Well, hello! And Welcome to My Little World of Weirdness!
I state for the record that, despite the fact I really, really wish I did, I don't own any of the official characters that will grace this story; it's all CLAMP's! Always has been, always will be! I *DO*, however, own Marcibay Hilligans and Hei-ying Reed!! I also own Mystrasa Kyree, and the dragon isn't mine, it's on loan from my good friend, the Blue Goo! And what the heck . . . I own the mansion as well! [Laughs] Also I don't pretend to have any Mastery over the language of Japanese or any clue as to correct grammatical structure. I put it in and hope it gets across the point I'm trying to make! And I don't pretend to be able to write any sort of accents so please don't hate me!
"Speaking"
*Stress/emphasis*
//Thinking//
In This Tainted Soul . . .
By Dr Megalomania.
Part Two: Tasks and Experiments
A few months later, the mansion was fully renovated, and incredibly Clow had done it all by himself, with the aid of magic of course. After he had fixed the house to his liking, the stairs now curled around each other, in a swirl, in the entrance hall, the light beach wood panelling had been switched to dark hard wood, and the fireplaces lit themselves now; Clow had placed the entire building and it's grounds under a very powerful spell. The spell held the property just out of the land's normal time, where a year passed for everyone else, a mere month passed for Clow, Hilligans and the Reed mansion. Hilligans agreed to live on the grounds and asked to take care of the immediate garden surrounding the mansion. A year passed as Clow became used to his life within the mansion, before he started to experiment with his magic. At first he created little things, small sprites that would do modest chores when asked, he charmed a quill to write whatever he said, and spent hours just dictating pure nonsense to the thing, simply because it would write and write away. Hilligans found spades working diligently at his potatoes patch, and when he yelled at them to work someplace else, "Damned charmed pixies! Get thee out o' me 'tato space!" they went to the next task of working diligently at the carrot patch. "Laddie! Stop charmin' me work tools!" was often yelled up into the air, much to Clow's amusement.
Clow dug out his father's warlock robes, keen to look the part as well. After making some minor adjustments . . . "Laddie . . ." Marcibay eyed his robes once, "The symbols ain't thine own, and yellow most certainly ain't thy colour." . . . Clow had changed the yellow to a royal blue, and the dragon's head and the rose had been changed to a thin moon and half of the sun. Happy with the robes, Clow had decided against following family tradition of having a long wooden staff, with a thorny rose wrapping around it, and a dragon's head at the top, with a large crystal ball in the dragon's teeth. He created a small gilded wand for himself, which could be shrunk to the size of a key, for convenience's sake. It possessed the same slice of the moon and an extended sun. He laced a lot of magic with it, which would only respond to him, which was a good thing considering the move spirit that he had created. The small, invisible winged spirit was only capable of moving small things, and was highly irritating. It would often find his wand on his desk, and move it around very quickly. Clow had spent many an hour chasing after the wand, until he learnt that he had to stop and sense the spirit's next move. Yet Clow didn't have the heart to destroy it, he wished however that he had created some way of controlling it. Such was the case with many of the spirits he had created, the fifth and sixth floors of his mansion had been completely dedicated to the housing of these mischievous spirits, the ones that preferred to stay indoors would take over one of the many rooms; others, who preferred the outdoors, lived in the wilder parts of the grounds that lay just beyond Hilligans' much loved garden. Clow always walked down the corridors everyday to check on each of them. He'd stand in the doorway, and watch as the jump spirit and the floating spirit bounced objects around, or he'd watch the woody spirit grow an amazing jungle of increasing weird and wonderful trees, while the flower spirit, a beautiful spirit that took the form of a young girl, would display thousands upon thousands of exotic flowers. The spirit always dragged Clow into the room for a dance and to show him the latest of her displays. The flower spirit was one of his particular favourites, she was beautiful and would always be ready for a good time, but when he wanted to talk to her, place his hand against her cheek, her single mindedness would show through and she would repeat her magical display.
