The Eighth chose not and hid all away...|
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Yrael, the Eighth Bright Shiner's LiveJournal:
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|Sunday, November 1st, 2009|
|OOM: Who ya gonna call?
Yrael has the information they'll need for their... field trip, that which Tesla helpfully procured for them
about the Cabal. Yrael, Axel and Nikola have been planning this for quite a while, and since the Cabal seem to be stepping up their activity in regards to searching for Nikola, they decided that acting sooner was better than later.
Getting into Tesla's world is as simple as him opening the door and letting Axel and Yrael step through.
|Wednesday, September 30th, 2009|
|Terrible Triad Touring Agency: New Orleans
Yrael grins as she steps out from the bar and into the deserted alleyway and the New Orleans early evening. She glances over her shoulder to see Liz and Nikola follow her through the door, which closes behind them.
"We've got a while before I have to be there for my gig," she grins at them, "so I thought I'd show you around the French Quarter."
Since, and she may be ever so slightly sheepish about this, she hasn't gotten around to doing so before.
|Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009|
|Just a ficlet, set in the far future.
The warmly-lit room brought a smile to her face, as it never failed to do, even despite its current emptiness. The fireplace was empty, cold; there was no need for it anyway. It was a warm night, and there wouldn't be anyone to warm themselves at the fireside.
Wandering in, she drifted her pale hand fondly down the wooden counter, feeling the ages of loving care that had been taken, the smoothness of countless polishings, despite its current coating of dust.
Letting herself behind the counter, she found a lingering half-full bottle of vodka, an unopened bottle of coffee liquor and the last unspoiled carton of cream, and a tall glass. It would take her a while to invert all the chairs upon the tables, but she wasn't in a hurry. She wanted to linger here, as she always had caught herself wanting to. Even with the empty rooms, the cold fireplace, the silent piano, and the dust-covered bar, she felt surrounded by old friends.
For the memories, she drank in silence.
When she put the last chair on the last table, the one nearest the door, she moved to turn out the lights. Looking out at the empty room again, the tangle of upward-pointing chairlegs looked like the branches of dead trees in winter, strangely lit by the flickering light outside the large window.
In the dim room, she stood, quiet, remembering.
Were she anyone else, she would have jumped, feeling the faint pressure against her chins, the faint vibration.
"Hey you," she says, crouching down with a fond smile on her lips. Her hand moves over the air, fingers repeatedly curling and uncurling. A faint light glows under her extended hand, radiant heat shivering the air, the vibration growing slightly against her fingers. "Good to see you too."
She grins as the gentle light flows up her arm to lay about her shoulders, light as mist.
"I wanted to see the old place again," she explains, turning her head to gaze at the light. "Glad I ran into you."
The light vibrates, casting dim, shivery shadows around the empty room, a gentle halo about her head and shoulders, brushing against her wild, black hair.
"Yeah," she smiles sympathetically, reaching up to brush her hand over the light. "I missed you too."
"No, hon. I can't stay. Business to attend to."
"I know. I'm sorry."
The light stills on her shoulder, ghostly against her pale skin and black tank-top. Gingerly, she reaches up to lift the light down, cradling it in her arms. "I know, why don't you come with? I could use the company."
The light vibrates in her hands, glowing.
The girl chuckles as she moves to the door.
"Sure, you can provide the soundtrack. It'll be beautiful, I know."
The quiet noise of the door closing behind them, seeming to echo in the stillness, sounds like the passage of wings.
|Friday, May 29th, 2009|
|Night in the Forest
Yrael comes down the outside bypass stairs
, not wanting to have to take the time to pass through the bar. In there, he might be stopped or questioned before getting to retreat to the relative quiet of the forest at night.
He strides out into the trees, his bare feet silent in the grass and moist soil, on rock and tree root.
He wants... he doesn't know what he wants.
|Evening in the Forest
The evenings are edging into the 'pleasantly cool' range, as the year progresses. One can stretch out on a tree branch and watch the pink clouds above the mountain shift from pink to purple to grey, as the night rolls in. It is a singularly beautiful sight, one that is quite useful when a patron has a lot of thoughts to sort through.
