![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
'Since when do you smoke?' he asked, curious. He too was leaned back in his chair, his feet up on the one across from him. The plastic table between them had a cheerful yellow and blue checkered pattern, the same colors as the bistro behind them. They hadn't ordered anthing, but felt it was just as good a place as any to sit and chat.
'It's a bad habit I picked up in Budapest,' she answered. He nodded. Both of them had picked up their fair share of bad habits over the many, long years.
'You went back to Budapest? After that mess back in...wasn't it '32?'
She shrugged, 'I figured I'd give the city another chance. It's been like...what? 80 years?'
He nodded, 'Give or take.'
'How about you?'
'Finally made it to Antartica.'
'No way. I don't believe you,' she said, showing for the first time, some real interest in the conversation.
He nodded his head, 'I promise. I did it. I figured you were right, I've been to every contintent on the bloody planet more times than I care to remember and I still haven't made it to Antartica? That's just stupid. So I bundled up, hopped on a fishing barge and went. Got back as fast as I could, but I can now say I've been there.'
She grinned, 'Well colored me impressed.'
'Yeep.'
Silence settled over them as they both thought about what else there was to say. There wasn't much. After a few centuries of traveling together on and off, they had pretty much talked about everything they were even remotely intrested in.
Suddenly, however, a new thought occured to the man.
'You know what this means?'
'What?' she asked, flicking away the last of her cigerette.
'The two of us have offically been everywhere. So...now what? Where do we go that we haven't already done to death?'
Both seemed a little horrified at the thought and the lack of forthcoming answer. The woman cursed under her breath and lit up another cigerette. The man reached over and wordlessly requested one, which she gave. The two sat in silence, both trying to come up with an answer to the problem they now faced.
Then, the woman remembered reading an article in New Science a few months back.
'We've never been to Mars,' she pointed out, a smile growing on her face. The man looked up from where he'd been glowering at his cigerette.
'...That is true...' he said slowly, the idea quickly growing on him.
She frowned, 'Altough it'll me we have to go back to school, again.'
He waved that off, 'Meh. We've suffered it before, we'll manage. I call MIT though,' he said quickly.
She pouted, 'Damnit. I hate astrophysics. Come on, let me do the math.'
'No way in hell. I'm taking the math angle, you take physics. Good luck.'
'I hate you,' she retorted, already shuddering at the thought of the years of physics classes she'd have to take. She'd probably end up going to either California or Hawaii for schooling. That wasn't so bad.
They were quiet again, mentally planning out the nessesary steps it would take to reforge some documents to make them current again, set up some their pasts, etc. She flicked her second cigerette away and stretched. He looked up at her.
'Hey, you think they'd let us make a pit stop at the moon?'
She laughed.
He frowned.
He'd been serious...
He knew this.
But he sure as hell didn't have to like it.
"Triple shot of Bondy, now," Jaden spat out at the bar tender who glared at Jaden. Jaden only narrowed his bright amber eyes, eyes that he knew unnerved most people he'd met. The bar tender was no exception. Jaden's order jumped the line, and within the minute, Jaden was sitting in a corner booth in the dim bar nursing his drink.
Jaden had never met anyone with eyes like his. He remembered his father having eyes of the exact shade, but other than him, no one. The young man had done some research on it, hoping that perhaps the distintive feature was unique to a certain people or planet. He'd had no luck. He'd gone back a hundred years in his research and found nothing.
Never found a place to belond.
So, much to his unfortunate luck, a place had found him.
Jaden did not like drug running. In fact he loathed it. In the beginning, he'd just been a punk kid, starving for both food and attention and had taken both where he could, no questions asked. But as time passed, and he grew wiser, Jaden came to hate the niche he'd found. There was no honor amongst these theives. They sold and bartered death and cared nothing for the consequences. That just wasn't something Jaden could make himself do, and much as it ashamed him to admit, he'd tried.
With a sigh, the lost young man laid his head on the table and prayed to gods that he never believed in.
