully at his enormous meticulously-crafted leaf pile as he does. Then he lets go of the hand.]
Hold on, there's something I have to do before we go anywhere.
no subject
[She pauses and watches Calvin silently, perhaps a little suspiciously.]
And what is that?
no subject
[Calvin sprints off, runs and jumps smack into the middle of the pile with enough force to scatter gold and red leaves high into the air. After a second his head pops out of the mound, grinning as leaves crackle around him and drift down into his hair.]
Okay, we can go now. I didn't want to just waste all that wasted time.
no subject
Hey, for that kind of thing, you can take all the time you want.
[Once Calvin's free though, she pulls the leaves back into a pile for the owner of whatever property this is. Just to make it easier for them later.]
no subject
[But flying's pretty cool too, since he immediately rises into the air once he's done.]
no subject
It does come in handy.