10 April 2023

I was thinking at work about random things, and then specifically about the genre of sci-fi. From there, I was thinking about dystopian stuff, specifically some of the stories I’ve read where clones both exist, and are either second-class citizens or not even considered human. Then I wondered, “What if twins were considered clones, since they have the same DNA, and theoretically have as much in common as a clone would?”

From there, I kept playing with the idea. The biggest hurdle was convincing myself that people, especially existing twins and families of them, would ever accept a law like that. (You could argue that people are capable of accepting some very terrible and obviously bad things depending on how and when they’re presented, but again, I had to convince myself first they would.) So I pulled in a galactic federation.

I have no idea what, if anything I’m going to do with this. But it was fun to write in a slightly morbid sort of way, and it has so much potential. We’ll see.

Tara remembered the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when she heard about the “clone regulation laws” the Galactic Federation mandated if humanity was to join. Ordinarily, they shouldn’t have been a big deal; enough people still had moral and ethical issues with the idea of human cloning, so it hadn’t become a thing.

The problem was, apparently none of the alien races in the Federation had a concept like twins. Some quirk of their biology, she guessed? On top of that, all of the Federation’s citizenship and ID was tied to biometric scans involving DNA. Therefore, legally, only one person with the same genetic code would be considered a citizen. Anyone else–like their identical twin–would be considered a clone, no matter how they were born or created.

By rights, Tara was safe, and wouldn’t have to worry about it. She was the older twin, and therefore could legally be considered the “original”. But Jessie was married, and she and her husband had just given birth to their first kid. No way was Tara going to take that away from her.

“But! It’s not right!” Jessie protested. “You’re a person; they can’t just take away your rights because some snooty alien jerk said so!”

“Apparently, they can,” Tara said, resigned. “You remember the Seattle incident, don’t you?”

Jessie closed her mouth. The whole world knew about the Seattle incident. Protesters had gathered not long after the announcements had been made, trying to protect the families this law would tear apart; maybe even get the government to reconsider joining the Federation. They marched on the alien’s embassy there; the aliens had panicked, and called in an orbital strike that vaporized four city blocks around them.

During the ensuing “formal apologies”, Tara had the distinct impression that the pompous bastard that was the Galactic ambassador didn’t actually give a damn. They mostly used the incident as a way to say that now the federation knew about our planet, joining them and all their laws was not optional.

Several moments later, Jessie finally spoke again. “What if you went into hiding? Just dropped off the grid somewhere. Southern Missouri, maybe?”

Tara gave her a wan smile. “If I don’t hand myself in, sis, what’s to stop them from saying you’re the clone instead? It’s not worth the risk. Let me do this. For you guys. Little Danielle especially.”

Jessie’s lip quivered, and it wasn’t long before she pulled Tara into a hug and started sobbing. “You’ve always been there for me,” she whispered.

“Just like you’ve always been there for me.” Tara squeezed her back. Right as they let go there was a knock at the door; the authorities had arrived.

9 April 2023

I tried figuring out what incident Tavala was referring to back in this post, so I tried to come up with something. A bunch of purists from the light-worshipping religion see Tirian as a threat now that his secret’s out, or impure, or what have you. So they tried to jump him in an alley. I eventually want to map out and write that skirmish, but it had to end somewhere relatively public where Gwen could intervene.

No idea who the gold-masked woman is that Gwen thought she recognized. This just seemed like the kind of story that had that sort of intrigue. (It’s not Katya. Ooh, but what if it’s another of their classmates? …Too much?)

There was a crash, and Gwen turned to see Tirian smash into the pavilion just a few dozen feet away. 

She was already rushing over as a handful of men and women in white robes poured out of the alley. They moved to surround Tirian, and between their weapons and their featureless gold masks, Gwen was more than a little unnerved. Not that it would stop her.

Gwen planted a foot on either side of Tirian’s bloody body and glared at the cultists. Her eyes began to glow as she drew in power. “You will not lay another finger on him.”

“But, my lady,” one siad, “he is shadow-tainted. It is only a matter of time before he slaughters some innocent. What’s more, he usurped your rightful position for years, and–”

“He didn’t usurp anything!” Gwen snapped. “He desperately tried to fill a role he was forced into. And he has control of his powers; he proved that already at the tournament!”

The first looked cowed, but another spoke up. Gwen thought she recognized the woman’s voice, but she couldn’t be sure. “My lady, I do not think you understand. He is tainted; no matter how strong, it is still only a matter of time before he loses control and kills us all. He–”

“He. Is. My. Brother!” Gwen shouted, flaring her powers. She put her hands up and adapted a combat stance. “And if you wish to kill him, you’ll have to go through me.”

For a long time, nobody moved. Then the masked figures slowly began to pull back, eventually drifting out of sight. When she was as sure as she could be they were gone, Gwen spun around and started checking Tirian over. She cursed again that her light powers were so offensively oriented and called out to the crowd that was gathering. “He needs a healer! Someone, please, fetch me a healer!”

3 January 2023

A lot of this was basically a result of figuring out who the rest of Nick’s family were, and wanting to show that off and how that impacted his head. In retrospect, the way I approached it and handled Elsenaia’s side of that feels somewhat insensitive to people who aren’t blessed with that kind of family… I’ll need to think of a better way to handle this in the future.

I’m also dissatisfied with the ending bit about loneliness. Sure, everyone has lonely moments. And if Nick’s were poignant enough to resonate with Elsie, that’s great. I don’t know that I believe that. It feels too much like someone who has a lot complaining about the little bit they’re missing. If it helps, Nick is the oldest, and as his siblings move on with their life he’s feeling a bit left behind, but A) that’s still a relatively small thing, I think, and B) I didn’t communicate that well enough regardless. Progress to be made.