So this evening there is a Bright Shiner stretched out along a tree-branch, near the lakeshore, watching the far clouds slowly drain of color. Still, though the sunset was a a brilliant one, and the colors left behind were quite beautiful, his thoughts are elsewhere. And they are troubled.
|Thursday, April 16th, 2009|
|New Orleans w/Jason
From the bar, the two of them step out into the humid, New Orleans night. The clouds cover the stars and moon, leaving it up to the streetlamps to cast light upon the people who are out and about this evening.
There's the scent of rain in the air. Rain, and the scents of people, cheap hot dogs, alcohol, and the underlying scent of the city, always there.
"It's not far. Just a few blocks over," Yrael says as she looks out at Bourbon St.
|Saturday, February 14th, 2009|
The party is apparently in full swing already, not waiting yet for the official parades. Multitudes of people crowd the New Orleans' streets, some in costume and some not, most with alcohol or beads or both. They don't notice the sudden additions to their number, as Yrael and Jason's door from Milliways drops them off in the alleyway off of Bourbon street.
"It's been building up for weeks, already," Yrael grins. "A full month of parties, with things like Valentine's Day going all but unnoticed."
|Sunday, December 21st, 2008|
|Axel's Heartday Party
The door from Milliways connects to the entrance to a large dance club
, lit in varying shades of greens, blues, reds and oranges. The ceiling is high and black, decorated with hanging swaths of vividly-colored fabric. A black bar with a line of matching barstools lines one wall, lit from above by candles, from below by colored lights hidden under the rim of the bar itself. It is certainly well-stocked with many types of alcohol, and with actual bartenders to dispense it.
Down a short, central stairway the room opens up into the main dance floor, the walls and floor lit from within by ever-shifting colors, as well as light streaming down from the lights near the high ceiling, co-ordinated to match the current colors of the floor and walls. To the right of the entrance are various sitting areas of couches and comfortable chairs, all lit by a combination of candle-light and the light from the colored wall-panels.
The night is young, the music is playing, and the party's just getting started.(ooc: Party post! Mingle, thread-hop, have a good time! This post is open for as long as people want it to be, i.e. forever. ^__^!)
(ooc2: Azy says that if Axel abruptly disappears, it's because she's on satellite internet and there's a storm going on where she is. The interference might cut out her internet connection.) Current Mood: partylicious!
Voices can be heard as the office door shuts.
"...rise to see you! How've you been? We've really appreciated your continued patronage, Felix, since your performance. Our averages have risen so much that we may have to expand soon." There's a laugh and the sound of two people taking seats. One of the chairs squeaks of leather, muffled slightly due to being behind a desk.
"I'm glad to hear I've helped. I've been bringing friends whenever I visit, and they've all agreed that it's a great place," replies the other, easily. "Which is actually why I asked to see you, today, really. I've a friend whose birthday is... well, today, and I was hoping to book the club for a party."
"That'd be grand, Felix; we'd love to host a party for you and your friends... but... when would this be?"
"Tonight, if at all possible." The tone of voice totally expects it to be possible.
"On such short notice..." the hesitant voice is accompanied by the sound of a mouse clicking. "We're booked all this week, I'm afraid..."
"How much are they paying for tonight?" The second voice is unconcerned.
The computer monitor squeaks as it's turned.
"I'll triple that if you'll call them and say there was a mix-up, that tonight was already booked, but that you'd be happy to work them in later."
"B-but they're long-time patrons- we have a relationship with their people and a reputation to uphold-"
"In addition to paying three-times the fees, which would go a long way to helping along that planned expansion, wouldn't it, I would make it so that all of my performances in the next six months would be exclusively held in your establishment. All we'd need tonight by way of staff would be bartenders and someone to take care of the music."
There is a long silence.