Clow would often look at his creations and wish that he could actually talk to them, only a few had voices, like the singing spirit and the echo spirit. Both could talk or sing, but neither could hold a conversation. He had tried to create a spirit for pure light and accidentally created a spirit for pure darkness at the same time. While both these spirits could talk, they were only interested in talking to each other. Clow stared into the room that they inhabited, illumination and shadows swirled like oil and water shaken in a glass. Again the display beautiful, but single minded. He retired to his study, only to find the moving spirit had acquired the services of the floating card. The pair had combined to rearrange his entire study. He laughed as he stared up at the ceiling. "My, my," he muttered, "You have been busy."
"T'ain't no laughin' matter, Laddie." Groused Hilligans, as the elderly man approached. He held the doubling spirits by the scuff of their necks in each hand. The two took the form a little girl and a little boy, both were identical except for their hair, one had pink, the other blue. Hilligans was dragging them to the study. "These two 'ave been at it again, now we 'ave *eight* horses . . . 'ow am I going t' care for *eight* horses?"
"I'm sure that we have more than enough food and we can build the extra stables." Clow smiled. Hilligans held the pair up, "An' what are thee gonna do wit' these two? Laddie, thy really ought to figure out a way t' control these things that yer creatin'." Marcibay shook his head, "T'ain't no use if thy make 'em than leave 'em to their own devices."
Clow stared at the two; he knew that Hilligans was right; the man was always completely practical in his advice. However he had created the spirits to be free and individual, he didn't want them to be the average warlock's familiar, he wanted them to be original, and couldn't bear the idea of putting restrictions on them. Hilligans sighed; he had come to know that Clow hated making anything suffer. "Laddie. . ." he said softly, "It doesn't 'ave to be painful to be controllin'," he suggested, "It can be like somewhere for them t' sleep, hibernatin' I think they call it. Sum'en like a box, or an orb . . . or . . ." Hilligans looked up at Clow's study ceiling, he spotted the old leather case. "Or sum'en as simple as them or- fuddy-doe cards, that ye have. Nowt painful."
"Papers. . ." Clow corrected gently, "They're called Ofuduo papers . . ."
"Whate'ver Laddie," Hilligans shook the two giggling spirits, "Jus' keep 'em away from me horses."
Clow thought about what Hilligans had said, and had started to experiment with various methods of containment. First, he tried a box, but that didn't work because when he opened the box to retrieve one spirit, others would take the opportunity to escape. Next, he tried orbs, separate orbs for each of them. The glass orbs were no large than a marble when being carried, but would expand to fit the palm when taken out. While this was a reasonable method of keeping the spirits, and was very easy to use, it became increasing irritating to have to retrieve the glass ball once the job was done. He put a spell on the orb, to make it come back to him but after a while he grew intensely bored with it. Everyone did orbs of magic. It was accepted as the norm, and Clow was nothing if not an individual. He looked at his Ofuduo papers, Hilligans' last suggestion; the papers were flimsy and not exactly awe inspiring with their yellow and serious black Chinese characters. Clow sighed, and put the papers back. His creations would have to have a containment, but a containment that would do them justice.
"What do you think, Mister Hilligans?" Clow put his hands behind his head as he thought his question to his coach driver. They were on their way to the nearest town, as Clow felt the need to get away from the mansion for a while, besides Hilligans wanted a new set of tools and he wasn't prepared to have Clow magick him some. "Laddie," Hilligans thought back, "Thy art the stronger magician; thy creations must be thy own."
Clow stared out the window as they past the last gates of his property, the sight warped and stabilised as they pasted through the time barrier. "Besides," Hilligans continued as he pulled up the reins, "Thy 'ave the rest of thy life t' figure it out . . . thy mus'n't rush things like this, thy creations will out live thee."
Clow yawned, "True, very true."
-------------------------------------------
And now it's time for LEAVE IT TO DOCTOR MEGALOMANIA!!
Clow: Hmmm! I wonder what THOSE SPIRITS' containment might be?! Hmmm. . . Could it be--?
DrM: shh! We don't want to spoil the surprise!
Clow: surprise? Sheesh EVERYONE can see that it's going to be the Clow---
DrM: [make Clow disappear to the next chapter] sheesh spoil my fun Clow! Please feel free to babble and tell me what you think! Please R&R!!