~
Inu, age 152 not looking a day over 23, grumbled as he pushed his way through the dingy spaceport. Against his heartcode, he'd left The Notebook unattended in the docking bay. Without a doubt, if he could hear her, Jade would be tearing him a new one for leaving her precious ship alone. Even though he couldn't, his imagination was providing her rant in loving detail and volume.
"Are you insane?! Has your subroutines finally begun breaking down you accidental, boorish, contempteous, disdainful, egotistical, fucking guady, high-handed, insolent, jaded, know-it-all, laughable moronic nincompoop, ostentatious, pretentious, quite rampantly snotty, tedious, utterly vain, woefully xenophobic, yapping zany!!!"
And yes, Jade had indeed taken two hours with an online dictionary to come up with an insult that used all the letters of the alphebet. The first time she'd used it, on Tenchi, they'd had been far to busy laughing to even remember what she'd been pissed about.
But he tuned out one of his 'little voices' and continued to grumble to himself. It wasn't like he was leaving the ship behind for any particular length of time anyways. Just enough time to run a quick little arrand for Josiah.
Inu honestly wondered what the hell he was thinking when he promised his three girls that he'd 'take care of the kids'. Kids reproduce. And then those kids reproduce. And before he even knew what was happening, he was hononary godfather for what on most days felt like the population of a planet.
In reality there were only about 70 or 80, but still. He was only one cyborg!
Josiah Found had retired from the rouge business at age 42, but that didn't stop the man from keeping abreast with the going-ons in the galaxy. He had plenty of leverage on plenty of key figures to ensure that they stayed on the straight and narrow. Now age 65, he kept his side 'hobby' secret from his family, with the exception of his wife; and ask Inu to do most of the foot work.
Like dealing with contacts.
Which was what he was doing now.
Damnit.
152 years, and he was still a freakin' messenger boy.
His shock-white hair was cropped short this decade, like it had been in the beginning, with the exception of the bangs that framed his face. He was wearing his usual casual clothes, simple pants and tee-shirt with a vest over top. A belt was slung around his hips holding his blaster and his palm pilot which had an open channel to the ship, just in case. His thick black boots barely made a sound, not that anyone would be able to hear it over the noise of the crowd.
Desfintari.
He really didn't like this city.
Or this planet.
This was one place, the only place, that he had failed in his promise to the girls.
Aiden Nozuma. Jade and Tenchi's great-grandson, his wife, Cartia, and their young son Araris. Aiden had been an archeaologist, and had come to Desfintari to stay while he stuided the ancient ruins in the desert just outside the city.
What Aiden didn't know when he'd been invited on the dig was that drug runners on the planet used those ruins as storage for a lot of their shipments. He didn't know that the drug lords were perfectly willing to attack his young family to get him to leave. He didn't know that the day he stayed at the little flat they had rented for the months Aiden would be working, would be the day those drug runners sent their lackies to burn the flat to the ground, taking the small family with it.
Inu didn't find out until a week later.
The cyborg ducked into a dingy bar and scanned the occupants for his informant. He didn't see him anywhere. A quick glance at his chrono told him he was early. Inu took a seat at the bar, ordered a drink and settled down to wait.
The last time Inu had been to this planet was to collect the little family's remains to take them to be buried. There hadn't been much left of any of them. Barely anything of little Araris.
Inu accepted his drink from the bar tender and knocked it back in one great gulp. The burn of the acohol did little to distract him from the unhappy memories.
His informat suddenly saddling up on the next seat did though. They went through the simple motions. A chip of credits slid to the informants elbow, and a holochip in return. The informant left without a word and Inu waited for a count of a hundred before getting up, slapping a few credits on the bar and heading for exit.
A flash of bright and familiar amber caught his eye.
Inu turned, almost instinctively towards it.
There was a young man with hair black like pitch, long and unkept, that was staring moodily into his half empty glass with bright amber eyes.
There were not many people in the entire galaxy that had eyes like those. Even amongst Jade's decendents.
Inu found himself turning away from the exit and heading over to the table in the corner. He stood in front of it, and the young man looked up, his eyes wary and guarded.