Followed by the sound of a phone being dialed. Pity that smiles are not audible. Current Mood: devious
|Thursday, September 18th, 2008|
Yrael takes his place behind the bar with a grin, today, taking down the specials board.
"Evening, everyone!" he greets. "It turns out that Teddy Altman is trying to rebuild his collection of recipes, so he needs to experiment to fill in the blanks left in what he can recall from memory. So, as part of this Happy Hour, you've all been volunteered as test subjects. Enjoy the good food to help out a fellow patron, and your drink is half-off."
When he replaces the board, it reads:White-Hot Happy Hour Specials!
Soup: Spicy White Chili with Chicken
Entree: Pan-Fried Rockfish
(sith mashed cauliflower, and a side of sauteed onions with shrimp and jalapenos)
Dessert: Bombe Alaska served en flambé
'Camelot Highlands' Chardonnay
Fire in the Sky
Hot Vanilla (non-alcoholic)
"Step up, everyone," he leans on the bar. "What'll it be?" Current Mood: cheerful
|Sunday, August 31st, 2008|
|August 14th: Not all things go well in the Big Easy
Billy was impressed. He knew this guy was good, from his reputation, but still- seeing him perform live was a whole different experience. Felix White had been an unknown a few months ago, only recently coming into prominence through his memorable performances in the bars of the French Quarter. He hadn't even cut a CD yet, but Mr. Warren wanted to offer him a sponsorship deal... so here Billy was, the go-between finding himself mesmerized along with the rest of the audience while he waited for the end of the set so he might approach the bright figure on the small stage.
The owner of the bar didn't know Billy was here, or else Billy would have found himself thrown back out into the street an hour ago. Felix brought in crowds each weekend he performed, and the bar's owner would fight to keep from losing all that potential business. Billy was sure there was some fire safety code being broken, to judge from how tightly the bar was filled with people.
Of course, the bar owner didn't mind. It got hot when a lot of people gathered in a relatively small space. Hot people need drinks to keep cool.
Billy was sure that this bar didn't employ five bartenders on other
nights of the week.
Felix seemed to be a smaller presence once he'd stepped down from the stage at the end of the evening. Billy noticed that he was still tall, but seemed thinner, less there
once the music was over and he was surrounded by people all trying to talk to him at once. Most new indie musicians were overwhelmed at first by the thought that they had fans, but Billy was pleased to see that Felix seemed completely nonplussed, taking it in stride with a grin and a few words of easy conversation to each that approached him. A good sign for the go-between for the record company wanting to sponsor him.
Billy inwardly sighed with relief when Felix took the offer of a sponsorship deal with enthusiasm. His worry about whether or not Felix would agree to come to Baton Rouge to meet with Mr. Warren also proved to be unnecessarily.
Felix wasn't as attached to his image as an indie musician as some were.
Billy talked nearly constantly about the opportunities that would be available to Felix as they drove. He was kind of desperate not to lose this one, as the last three had not been nearly as open to offers, which... didn't do well for the stability of Billy's job. Felix seemed cheerful and attentive to just about every suggestion Billy had, for the most part, though he looked tired. Probably from his performance.
As they drove further from New Orleans, Felix' replies got fewer and less enthusiastic, which just made Billy feel the need to talk more. About the potential money, the better venues, the better equipment.
Felix eventually turned to nodding instead of replying. Soon after, his eyes closed. Billy drove on.
It was about forty miles from New Orleans, halfway to Baton Rouge, when Billy realized Felix wasn't answering any more. That his skin was rapidly growing colder. (Not paler, though; that wasn't really possible.) That he wasn't breathing.
Billy swerved to make the next exit, cursing. He needed to get this rising star, overdosed on on the drug of his choice, no doubt, to the hospital.
But by the time the car reached the New Orleans city limits, it was clear that Felix wouldn't make it to the hospital. His body was shutting down. There was no longer anyone there. Billy kept up a continuous stream of cursing; he couldn't afford to have had such a lucrative potential client fall dead in his car. He'd lose his job. He was still rebuilding from all the damage three years ago. Times were hard. His wife had lost her job just two weeks ago. He couldn't afford for this to have happened.