I state for the record that, despite the fact I really, really wish I did, I don't own any of the official characters that will grace this story; it's all CLAMP's! Always has been, always will be! I *DO*, however, own Marcibay Hilligans and Hei-ying Reed!! I also own Mystrasa Kyree, and the dragon isn't mine, it's on loan from my good friend, the Blue Goo! And what the heck . . . I own the mansion as well! [Laughs] Also I don't pretend to have any Mastery over the language of Japanese or any clue as to correct grammatical structure. I put it in and hope it gets across the point I'm trying to make! And I don't pretend to be able to write any sort of accents so please don't hate me!
"Speaking"
*Stress/emphasis*
//Thinking//
In This Tainted Soul . . .
By Dr Megalomania.
Part Two: Tasks and Experiments
A few months later, the mansion was fully renovated, and incredibly Clow had done it all by himself, with the aid of magic of course. After he had fixed the house to his liking, the stairs now curled around each other, in a swirl, in the entrance hall, the light beach wood panelling had been switched to dark hard wood, and the fireplaces lit themselves now; Clow had placed the entire building and it's grounds under a very powerful spell. The spell held the property just out of the land's normal time, where a year passed for everyone else, a mere month passed for Clow, Hilligans and the Reed mansion. Hilligans agreed to live on the grounds and asked to take care of the immediate garden surrounding the mansion. A year passed as Clow became used to his life within the mansion, before he started to experiment with his magic. At first he created little things, small sprites that would do modest chores when asked, he charmed a quill to write whatever he said, and spent hours just dictating pure nonsense to the thing, simply because it would write and write away. Hilligans found spades working diligently at his potatoes patch, and when he yelled at them to work someplace else, "Damned charmed pixies! Get thee out o' me 'tato space!" they went to the next task of working diligently at the carrot patch. "Laddie! Stop charmin' me work tools!" was often yelled up into the air, much to Clow's amusement.
Clow dug out his father's warlock robes, keen to look the part as well. After making some minor adjustments . . . "Laddie . . ." Marcibay eyed his robes once, "The symbols ain't thine own, and yellow most certainly ain't thy colour." . . . Clow had changed the yellow to a royal blue, and the dragon's head and the rose had been changed to a thin moon and half of the sun. Happy with the robes, Clow had decided against following family tradition of having a long wooden staff, with a thorny rose wrapping around it, and a dragon's head at the top, with a large crystal ball in the dragon's teeth. He created a small gilded wand for himself, which could be shrunk to the size of a key, for convenience's sake. It possessed the same slice of the moon and an extended sun. He laced a lot of magic with it, which would only respond to him, which was a good thing considering the move spirit that he had created. The small, invisible winged spirit was only capable of moving small things, and was highly irritating. It would often find his wand on his desk, and move it around very quickly. Clow had spent many an hour chasing after the wand, until he learnt that he had to stop and sense the spirit's next move. Yet Clow didn't have the heart to destroy it, he wished however that he had created some way of controlling it. Such was the case with many of the spirits he had created, the fifth and sixth floors of his mansion had been completely dedicated to the housing of these mischievous spirits, the ones that preferred to stay indoors would take over one of the many rooms; others, who preferred the outdoors, lived in the wilder parts of the grounds that lay just beyond Hilligans' much loved garden. Clow always walked down the corridors everyday to check on each of them. He'd stand in the doorway, and watch as the jump spirit and the floating spirit bounced objects around, or he'd watch the woody spirit grow an amazing jungle of increasing weird and wonderful trees, while the flower spirit, a beautiful spirit that took the form of a young girl, would display thousands upon thousands of exotic flowers. The spirit always dragged Clow into the room for a dance and to show him the latest of her displays. The flower spirit was one of his particular favourites, she was beautiful and would always be ready for a good time, but when he wanted to talk to her, place his hand against her cheek, her single mindedness would show through and she would repeat her magical display.