As I passed yet another diorama of Elsenaia’s family, complete with her faceless self, I wondered just what her family life must be like. How sad must it be for “family” to mean loneliness and cold contempt?

Apparently, my musings affected what Elsenaia could see, because within my head I heard her gasp. Soon, instead of D&D sessions with my friends or bits of elf-centric anime, I began remembering times with my family. That time when Adam introduced us to Robin before they got married, and we played Apples to Apples. Or the time my sister Danielle actually won when we played Risk one day, and how ecstatic that made her. Some of the times Jake and I argued over the specific meanings of one word or another, or when Mom got after Jake and Danielle for sparring in the kitchen.

Not all the memories were happy–we had our fair share of troubles and arguments, too–but each one had a warmth I could tell Elsenaia craved. “Do humans really live like this?”

The question seemed odd, to me. “Every family’s different. Some are like yours; cold and distant from each other, too concerned about pride to care about love. A lot are way worse; there are whole portions  of our local governments dedicated to dealing with abuse and shattered homes. But yeah, this is real.” I mused for a moment, then added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if many of your own people had families like this. What was Tairsi’s family like?”

Eenaia had no response. The palace around me shifted, somehow, as Esenaia tried to withdraw, close herself off. Even so, I could still feel how raw and pained she felt. Lonely. Even with my upbringing, I could relate to that, in a way.

The image in my head shifted as I remembered Danielle’s wedding. Henry’s a great guy, and he and Danielle make a great couple, don’t get me wrong. But… still. I wanted to meet someone for myself, too.

When she noticed that, Elsenaia’s shell opened up a little. I was reminded of a scene in RWBY, where Weiss is talking with Blake. It’s the line, “You’re right; I don’t know loneliness like you do. I have my own version.”

29 November 2022

After I finished the draft on the 28th, it was hard to get motivated to put the same energy into writing, or specifically setting aside the time to write. It was as if subconsciously, I’d given myself permission to pursue other projects or pastimes.

Still, the bit between Hannah’s arrival and reunion with Aurora and her sacrifice always felt too short. So I chose to expand that scene, and give them more time together. It took me the next two days to finish it up. I also forgot Phillip; he’s definitely around somewhere. Maybe he’d stay away to give them more time together; maybe not. It still needs to be addressed regardless.

..request.” She gave Frederick a pointed look, and a quick glance at Rapunzel told him all he needed to know.

He grimaced, but the tension in his shoulders eased up. “Alright.” He dipped his head toward Maleficent. “Welcome to Lowenveil.”

Maleficent returned the bow, but she kept a wary eye on both Frederick and his captain of the guard.

As the tension eased up, the princess asked, “So… what now? I’ve never really been part of a family before. And not to be a stick in the mud, but I don’t have a lot of time…”

The air in the room turned frosty, until Isaac spoke up. “Whatever we do, I think we should do it here. I don’t want to waste the last few days we have with you traveling.”

Hannah nodded. “I want to get to know you. What has your life been like? What are your interests? Things like that.”

A small smile curled at one corner of Rapunzel’s mouth. “I’d like that.”

Over the next three to four days, they did all kinds of things. They played games, most of which were suggested by Isaac, and at mealtimes they took turns cooking together. Rapunzel and Hannah even sat and watched Isaac’s sword training with Frederick. Mostly, however, they just talked telling stories about everything from Rapunzel’s relationship with the Tower to the time Hannah caught Frederick sneaking down to the kitchens for a late night snack, only to join him.

A couple days after Hannah arrived, Frederick and Hannah found out Rapunzel could paint. “We should do a family portrait!” Hannah’s eyes twinkled.

Rapunzel looked away. “I’m, uh… I’m not very good with faces yet.”

Frederick shrugged. “Better than I would be.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t it be better to have a professional do it?”

Hannah shook her head. “I’d rather have yours.”

In the end, Rapunzel finally relented, and they found a good location for it. It took a long time; long enough Isaac was getting irritable. But in time Rapunzel finished it and presented it to her family.

“Like I said, I’m really not good with drawing people yet,” she said. And the painting had evidence of that; Frederick’s jaw was a bit too square, and Isaac’s nose wasn’t quite right. Rapunzel, in particular, was less than satisfied with it. The rest of the family, on the other hand, seemed quite impressed, although Isaac had to make the joke, “Definitely a heck of a lot better than whatever the heck it was you showed me in the Tower.”

Rapunzel scowled, and Hannah and Frederick laughed.

That night, Isaac had trouble sleeping, and decided to head outside for a walk. As he passed the room his parents were staying in, though, he heard his mother’s voice. “...The gifts a fairy-blessed child receives must be paid back, correct?” There was a pause, and then she continued, “Does she have to be the one to pay the price?”

Another voice, Maleficent’s, asked, “What are you suggesting?”

Isaac couldn’t help himself; he moved closer and peered through the crack in the door. Maleficent sat on a chair facing Hannah and Frederick. Hannah sat on the bed, while Frederick paced back and forth, an expression of consternation on his face.

Hannah said, “Well, if anyone can pay the price, couldn’t I take that burden for her?”

Isaac barely stopped himself from gasping and revealing himself. Maleficent herself seemed utterly in shock. She turned to Frederick. “And you’re okay with this?”

Frederick stopped. “I… no. Yes? I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair and turned to Hannah. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I am.”

Frederick sighed, then paused and turned to Maleficent. “Would it be possible for me to split the cost with her?”

Before Maleficent answered, Isaac crept away. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all; he needed to think.

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