One of the darkened alleyways of the French Quarter, not far from the bar where Felix had played to such acclaim, served to hide the body. It would probably be mistaken as one of the sleeping homeless, at least until Billy could sell his bosses on the story that he had never made contact with Felix White that night. That he had missed him after the show, and didn't know where he had disappeared to.
|Monday, March 31st, 2008|
|OOM: Healing Asher
On the agreed-upon evening, Yrael waits outside for Asher to arrive. He lounges on a branch of a tree near the lake shore, green eyes half-shut as he watches the unsuspecting bluebird on the branch above him. He hasn't moved in two hours.
Maybe this time, he'll get dessert.
|Wednesday, March 26th, 2008|
|OOM: Open-Mic 2
Yrael and Teja step through the door and out into a deserted alleyway in New Orleans. It's evening, here, around eight o'clock with the sun just having fully set. The people in the street before them haven't noticed them yet.
"All right... to find a clothing shop."
|Tuesday, February 19th, 2008|
It's been nearly a week since his nightmare
Some time late in the afternoon, Yrael pads on bare feet down the corridor to the familiar door of Svava and Archie's home.
Yrael knocks the same way he always does, two evenly-spaced knocks at chest-height. Never too loud, in case Moira is asleep.
|Wednesday, February 13th, 2008|
Perhaps no one is immune.
On the couch by the fire, site of innumerable catnaps, is curled a small not'cat, tossing and turning as he ( dreamsCollapse )
|Tuesday, December 11th, 2007|
Five days from now, at dawn on Friday the 21st, our resident fiery
Nobody will be getting a heart of his very own. The making will take place on the open lawn near the lake shore, with a clearly-marked place for those directly participating in the making and for those watching. From IC-planning, there will be three or four magical barriers of various kinds to minimize possible interference. Of course, knowing some of Axel's friends, anyone who would try to interfere will have their hands full.
The event post itself will be much like a party post, with four main sections for ease of organization:
The Arrival thread, the Making itself, reactions and conversations among those watching the Making, and the Aftermath. The Making thread will just be Namine, Hephaestos, Axel and Yrael, but the other sections are for everyone attending.
For great millitime and pre-threading, the event's post is HERE
|Thursday, August 23rd, 2007|
|Canon Snippet 2
No Death sense twitched, but Sabriel could almost smell the Free Magic; tangy, unnatural, nerve-jangling, tainting the thick odor of natural smoke. Then she saw the white fire-lines again, streaming out, converging, roiling, coming together- and a blazing, blue-white creature stepped out from the funeral pyre of the Paperwing.
Sabriel couldn't look at it directly, but from the corners of her arm-shielded eyes, she saw something human in shape, taller than her, and thin, almost starved. It had no legs, the torso and head balanced upon a column of twisting, whirling force.
"Free, save for the blood price," it said, advancing. All trace of Mogget's voice was lost now, submerged in zapping, crackling menace.
Sabriel had no doubt about the meaning of a blood price and who would pay it. Summoning all her remaining energies, she called three Charter marks to the forefront of her mind, and hurled them toward the thing, shouting their names.
"Anet! Calew! Ferhan!"
The marks became silver blades as they left her hand, mind and voice, flashing through the air swifter than any thrown dagger - and went straight through the shining figure, apparently without effect.
It laughed, a series of rises and falls like a dog screaming in pain, and lazily slid forward. Its languid motion seemed to declare it would have no more trouble disposing of Sabriel than it had in burning the Paperwing.
Sabriel drew her sword and backed away, determined not to panic as she had done when faced by the Mordicant. Her head flicked backwards and forwards, neck pain forgotten, checking the ground behind her and marking her opponent. Her mind raced, considering options. perhaps one of the bells- but that would mean dropping her candle. Could she count on the creature's blazing presence to light her way?