Clow would often look at his creations and wish that he could actually talk to them, only a few had voices, like the singing spirit and the echo spirit. Both could talk or sing, but neither could hold a conversation. He had tried to create a spirit for pure light and accidentally created a spirit for pure darkness at the same time. While both these spirits could talk, they were only interested in talking to each other. Clow stared into the room that they inhabited, illumination and shadows swirled like oil and water shaken in a glass. Again the display beautiful, but single minded. He retired to his study, only to find the moving spirit had acquired the services of the floating card. The pair had combined to rearrange his entire study. He laughed as he stared up at the ceiling. "My, my," he muttered, "You have been busy."
"T'ain't no laughin' matter, Laddie." Groused Hilligans, as the elderly man approached. He held the doubling spirits by the scuff of their necks in each hand. The two took the form a little girl and a little boy, both were identical except for their hair, one had pink, the other blue. Hilligans was dragging them to the study. "These two 'ave been at it again, now we 'ave *eight* horses . . . 'ow am I going t' care for *eight* horses?"
"I'm sure that we have more than enough food and we can build the extra stables." Clow smiled. Hilligans held the pair up, "An' what are thee gonna do wit' these two? Laddie, thy really ought to figure out a way t' control these things that yer creatin'." Marcibay shook his head, "T'ain't no use if thy make 'em than leave 'em to their own devices."
Clow stared at the two; he knew that Hilligans was right; the man was always completely practical in his advice. However he had created the spirits to be free and individual, he didn't want them to be the average warlock's familiar, he wanted them to be original, and couldn't bear the idea of putting restrictions on them. Hilligans sighed; he had come to know that Clow hated making anything suffer. "Laddie. . ." he said softly, "It doesn't 'ave to be painful to be controllin'," he suggested, "It can be like somewhere for them t' sleep, hibernatin' I think they call it. Sum'en like a box, or an orb . . . or . . ." Hilligans looked up at Clow's study ceiling, he spotted the old leather case. "Or sum'en as simple as them or- fuddy-doe cards, that ye have. Nowt painful."
"Papers. . ." Clow corrected gently, "They're called Ofuduo papers . . ."
"Whate'ver Laddie," Hilligans shook the two giggling spirits, "Jus' keep 'em away from me horses."
Clow thought about what Hilligans had said, and had started to experiment with various methods of containment. First, he tried a box, but that didn't work because when he opened the box to retrieve one spirit, others would take the opportunity to escape. Next, he tried orbs, separate orbs for each of them. The glass orbs were no large than a marble when being carried, but would expand to fit the palm when taken out. While this was a reasonable method of keeping the spirits, and was very easy to use, it became increasing irritating to have to retrieve the glass ball once the job was done. He put a spell on the orb, to make it come back to him but after a while he grew intensely bored with it. Everyone did orbs of magic. It was accepted as the norm, and Clow was nothing if not an individual. He looked at his Ofuduo papers, Hilligans' last suggestion; the papers were flimsy and not exactly awe inspiring with their yellow and serious black Chinese characters. Clow sighed, and put the papers back. His creations would have to have a containment, but a containment that would do them justice.
"What do you think, Mister Hilligans?" Clow put his hands behind his head as he thought his question to his coach driver. They were on their way to the nearest town, as Clow felt the need to get away from the mansion for a while, besides Hilligans wanted a new set of tools and he wasn't prepared to have Clow magick him some. "Laddie," Hilligans thought back, "Thy art the stronger magician; thy creations must be thy own."
Clow stared out the window as they past the last gates of his property, the sight warped and stabilised as they pasted through the time barrier. "Besides," Hilligans continued as he pulled up the reins, "Thy 'ave the rest of thy life t' figure it out . . . thy mus'n't rush things like this, thy creations will out live thee."
Clow yawned, "True, very true."
-------------------------------------------
And now it's time for LEAVE IT TO DOCTOR MEGALOMANIA!!
Clow: Hmmm! I wonder what THOSE SPIRITS' containment might be?! Hmmm. . . Could it be--?
DrM: shh! We don't want to spoil the surprise!
Clow: surprise? Sheesh EVERYONE can see that it's going to be the Clow---
DrM: [make Clow disappear to the next chapter] sheesh spoil my fun Clow! Please feel free to babble and tell me what you think! Please R&R!!