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Post by J. T./Jessica on Jul 16, 2007 15:52:18 GMT -5
"You're not just outnumbered... You're ****ed," Jon put it succinctly.
"Not QUITE how I would of phrased it," J.T. commented, "But it works... Black! Literati Dragon Ranger!"
(Or, alternately, "Literati Dragonfire Ranger!" depending on things...)
"Green! Literati Phoenix Ranger!"
"Yellow! Literati Witch Ranger!"
"Pink! Literati Siren Ranger!"
"Blue! Literati Demon Ranger!"
"White! Literati Dino Ranger!"
"Red! Literati Knight Ranger!"
"Dark Ranger!"
"Literati Earth Ranger!"
"POWER RANGERS!"
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Post by BloodAngel on Jul 17, 2007 8:23:31 GMT -5
Touma's still not back from his seach and only wholesale destroy if it's Mystic Force mission, but here's the latest of the PRL snippets.
Now, I stayed up all night to finish this one and only put it through it's final spelling and grammar check five minutes ago, so beware of possible strangeness. And, likely, incorrect characterizations for most of them. Forgive me, I've never seen an episode of Time Force, only one of Lost Galaxy, Lightspeed Rescue, and only two of In Space. Appolgies in advance.
Notes follow.
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A light rain fell upon a cemetery in a non-descript town. It was a typical cemetery -- dank, spooky, the usual place for idiotic teenagers to prove their maturity by walking in at night. However, this cemetery held some very non-typical inhabitants.
On a hill, at the back of the cemetery, seven young people were laid to rest. They were the Literati Rangers, the Power Rangers of the nearby, now destroyed town of Scenic City, six of whom who died in its defense. Two of them shared a single headstone, and another headstone had been erected for an eighth who was presumed to be dead. The story was the one who had been Yellow had carved the stones herself with her magick. Each grave marker had a stone set in the top, denoting the color each had worn while in service.
It would be some years yet before this location would become a tourist spot, a place where people who respected what this group of Rangers did would gather. A place where, on all the major wiccan holidays, both real witches and the New Agers would come to cast their circles, light their candles, and honor the one some considered an equivalent to a patron saint of love and despair who died on Midsummer’s Day, the day she had planed to have her handfasting. A place where future Ranger teams gathered on the anniversaries of their births and deaths to stand vigil.
As of then, however, there were not even guards to stand watch over them, for the final one to fall had only been buried the previous day. She fell only after she made certain the legacy of the Literati would be remembered, and they were all laid to rest according to their wishes, or what she believed would be their wishes in some cases.
Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps approaching the site of the graves, barely audible in the midnight air. A line of fifteen people walked softly forward, all wearing black with armbands of various colors, most of them holding small bouquets. The one in the middle, presumably the leader, wore a long, dark crimson velvet cloak with the hood raised. He carried seven wreaths woven of weeping willow and cypress branches in one hand. Each had specific colored ribbons woven into them.
“We were too late,” he said softly. The person on his right nodded her head, placing a hand on his shoulder. A yellow diamond glinted off of her ring finger. He lowered his hood, revealing his shoulder length, dirty blond hair with slightly lighter highlights and red armband.
The group stood still for a minute in silence, and then four of them, a young Hispanic male with a white armband, a young African-American male with a blue armband, a young Irish-appearing male with a red armband, and a slightly older male with dark hair with a black armband, broke away from the group and walked to the grave on the far left end with a white stone in the headstone. The eldest of the group placed a bouquet of marigolds, zinnias, bluebells, and a single black rose on the ground, shoved his hands into his pockets, and bowed his head. The ones in red and blue stood on either side of him, and placed a hand comfortingly on the shoulder nearest them. The one in white stood slightly behind the one in red. The one in black was crying softly, but none would know, for the rain blended with his tears.
“This shouldn’t have happened, Andros,” said the girl next to the leader. He shook his head in agreement as he placed a hand on hers.
A blonde woman with a pink armband walked to the gravestone third from the right with a pink stone and placed a small bouquet of purple hyacinths, pink carnations, and dark crimson roses on it, and stood, head bowed, while another blonde girl, this one dressed in a black robe with light blue piping and a light blue armband moved to the left of the largest headstone, which had a blue stone on that side. She placed a bouquet of dark geraniums, love-lies-bleeding, and bluebells on the ground and also bowed her head.
“Sky will never be a Ranger,” another man with a red armband said, as he walked to the grave third from the left with a red stone and placed a bouquet of feverfews, acacias, marigolds, and bluebells on it. “I won’t let him face this fate,” he vowed as he bowed his head.