Almost as if it could read her mind, the creature suddenly started to lose it s brilliance, sucking darkness into its swirling body like a sponge soaking up ink. Within a few second, Sabriel could barely make it out - a fearful silhouette, backlit by the orange glow of the burning Paperwing.
Desperately, Sabriel tried to remember what she knew about Free Magick elementals and constructs. her father had rarely mentioned them, and Magistrix Greenwood had only lightly delved into the subject. Sabriel knew the binding spells for two of the lesser kindred of Free Magic beings, but the creature before her was neither Margrue nor Stilken.
"Keep thinking, Abhorsen," laughed the creature, advancing again. "Such a pity your head doesn't work too well."
"You saved it from not working forever," Sabriel replied warily.
"Sentiment," the thing replied, still silently sliding forward. It laughed again and a dark, tendril-like arm suddenly unleashed itself, snapping across the intervening space to strike Sabriel across the face.
"A memory, now purged," it added, as Sabriel staggered back from a second attack, sword flashing across to parry. Unlike the silver spell-darts, the Charter-etched blade did connect with the unnatural flesh of the creature, but had no effect apart from jarring Sabriel's arm.
"Memories, yes, many memories," continued the creature. It was circling around her now, pushing her back the way they'd come, back toward the fading fire of the Paperwing. That would burn out soon, and then there would only be darkness.
"Millenia of servitude, Abhorsen. Chained by trickery, treachery... captive in a repulsive, fixed-flesh shape... but there will be payment, slow payment - not quick, not quick at all!"
Lalala it catches her.
Swordarm pinioned to her side, it tightened its grip till she was close against its chest, her face a finger-width from its boiling, constantly moving flesh. Another arm gripped the back of her helmet, forcing her to look up, till she saw its head, directly above her. A thing of most basic anatomy, its eyes were like the sinkhole, deep pits without apparent bottom. It had no nose, but a mouth that split the horrid face in two, a mouth slightly parted to reveal the burning blue-white glare that it had first used as flesh.
All Charter Magic had fled from Sabriel's mind. her sword was trapped, her bells likewise, and even if they weren't she didn't know how to use them properly against things not Dead. She ran over them mentally anyway, in a frantic, lightning inventory of anything that might help.
It was then her tired, concussed mind remembered the ring. It was on her left hand, her free hand, cool silver on the index finger.
But she didn't know what to do with it- and the creature's head was bowing down towards her own, its neck stretching impossibly long, till it was like a snake's head rearing over her, the mouth opening wider, growing brighter, fizzing with white-hot sparks that fell upon her helmet and face, leaving tiny, tattoo-like scars. The ring felt loose on her finger. Sabriel instinctively curled her hand, at eh ring felt looser still, slipping down her finger, expanding, growing, till without looking, Sabriel knew she held a silver hoop as wide or wider than the creature's slender head. And she knew what to do.
"First, the plucking of an eye," said the thing, breath as hot as the falling sparks, scorching her face with instant sunburn. It tilted its head sideways and opened its mouth still wider, lower jaw dislocating out.
Sabriel took one last careful look, screwed her eyes tight against the terrible glare, and flipped the silver hoop up, and she hoped, over the thing's neck. For a second, as the heat increased and there was a terrible burning pain against her eye, Sabriel thought she'd missed. Then the hoop was wrenched out of her hand, and she was thrown away, hurled out like an angry fisherman's minnow.
She had put the silver hoop over the thing's head, and it was slowly sliding down that long, sinuous neck. The ring was shrinking again as it slid, impervious to the creature's desperate attempts to get it off. It had six or seven hand now, formed directly from its shoulders, all squirming about, trying to force fingers under the ring. But the metal seemed inimical to the creature's substance, like a hot pan to human fingers, for the fingers flinched and danced around it, but could not take hold for longer than a second.