"What?" he asked shortly.
The words came to Inu without so much as a thought.
"Where did you get eyes like those?" he said.
The young man's face twisted into surprise first, then into extreme caution.
"What's it to you?" he snarled.
Was there a point in lying? Inu wondered. Probably not.
"I knew someone with eyes like those. She was one of very few."
The young man blinked, surprised by that answer. Then something flashed in those bright amber eyes, a kind of hunger that Inu was familiar with. A hunger for home.
"...my father gave them to me."
Inu let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Your father's name?"
"I can't remember his first name. But his last name was Nozuma."
Inu knew that second chances could sometimes occur.
He just never thought they'd happen to him.
~
"What?" came the short reply.
"...I can't remember."
~
Karolin twisted a narrow strip of cloth around the second bend in her forefinger and returned to her weaving. Her callouses usually protected her fingers from blisters, but with the humid weather they were experiencing at the moment, it made it harder to handle the strings without pain. The woman blew a strand of dark blond hair from her eyes and re-focused on her work. She'd finished fourteen bracelets and twenty anklets already, but the sun was setting fast, and she had to have another six bracelets made before she could go home.
She expertly twisted the strands together in the simple, mind-numbing pattern and listened idley to the music coming over the ancient radio perched on the window sill. The other girls around her were chatting softly, only paying half attention to the actual conversation, Boss wouldn't pay them if there was so much as one flaw in any of their work. Karolin was sure that they only talked to pass the time just a little faster. She participated sometimes, when the loneliness got to her, which was rare.
Two more hours passed slowly, girls finished their work for the day, turned in their creations, collected their pay and left. Karolin finished just as the moon was beginning to rise, just in time to pick up some dinner before the markets closed for the night. She stoically turned in her work, waited for her tight-fisted boss to scrutinize ever knot in her work before grudingly handing her a handful of crumbled damp bills as payment. She bid the remaining girls goodnight and left.
~
The grocery bags weren't getting any lighter as Karolin made her weary way home. Her fingers, aching from work, pratcially screamed at the injustice of having to hold heavy bags. Karolin wished she could afford to take the AirBus to her neighbor hood, but she couldn't. Her money couldn't go to simple pleasures like that. An air skive screamed by, kicking up the dust and dirt, making her wince and curse under her breath.
Stupid kids.
She turned the corner and paused for a moment, using a convient low wall to rest her purchases on. She flexed her red fingers and looked at them with a sad sigh.
The suddenly out of the corner of her eyes, she saw something large and black flash from the sky to the ground.
CRASH!
Karolin jumped three feet in the air at the sudden noise, scared out of her mind. She whirled around, looking for the sorce, and found her eyes drawn to a dark ally off the main road, where the streetlights didn't go. A trash bin, rusted with age, rolled from the alley and into the light. Karolin heard a pained groan from within the darkness.
All insincts were telling her to grab her bags and make tracks in the other direction. But instead, for reasons unknown, Karolin felt her feet taking her closer to the alley.
Her eyes slowly adjusted, and she could make out the form of a man, laying sprawled amongst the trash bins and refuse. He shifted, and groaned again, startling Karolin all over again.
"S-Sir?" Karolin whispered, almost to quietly to be heard. The man managed to lift his head, only a little. His eyes looked black in the darkness.
~
"I saw you fall out of the sky," Karolin told him matter-of-factly as she banadaged his ribs despite his pained protests. His black hair was limp and unkept and he couldn't get it to keep out of his eyes. Bright, bright, amber eyes.
"Yea, well, that tends to happen if someone shoves you out an airlock mid-flight," he hissed at her, clenching his fists to keep himself still. He didn't like anybody near him. It just went against all the instincts drilled into him since he was just another rat in the street.
"Are you going to tell me why someone would shove you out of an airlock mid-flight?" Karolin asked.
He just glared at her in a sullen silence.
~
The only reason he hadn't managed to leave yet, was because it hurt to damn much to move. That was his story and he was sticking to it.