A young Asian male dressed in a black robe with green piping, also wearing a green armband nodded as he placed a bouquet of gladiolus, magnolia, a York and a Lancaster rose, and dark crimson roses on the ground at the grave second from the right, this one with a green stone, while another Hispanic male, this one about the same age as the dark haired one, with a black armband, placed a bouquet of black poplar, thyme, white heather, and peony on the grave at the far right end, lowering his head. It had a black stone in it. “I wish your wife could have come with us, Wes,” the one in green said, also lowering his head.
The young man in white, sensing that his support could be withdrawn for a brief moment, walked to the grave next to the last one, which had a purple stone in it. “‘He found redemption at the last,’” he read softly as he placed his bouquet at the base. This one had white hyacinths, hyssops, jonquils, and laburnums in it. “Good. No Ranger should die evil.” Unlike the others, he held his head high for the one who had fallen.
Andros patted the hand of the girl who stood beside him and nodded his head. She released his shoulder and walked to the right side of the largest headstone, which had a yellow stone. She placed a bouquet of anemones, love-lies-bleedings, and dark crimson roses on it, revealing her yellow armband, then bowed her head.
Andros, three more with red armbands and one with a silver armband, hung back for a long moment while the ones who had delivered the bouquets stood in silence, honoring their fellow Rangers. Once the moment was over, a dark skined young man in a black robe with red piping, who had a red armband, went over to the one in light blue and placed a hand on her shoulder. The one in green also joined them. Another one with a red armband, who had dark blonde hair, joined the one in pink, wrapping an arm around her waist, Andros doing the same with the one in yellow. The final one in red, who kept his scraggly hair out of his face with a red sweatband, went over to the far left end, to join the group, which once again included the one in white, in comforting the one in black, who had by this point fallen to his knees. The one in silver walked to the one on the far right end and gazed silently at the name on the headstone.
“I knew him,” he said suddenly. “He was one of my opponents in the last pool tournament in Scenic. So was the girl they buried yesterday.” He shook his head. “I had no idea they were Rangers.”
“This shouldn’t have happened, Merrick,” said the one in yellow. “There was no reason for her to die.”
The young man in the blue armband nodded. “I knew the Demon, and by extension knew the Witch. Kira also knew her.”
“You knew them, Ethan?” asked the other one with the black armband.
“Sure did, Carlos. I was at the first funeral; the one the Witch read eulogies for.” He sighed. “I’m not surprised, really.”
“You knew she would do this, and you didn’t stop her?!” the one in yellow all but yelled in surprise.
Ethan held up his hands in a defensive move. “I said I knew her, Ashley. She lived for him from the moment they met. I saw her at the funeral and knew she was already dead, the message just hadn’t reached her brain.”
“Some people are like that,” said the one with the sweatband. “They mate for life, and follow that mate into death.”
“Deep, Cole,” said the young man in green.
Cole shrugged. “I have them sometimes, Cam.”
“None of this would have happened if the Dragon had been there,” Cam added. All but one of the other fourteen heads nodded in agreement.
“Does anyone know what happened to him, Carter?” asked the one in red standing with the green and light blue.
Carter shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Shane. Not even Wes and Jen have been able to track him down.”
Wes also shook his head. “Something’s not right. No Ranger just disappears off the face of the earth like he did.”
The one in light blue shook her head as well. “It all feels so fuzzy. Like a huge shift in the order of the universe.”
The one in red standing with Ethan nodded. “Tori’s right,” he said. “None of this should have happened. The Dragon shouldn’t have disappeared, the Literati shouldn’t have died, the Witch shouldn’t have been the one to discover the bodies of her friends, and she shouldn’t have felt the need to follow them.”
“But there’s nothing we can do about it, Conner,” said the one in white. “None of us, in all the years we’ve been aware of the Grid, have found a way to bring back the dead, not even Time Force. Even Billy wouldn’t have been able to do it.”
“I agree with Trent,” said Carlos, standing with Merrick. “All we can do is make certain this never happens again.” He looked at the other one in black. “I don’t think any of us could take another gathering like this.”
“He was my age,” said the other one. “My age. How can Zack be dead? *Zack?* He was always running around, driving Trini insane. Interrupting me and Kim. Every time one of us was down about something, he found some way to cheer us up.”
Conner knelt down. “Doctor O? Do you need anything?” This wasn’t the science teacher Conner McKnight, Ethan James, or Trent Fernandez-Mercer knew, nor was this the longest serving Ranger in history Andros, Ashley Hammond, Shane Clark, Tori Hanson, Carter Grayson, Dana Mitchell, Cole Evans, Merrick Baliton, Wesley Collins, Cameron Watanabe, or Carlos Vallertes knew. This was just Tommy Oliver, devastated at the lost of one of his oldest friends at such a young age.