Still the creature fought with the ring, blazing hands forming and reforming, body twisting and turning, even bucking, as if it could throw the ring like a rider from a horse. Finally, it gave up and turns toward Sabriel, screaming and crackling. Two long arms sprang out from it, reaching towards Sabriel's sprawling body, talons growing from the hands, raking the stone with deep gouges as they sought her.
"No!" howled the thing, its whole twisting, coiling body lurched forward, killing arms outstretched, again falling short. Then the silver ring contracted once more, and a terrible shout of anguish, rage and despair came from the very center of the white-flaming thing. Its arms suddenly shrank back to its torso; the head fell into the shoulders, and the whole body sank into an amorphous blod of shimmering white, with a single, still-large silver band around the middle, the ruby glittering like a drop of blood.
It seemed to her that something was left undone. Wearily, she got up on her knees and fumbled with the bell-bandolier. Saraneth was heavy, almost beyhond her strength, but she managed, and the deep, compelling voice rang throughout he sinkhole, seeming to pierce the glowing, silver-bound mass.
The ring hummed in answer to the bell and exuded a pear-shaped drop of its own metal, which cooled to become a miniature Saraneth. At the same time, the ring changed color and consistency. The ruby's color seemed to run, and a red wash spread through the silver. it was now dull and ordinary, a red leather collar, with a miniature silver bell. With this change, the white mass quivered, and shone bright again, till Sabriel had to shield her eyes once more. When the shadows grew together again, she looked back, and there was Mogget, collared in red leather, sitting up and looking like he was about to throw up a hairball. It wasn't a hairball, but a silver ring, the ruby reflecting Mogget's internal light. It rolled to Sabriel, who picked it up and slid it back on her finger.
Mogget's glow faded, and the burning Paperwing was now only faint embers, sad memories and ash. Darkness returned, cloaking Sabriel, wrapping her up with all her hurts and fears.
A little later, she felt a soft cat nose against her folded hands, and a candle, damp from Mogget's mouth.
"Your nose is still bleeding," said a familiar, didactic tone. "Light the candle, pinch your nose, and get some blankets out for us to sleep. It's getting cold."
They were gone. Instead, there was Mogget, stalking mysteriously towards her from the middle of the room.
"Well, I'm ready," Sabriel said.
Mogget didn't answer, but sat at her feet, and made a movement that looked very much like he was going to be sick. Sabriel recoiled, disgusted, then halted, as a small metallic object fell from Mogget's mouth and bounced on the floor.
"Almost forgot," said Mogget. "You'll need this if I am to come with you."
"What is it?" asked Sabriel, bending down to pick up a ring; a small silver ring, with a ruby gripped between two silver claws that grew out of the band.
"Old," replied Mogget, enigmatically. "You'll know if you need to use it. Put it on."
Sabriel looked at it closely, holding it between two fingers as she slanted it towards the light. It felt, and looked, quite ordinary. There were no Charter marks on the stone or band; it seemed to have no emanations or aura. She put it on.
It felt cold as it slipped down her finger, then hot, and suddenly she was falling, falling into infinity, into a void that had no end and no beginning. Everything was gone, all light, all substance. Then Charter marks suddenly exploded all around her and she felt gripped by them, halting her headlong fall into nothing, accelerating her back up, back into her body, back to the world of life and death.
"Free Magic," Sabriel said, looking down at the ring gleaming on her finger. "Free Magic, connected to the Charter. I don't understand."
"You'll know if you need to use it," Mogget repeated, almost as if it were some lesson to be learned by rote. Then, in his normal voice: "Don't worry about it till then. Come - the Paperwing is ready."
|Monday, April 23rd, 2007|
|OOM: Kyo to the Old Kingdom
(ooc: From here.)
Yrael opens the door of the bar and steps down into what seems to be a benighted floodplain. The calm, ankle-deep waters stretch beyond the grey horizon, its surface glimmering with the reflections of what hangs above. The inverted bowl of the sky glows with a multitude of stars. Every star that ever existed, shining down softly upon the waters in a great cloud of luminescence. They sing; they call to those below with promises of sweet rest, neverending contentment. They call for those below to cast off all of their burdens, everything that weighs them down, keeps them from that perfect happiness.
