The Great and Powerful Q (
fingersnapping) wrote in
poly_chromatic2014-01-02 01:28 am
Entry tags:
3rd Supernova - Dream
And when you close your eyes, you experience, just for a moment, a feeling of being everywhere. You're at the heart of a sun, and lifted on the winds of a supernova. You're standing in the center of a plasma storm. You see with a thousand eyes and feel matter and gravity at your fingertips. You laze back on a quark, and breathe in the sharp cold vacuum of space, walk the boards of a sentient starship made of light, and place a spark into the belly of an active volcano. In the darkness you lean in and exhale, and a cloud of dust stirs and sparkles, throwing dazzling light in every direction, and a new star swirls into life at the heart of it all. But all of this is a thought, a moment, confusing and short lived, and everything goes dark--because he knows you're there.
A crash of purple lightning rips across the darkness, which has become - now - a storm rippled sky. End to end, it snaps and forks, and comes around full circle, casting shadows through the columns of the Grecian temple in which you've found yourself. Somehow it remains illuminated even when the lightning is gone. The smell of ozone hangs pungent, strong enough to taste on the tip of your tongue, a prelude to a downpour, and yet the storm is broken into a circular field of stars directly above, like a wishing pool so clear that it almost looks as though were you to breathe too hard, you might disturb some unfathomable surface into ripples. A single lone figure in robes of red and black sits on a high pedestal, in a glimmering throne, positioned so as to loom over the empty room. In shadow he sits, his face at first obscured.
This is his dream and he has absolute control of it. Enter at your own risk.
Five white, dazzling spotlights cast identical glare down on the single spot in which you stand, and an echoing, authoritative voice - Q's - calls out, loud and terrifying as a roar of thunder.
"Identify yourself and face judgement!"
A crash of purple lightning rips across the darkness, which has become - now - a storm rippled sky. End to end, it snaps and forks, and comes around full circle, casting shadows through the columns of the Grecian temple in which you've found yourself. Somehow it remains illuminated even when the lightning is gone. The smell of ozone hangs pungent, strong enough to taste on the tip of your tongue, a prelude to a downpour, and yet the storm is broken into a circular field of stars directly above, like a wishing pool so clear that it almost looks as though were you to breathe too hard, you might disturb some unfathomable surface into ripples. A single lone figure in robes of red and black sits on a high pedestal, in a glimmering throne, positioned so as to loom over the empty room. In shadow he sits, his face at first obscured.
This is his dream and he has absolute control of it. Enter at your own risk.
Five white, dazzling spotlights cast identical glare down on the single spot in which you stand, and an echoing, authoritative voice - Q's - calls out, loud and terrifying as a roar of thunder.
"Identify yourself and face judgement!"

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And then he was watching her and there was a thunderstorm and more stars and a pool, but no downpour and somehow that all made sense because, well, it was clearly waiting for the rain and well, here she was, shaking a little and trying to shield her eyes from the light, but here and so...
"Oh, gosh. I'm just Rain. I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I don't even know how I got here."
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Another arc of lightning encircles the hilltop; this time it illuminates the sihouettes of distant mountainsides, broken headlands falling into the sea and ancient ruins, like this one, built to worship some archaic god. Q rises from his chair, and steps out into shadow, and shadow carries him down toward the ground as though his weight is bearing down on a cloud.
His voice is softer now, more conversational, but still his face is invisible.
"You're early. It doesn't bode well for our journey."
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She looked up curiously at the being as he floated down. "But I thought it was good to be early."
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He gestured upward. In the pool of stars inverted above them, a silver boat had appeared. Its sails seemed to be spun out of the same consistency of starlight - they twinkled - but the ship appeared to be no larger than a toy, a few feet along at best. Or perhaps that was a trick; it was hard to tell how far away the boat was, or quite how it floated in space.
"It's a star ship. You must have heard of them."
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"Take a hold of that, and mind out for the current. The strength of it will catch you by surprise."
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Looking up at the pedestal, he permits himself one raised eyebrow.]
Judge? I think you picked up the wrong costume at Medaeval Fayre.
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The entire ship is starlight. Deck, sails, mast, crew--all of it, transparent and sparkling. When she's upright, standing on the quarterdeck, he speaks an order.
"Hoist the sails and prepare to make way." The silvery man beside him streaks away in a river of light, taking the whisper away down the deck, and the sails open, windless in the skies above.
"Now it's your turn. Blow."
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[ He raises his hand, and with a snap of his fingers, a flash of light, reappears at Chase's side. ]
And what are you supposed to be?
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What am I? Do you mean career? Nationality? Species? On a biological level?
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[ Q turns, sweeps his arms away toward the room behind Chase and declares: ]
What he is, is a pedant!
[ They were alone before, but now there is a roar - braying and laughing, jeering and shouted insults - from a vast crowd of dirty and disheveled looking onlookers. Q raises them in concert, then lowers his hands to quiet them, turning to look over his shoulder. ]
You stand accused of pedantry--among other things. [ Some of the crowd dare to titter. ] What say you, mortal?