It had nothing to do with the way she sang under her breath as she cooked for the two of them. It had nothing to do with the way her dark blond hair lit up gold in sunlight. It had nothing to do with her dark blue eyes that made him think of great stretches of open sea, a sight he'd never seen but despertly wanted to for some reason.
It had nothing to do with any of that. It had nothing to do with his only recollection of his father, telling him with much amusement as he watched his mother with their twin bright amber eyes, "Nozumas love on sight and forever, kid. I apologize in advance."
She worked in the day, making it home sometimes as the sun was setting or later, and they would talk as she cooked dinner. Then maybe turn on the HoloNet to listen to the news for a bit while they ate. She'd pull out her huge selection of HoloNovels and they'd read. He'd never really gotten the chance to satisfy his hunger for literature. They didn't excatly hand out library cards to street rats.
Time passed. Days. Then weeks. Then a month.
He could move now. He did the shopping for them, so she could come straight home without worrying about it. He did odd labor jobs around the neighbor hood in the day - weeding for an elderly woman, painting a house, re-shingling a roof - little things he could get away without attracting attention.
She never asked why he never went further than the neighborhood boundries. And he was thankful.
~
He told her that he didn't know his first name. He couldn't remember it. So he'd picked out one long ago from some HoloDrama that he'd seen on the streets: Jaden.
"Why that one?" she'd asked.
He shrugged in response, "Don't know. I just felt...attached to it when I heard it."
Karolin let it go, somehow knowing he didn't want to say more. But in the silence, he'd spoken anyway.
"I have only one memory of my life before the streets: my dad watching my mother," she had the feeling he was leaving out something, but let him leave it out. "He looked alot like me. Same hair, and eyes."
"You don't know what happened to them?" she asked. He knew his last name, surely he could have found out what...?
"No. I don't. There's nothing on Nozuma that I could ever find anywhere. Not even in the GP records that I...er...nevermind."
~
Four months.
That was all he got.
Four months.
They'd found him again. And now, they had more than just his life to threaten.
They knew about her.
Jaden closed his eyes, and just sat, slumped on the stoop outside their flat. Their flat. He loved to turn those words over and over in his mouth. Still did. Despite that it wouldn't be that way much longer. Soon, he realized as the sun slipped further past the horizon, soon it would be back to her flat. Just hers.
He opened his hands and looked down at the hypodyermic needle that rested in his palm. It wasn't any bigger than his middle finger, and the liquid inside just looked as clear and as harmless as water. But no. It was a poison. It was a poison that would save her and kill him.
~
Karolin 'borrowed' some extra thread about a week ago and had worked sneakily on her present for Jaden. He didn't know when his birthday was, and had never found a reason to pick one, so she had done it for him. Tomorrow. She couldn't get him anything, she didn't have the money to do so. So she 'borrowed' thread from her employer (and didn't feel the least bit guilty about it either, bastard) and made him a bracelet, like and unlike the ones she made all day everyday. Like those because it was the same pattern, and unlike those because this one was for him. And that just made it different somehow.
It was almost finished. Just a few more rows. As long as she managed to fit in a few minutes tomorrow sometime, it would be done and she could take it home to him. She wanted to give it to him. Wanted to give him something tangiable. Wanted to just...make him happy any way she could.
Wanted...something she didn't quite dare to name just yet.
~
The flat was dark when she got home. And it unnervered her a little. He was always waiting for her.
And he was.
A dark and heartbroken look on his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to her. She didn't move as he took several long legged strides across the room. She didn't move when he reached for her, when he grabbed her.
"You're leaving," she whispered.
"Yes," he answered.
"Oh," she said, unable to form words while her heart broke in her chest, "will I see you again?"
He smile was pained, "Probably," he held up the needle, "but you won't know me."
She stared in horror at the thing in his hands. "Where did you get that? What is that?" she asked.
"A memory-wipe drug, invented about 150 years ago by the GP to solve a pest problem. Or at least, that is what I've heard," he said, trailing off.
"I won't remember you?"