Spirits of the Dead, little wisps of light, rise from the waters in torrents. Some go eagerly, eternal peace finally within their grasp. Some go slowly, fighting every inch of the way, holding on to all the things they still wanted to do in Life.
|Thursday, January 18th, 2007|
What's the worst thing someone could do?
Enslave another without just cause. What's the worst thing someone could do to you?
Judge me, condemn me, dismiss me for not meeting their expectations when I am either not aware of their expectations or am obviously opposed to their expectations of me.What's the worst thing that could happen to you?
To be imprisoned again.What's the worst thing someone could say about a person?
That there is no reason for them to have ever existed. What's the best thing someone could say about a person?
I would not have known this a few years ago, but I believe one of the highest compliments one can give to another is to say that they are glad to have known them. Not being a person that it is regrettable to have met is... a good feeling.Are men and women basically different?
Of course they are. One can tell that just by looking.Which is better, to be a woman or to be a man?
That depends on what one is using the shape to accomplish. What can men do that women can't do?
Not much. It depends on the individual man and woman one is comparing.What can women do that men can't do?
Unless it is different in a world I have yet to visit, men cannot bear young.Is it possible to change genders?
Yes.How old is old enough to have sex?
Old enough to think about having it.Is it wrong to have sex if you're unmarried?
No.Is it wrong to have sex with someone other than your spouse if you're married?
No.Is it wrong to have sex with a person of the same gender?
No.Is it wrong to have sex with a person of a different race (or a different intelligent non-human species)?
*snorts* No. Is it wrong to have more than one sexual partner at the same time?
No.Is it wrong to have sex with someone you don't love?
I think we've established that I am entirely in favor of letting anyone and everyone do whatever they want to do. It is not another's responsibility to label someone's actions right or wrong, and it's especially not my
responsibility.What are the responsibilities of a mother toward a child?
In most cultures, she's expected to raise the child, feed it and keep it clean until it is able to do so for itself.What are the responsibilities of a father toward a child?
Also in most cultures I have come across, the father is expected to provide for the child and see that it is taught what it needs to know.What are the responsibilities of a child toward a parent?
Not much. Be grateful, I suppose.Which should be more important to you, your parent or your child?
Strange question, and one I am in not a very good position to answer. I suppose one is meant to say "my child," as children are the next generation of Life and all that. *rolls eyes*Which should be more important to you, your parent or your spouse?
Again, a question I am not in a position to answer very well. I suppose most say their spouse.Which should be more important to you, your child or your spouse?
...you do know that I'm not the marrying type, and am not even capable of having children, right?Is it wrong to have a child if you're unmarried?
And you know what I think about labelling other peoples' actions as 'wrong.' As long as it doesn't affect me, I say anyone can do anything they want.Is abortion wrong?
No.Is contraception wrong?
No. Still asking the wrong person.Is there one true religion?
Even the gods here agree that there isn't. Maybe one true religion for a specific world, but not for every one.Does a deity or deities exist?
Of course.How important is it to believe in a deity or deities?
About as important as it is to believe in the person you talk to over your evening glass of wine.How important is it to actively practice your religion?
Ask someone who practices one.Does magic exist?
... *snickers* Nooooooo
.Is practicing magic wrong?
No.Is killing always wrong?
If it is, a lot of 'good' people are actually 'bad'. Personally, I do not believe it is wrong. Some people need killing.Is war always wrong?
No.How old is old enough to fight in a war?
Old enough to learn how.Is rape always wrong?
As long as it's not someone I care about, I could care less.Is torture always wrong?
No. It's really rather fun, on occasion.Is theft always wrong?
Definitely not. I find some of the best Christmas gifts that way.Is slavery wrong?
Yes.Is lying wrong?
...Yes. *grins*Is swearing wrong?
What was that phrase again? ...oh yeah. Hell