When Tommy didn’t answer, Ethan glanced at Cam. “They were *our* age, man,” he said with dawning realization. “Only the Phoenix was younger than us.”
“The Knight was my age,” said Cole. “The Demon a year younger than that.”
“Sky’s only two, and he’s already pretending he’s a Ranger like me and Jen,” said Wes. “How can I let him grow up to do that when a grand total of eight confirmed Ranger deaths and a strongly suspected ninth are on record?”
“Kendrix Morgan was dead,” said Dana suddenly. “She came back. Isn’t there hope, knowing that?”
Andros shook his head. “Kendrix was a special case,” he related sadly. “Her soul was in her Galaxy Saber and when it was returned to its proper place, the energy revived her body. The Literati’s souls have nothing to enter, and no energy to force the spark back into a fire.”
With that, they all lapsed into silence for several long moments again. Finally, Andros spoke again. “Dana, did you manage to get possession of the Witch’s suicide package?”
Dana nodded. “Yes. All the journals, her digital recordings, her suicide note, everything but her will. I should have that by the end of the week.”
Andros nodded. “Good. When you get them, make sure you make copies and get them to Wes and Jen as soon as possible. Wes, this place could very easily become a tourist trap if we aren’t careful.”
Wes nodded. “I’ll assign a group of Silver Guardians to act as their guard when I get back to Silver Hills.”
“The New Agers will flock here,” pointed out Trent. “The Witch *was* the first openly Wiccan Ranger, after all. They’ll be very proud of that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” acknowledged Wes. He turned to Andros. “Given the personality of the Dragon, I strongly believe him to be dead. The only way he would miss a battle, especially one that held the life of his Phoenix in the balance, is if he no longer lived. I suggest that all future reports of Scenic’s destruction and the Literati’s fall, he be listed as a likely KIA.”
Andros nodded. “I think that covers everything.” He then moved forward, placing a wreath on each headstone, each color corresponding with its intended Ranger. The largest headstone gained the largest wreath, with yellow and blue ribbons. With that task completed, he turned to the others. “Farewell, and may the Power protect you.”
Murmured agreements were made as the Rangers began to slowly disperse. Conner helped Tommy to his feet, and then turned to Ethan. “You coming, dude?”
Ethan shook his head. “In a minute.” Conner shrugged and walked off with Tommy. Ethan sighed and pulled out a pair of flowers. “I wish I could have helped you, Amanda. But, knowing you as long as I have, I knew there was nothing to be done. I only hope you found Daniel when you followed him.” Out the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a hemlock blossom and gum rock rose, which were partially hidden under the bouquet Tori set down. They had been there for some time, judging from the amount of weathering they had gone through. “You apparently let him know you were coming, at the least.” He placed the flowers, a yellow tulip and an iris, on the headstone next to her bouquet. “May the Power protect you even in death.”
With Ethan’s departure, the cemetery was again as it had been. A typical stupid teenager hangout, dank and dark, with very non-typical inhabitants. Now, however, the little hill did not seem so alone and sad.
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Post by BloodAngel on Jul 17, 2007 8:24:13 GMT -5
Notes:
1) Each flower in the bouquets means something important in the language of flowers. Starting with Zach’s and going in order of appearance:
Marigolds: Grief
Zinnias: Thinking of an absent friend
Bluebells: Grief
Black rose: Death
Purple hyacinths: Sorrow
Pink carnations: I’ll never forget you
Dark crimson rose: Mourning
Dark geraniums: Melancholy
Love-lies-bleeding: Unchanging love
Feverfew: Protection
Acacia: Friendship
Gladiolus: Ready-armed, strength of character
Magnolia: Dignity, splendid beauty
York and Lancaster rose: War
Black poplar: Courage
Thyme: Strength and courage
White heather: Protection, wishes will come true
Peony: Anger
White hyacinths: I’ll pray for you
Hyssop: Wards away evil spirits
Jonquil: Sympathy
Laburnum: Forsaken
Anemone: Unfading love; anticipation; forsaken; fading hope
Weeping Willow: Mourning
Cypress: Mourning
Hemlock: You will be my death
Gum Rock Rose: I shall die tomorrow
Yellow tulip: Hopeless love
Iris: Message
2) Yes, I do mean Sky Tate. According to SPD, he was born in 2005, which would make him two years old in 2007.
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