He shook his head.
"At all?" her voice becoming shrill.
He shook his head again, and held her up as she began to tremble in his arms.
"W-Why?" she asked, her voice cracking as tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Because they've told me too," he answered.
"Why are you following them?" she demanded.
He looked at her solemly. "Because they know about you," was all he said. What else could he say? She deserved the truth, even if she'd never remember it.
She looked up at him, her eyes huge as she understood what he meant by that. Silence settled on them. Sirens in the far distance, and the hum of the refridgerator in the background only seemed to emphasis the silence between the two of them.
"Kiss me," she ordered, there was no request in her voice at all. He started in surprise.
"You won't remember," he said helplessly.
She looked up at him, her blue eyes dark and stormy.
"But you will," she answered firmly. Without waiting for a response she pulled him down to meet her. He dropped the needle, and wound his arms around her tight and kissed her with all he could manage. All he could feel. All he could hold. She responded in kind.
Time passed.
He was gone by midnight. And left nothing behind.
Not even memory.
~
It was a week before the hospital released her and she could go back to work. That nasty fall down the stairs had not only robbed her of the past four months of her life, but a weeks worth of wages too. Karolin was convinced for days that she'd be out of house and home, but miraciously, she had a small emergency fund stored up in her savings account. She must have saved it during those four months she couldn't remember.
She went back to work, and was greeted by the other girls who all asked after her health. She assured them she was fine, and quickly got to work, the Boss was watching with his shrewd eyes and wouldn't hesitate to fire her on the spot for lolly-gagging. He'd almost not let her return after being in the hospital.
She sat at her spot and opened up her work basket. There on top, was a nearly finished bracelet. She looked around quickly, worried, and confused. She never left work unfinished, it was against the rules and would mean her job. At least, that was what she remembered...so why?
The colors were familiar to her somehow, and she felt a sort of...fondness for them. Especially with them twined together as they were: black, amber gold, ocean blue, and a dark yellow-blond.
Her heart ached with an unknown, unclear, unvoiced want.
"What's the matter with you, Karolin? You need to start working, the Boss is watching," one of the girls hissed.
"...there was something I wanted..."
"What?" came the short reply.
"...I can't remember."
~
I landed without so much as a whisper, an act perfected from long practice. I folded my skeltal wings back behind me and felt as they fanished from sight. Strightening from my crouch, I tugged the bill of my cap lower to hide my features. Then I walked from the darkened alley with no one the wiser as to how I got there. I seemlessly joined the flow of pedestriens walking on the damp street, ignoring the faint drizzle.
I knew where I was needed this night, checking my watch I noted that I was making good time. There was a small part of me that wanted to rush, to arrive early, to prevent what was occuring at this moment and perhaps perserve just one soul. But I didn't. I kept my pace measured and relaxed; I would not hurry. I would not rush. That small part of me that cried against my actions died just a little more. They say that faith is easy to break. But I know from experience that while it's easy to break, it's hard to destroy.
I turned a corner and nonchantley entered the slums of the city, no minding at all the wary looks and dark intentions that were directed at me. The boarding house that I wanted was half way down the street. I walked up the steps, ignoring the screams that tore the air. I passed through the delapidated and filthy halls, stopping at a door that had once been painted blue. Now, it held only traces of that color, just barely visiable underneathe the dirt, grime, blood, and pain of years long passed. The screams that I had heard previously, came from behind this door. Now they had fallen to whimpers. I checked my watch. I hadn't meant to be, but I was early. My hand went, uninentintionally to the door handle and almost turned it. But I managed to stop myself in time.
They say that evil only wins when good men and women do nothing.
I am not good.
I wait.
There is a sharp and small cry from behind the door, then the faint, sickening snick of metal sliding into flesh. A stolen and final gasp, then unnatural stillness. I check my watch. Now is the time.
I turn the handle and open the door.