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But lets not quibble. He'd actually be entertained if it weren't for the] What the hell? [Miraculously appearing peasants. He backs up a few steps at that.
Lapsed Catholic. That's what he is. Disowned child. Betrayer. Occasional alcoholic. Orphan. Pedant?
When he recovers himself, he nods.]
I'll take it.
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She's standing on a ship made of starlight! Her!
She laughs and applauds as the silvery man streaks away and oohs and ahhs as the sails open.
She turns to the being who brought her here. "Me? Really? Oh gosh!"
It takes a moment for her to collect herself, but then she closes her eyes, reaches deep down into the depths of her being all the way down into her toes and becomes Wind, blowing with all her heart into the sails.
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And he frowns. He frowns because he's never taken kindly to demands, and he doesn't like being asked to identify himself in that way. So finally, he speaks.]
I'm Jimmy. Who the hell're you?
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Pause for effect.
The crowd roared with mocking laughter. They stilled when he raised his hand. ]
You shouldn't be in such a hurry. Every guilty judgement of this court results in the same punishment. Crime is punishable by death; every crime. Everything from murder to jaywalking.
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"Nice lungs."
Q folds his arms across his chest, looking along the ship toward the prow, cutting seamlessly into the cosmos ahead of them.
"Well? Where would you like to go?"
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I am your judge, your jury, and if need be your executioner, and it is I that you must impress.
[ As he finishes speaking there's another roar of thunder, lightning crashing around them. A bolt of it hits the ground in front of Jimmy, momentarily dazzling, and as it dissipates Q is standing there, his face now cast in the glare from the spotlights. ]
Why do you think you're here?
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[This is just what he does when he feels uncomfortable, and it always gets him into trouble. He can't keep his damn mouth shut; it's always been a problem. Enough of a problem to get lightning thrown at him, apparently. He jumps back, swearing a blue streak.]
What the fuck didja do that for?
[And then a shrug. Still cocky. Still probably as irritating as he'd been before.]
I dunno. I guess 'cause I've got somethin' I've gotta be judged 'n juried for.
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He clicks his fingers, and the both of them are dressed more appropriately.
"There, much better. Would you care to take the wheel, First Mate?"
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Oh, this was so marvelous! She'd never imagined anything quite like this before and to have all of these magical things happen! It was like being in a fairy tale!
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And while the volume of the voice shocks him, the words said does nothing to impress him. ]
Judgment. You gotta be kidding me...
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Death? for pedantry? Fine, I'm not a pedant. Try me. Butcher some grammar, see if I correct you.
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Language. Mm, but I wouldn't dream of punishing you for that. A little colorful vocabulary never did anyone any harm. So it must be something else.
[ He studies him sternly for a moment, then steepling his hands, begins to pace. ] Never mind. We'll find out as we go along. Or perhaps you'll be entertaining enough to grant a pardon--we shall see.
Try to fly, won't you?
[ The ground - the hill, in fact - is suddenly gone from below them, and instead they stand in the air five hundred feet above the crashing ocean. For a moment there's no reason why they shouldn't be falling, and then it becomes clear that they aren't. Not that that ever usually stops people from falling over. Disorientation is hilarious, vertigo is funnier. ]
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"Turn her until the masts line up with your destination. It's as simple as that. Then make a wish."
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[Or maybe he is. Since he has no idea why he is here, that could be as plausible an explanation as any. Maybe he should rephrase and say that he doesn't want to be here for this guy's entertainment, but what's the point? He's known people like this before -- they like power, and they don't generally care what the little people want.
When the ground drops away from underneath them, he does stumble, of course he does, but he doesn't fall over. And as soon as he realizes that they aren't falling, his footing becomes more self-assured.]
Impressive.
[It is. He won't deny that.]
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[ He waves his hand toward the scene, and as lightning flashes - brighter than ever - everything disappears. The hosts of people, the hill, the throne, Q's ridiculous hat. He stands instead in surgeon's blues, a clip-on ID on his lapel that says 'Dr. Q, T.I.', and pens tucked into the pocket, each bearing the labels 'yesterday', 'today' and 'tomorrow'. There's a stethoscope hung about his neck. ]
This is much more like it, don't you think? The wails of the maimed and dying, the sweet familiar scent of vomit. Can you believe they still sew people up like dolls in this century?
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She finally took hold of it gently and began to turn it. She didn't know quite where their destination was, but she turned until it looked pretty and right.
She looked over at him. "Make a wish? What kind of wish? Like a maybe birthday wish or a really truly true wish?"
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Judgement, Leonard, for your crimes. Conspiring to mutiny--are you familiar with that one? Would you like the court to assign council?
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I'd like for the court to mind their own damn business and leave me outta their damn crazy voodoo.
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[ There's a flash of light and a second Q, this one dressed in Starfleet gold, appears beside McCoy. ]
I'll be your council, Doctor. How would you like to plead?