There is a young boy, no older than 12 kneeling on the floor just inside the door. He is covered in both old and fresh brusies and wounds. he stares with cold and harsh eyes at the fresh corpse before him. A woman, made up with a beautiful dress and perfect make-up, laid out in front of them both. The only thing marring her apperence is the long thin kitchen knife in her throat.
There are no words that pass between us. He knows, just from looking at me what I am. For he has become the same. I offer him my hand. He reaches up, and takes it. The blood is still warm on his fingers, but I don't let my grip faulter. The touch of the red liquid ceased to disturb me eons ago. I pull him to his feet, and lead him from the apartment. We leave the building together, and walk down the dark and filthy street, both of us ignoring the looks the people present give us.
I never had the chance to meet this 'they' that always seem to spout such wisdom. I have always heard it: 'They say...', but have never known who this 'they' are. If I ever did meet them, I would give them a few more wise sayings to add to their collection. Then maybe I wouldn't exist. Maybe the once-child walking beside me wouldn't exist. I dislike my existance. I strive for a goal not my own. But I strive for it all the same.
I am not good.
"Beware the weapons you forge. For you may be forging your own death."
I may have been good once.
"Be careful of your halo. It can always slip down and choke your life away."
But my chance at being good was destroyed a long time ago.
"Demons are never born...only made."
- Music:Noose by Perfect Circle
It wasn't like he could just close his eyes and decide 'She's in the eastern United States' or anything like that. It was more like an inner compass, he traveled and he felt a pull in a certain direction. As a result, he had to first travel to the most western reaches of Europe before understanding that where he needed to go was most likely on North America. His plane landed in New York a day later and his inner arrow now pointed south. So he took a flight to Boston. Still south. D.C. Richmond. Raleigh. Southeast now. He looked a map on the wall behind the ticket booth and took a gamble on the city by the sea - Charleston, South Carolina.
The pull was stronger here so he figured it was safe to assume he was getting closer.
Even after all this time he was unsure what he was going to do once he found the woman that called him with his heart. It wasn't like he ever had an experience with situations like this, or knew anyone that did. There weren't many dragons left in the world, and they all had their hearts intact and were not all that interested in helping their brother recover his. Most of them were content in their underground homes, passing time sleeping and recalling days when they could soar through the skies unhindered. Sometimes they still did, cloaked with invisibility, but the air tasted of exhaust and most found it to spoil their trip and thus didn't bother.
Lukas got out of the cab that took him from the airport into the heart of the city. He paid his fare and began to walk down the street, paying little attention to his surroundings, focusing only on the pull in the empty part of his chest. His heavy black boots making little noise as he tread soundlessly over the uneven sidewalk.
He turned a corner and found himself facing a street of tall, older houses built very closely together. Each was painted a different color, but most had the same white trim. He hurried down the street, the pull getting stronger and stronger with each house he passed. Then, suddenly before the seventh house down, the pull stopped and instead the emptiness in his chest magnified to almost an unbearable amount.
He looked up, and in the window at the top of the house there was a young woman standing. She had been looking out, but the moment he looked up, she looked down. Their eyes met.
He'd arrived.
~
I was folding clothes. Something mundane and perfectly normal when I felt the necklace that had been hanging around my next for several days now burn hot against my breasts. It startled me so bad that I leapt from my bed where I had been folding my clothes, yanking my necklace from under my shirt and holding it up. I stared at it uncertianly before tapping it with a careful finger. It was cool.
From the corner of my eye, my window caught my attention. I turned to it and walked to stand before it. I had the top floor of this large old Charleston town house to myself, while the two floors below me were similarly divided into single apartments. But my position at the top, afforded me a nice view of the street and sidewalks. I don't know what cause me to, but I looked down. Just in time to catch a man's eyes as he looked up.
His eyes were new spring green.
And I knew, as I reached up to clutch the necklace around my neck, that he was my dragon.
~
- Music:Nightwish
"I need you to do me a huge favor," he said to me. I looked up at him startled and confused, after all, I had never spoken to, met or seen the stranger before me ever before. However, after getting a good look at him, I found that to be crime. Standing at a couple of inches above my own respectable 5'7" with thick long black hair and adorable mis-matched green and blue eyes.
For a brief moment, my hormones took control of my body and I knew he could have asked me to dig my heart out of my chest with a dull spork and I would have cheerfully agreed. But, my mind quickly wrested control back and I had to settle for raising one of my eyebrows in question.
"Do I even know you?" I asked, knowing I didn't but figuring it was as safe as an answer I could think of. He grinned at him, one corner of his smile kicking up higher than the other. My knees had the insane desire to knock together but I firmly told them no.
"No, you don't. But I still need a favor and I'm afraid you're the only one that can help," he said, looking slightly sheepish. I straightened from my position leaning against the oak bar, and put my drink down. My two friends, Laura and Charlie had stepped out for a smoke leaving me to guard our prime positions by the bar. The pub was pretty empty, but that was to be expected considering it was still early yet.
"Will this favor involve me breaking any of my bones?" I asked smartly.
He laughed, "No."
I didn't let him off the hook just yet, "My wallet?"
"No."
"My principles?"
"Uh...I don't think so...unless you're one of those Omish people..."
"I'm not."
"Then I think you're safe," he said, his lopsided grin returning.
"My pristine criminal record?"
"er...can we hold off on that one?"
I gave him my best asperated stare to which he laughed again before shaking his head and offering up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, I'll see to it that we stay out of the clink."
I was quiet for a moment, then pinned him to where he stood with a dead serious look.
"...my heart?"
His smile faultered, and changed from bright and joyful to something much deeper and more complicated. Bittersweet.
"...perhaps."
I mirrior his smile without meaning too. "What's your favor?"
"I need you to say 'yes' to a question I'm going to ask."
"Oh?"
"Yea, let me buy you dinner?"
I stared at him, with his mis-matched eyes and bittersweet smile. Was there even a choice? Probably. But I didn't feel like making what I knew would be the wrong one. I smiled brilliantly at him.
"Yes."
- Music:"Love Song" by Taylor Swift
It was her tone, more than the word that had me turning in the middle of the crowded Sunday market to face her. I wasn't even aware she was speaking to me until I met her eyes. But she was, and she bekoned me closer with one finger, the nail painted bright, neon purple. Curious, I left my sister's side and went over to her and her little stand of silver trinkets.
"What?" I asked plainly, half expecting some cheap sales trick, and half expecting something more.
She gave me a toothy smile that highlighted the lines around her eyes and mouth, making wonder at her purple nail polish and heavily made up face.
"You carry a destiny," she said, almost accusing. I managed not to flinch.
"Some would say we all carry a destiny," I said simply.
Her smile widened, "But not like yours, not as heavy."
"All burden's are heavy," I said, feeling a little of my irratiation seep into my tone. This was nothing that I wanted to speak of.
She let out a shrill cackle that I suppose was intended to pass as a laugh, "But not all destines are burdens!"
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. I resisted the urge to tap my foot and instead settled for rasing an eyebrow at her in what I hoped was a mocking manner. She calmed down and faced me once more, serious again.
"However, your destiny is a burden, isn't it? How did it go? The one called for, but who can never call. The one who saves, but can never be saved. Yes?"
I could not control my internal reaction to those hated words. But I managed to nod my head. Inside, I tried to stem the flow of hatred, loathing, fear, sorrow and guilt. "It's my...penance," I said stiffly.
She chuckled lowly, "Penance? For what I wonder,"
I wondered the same, really. All the time.
She turned and rumaged around in the basket behind her display case. She pulled a small wooden box from the basket, and held it out to me. The box was a dark reddish brown, and had been carved with runes of power that I recognized as ones intended to hide and conceal. I made no move to accept it, knowing better. She chuckled again.
"Smart. Smarter than I thought you'd be," she said. She opened the box herself and showed me the contents. There was a long silver chain coiled int he box, and on it rested a small cylintrical silver object that had a neck with a hoop atop it where the chain fed through. I still didn't touch it, instead I merely looked at her questioningly.
"Do you know the story of the genie in the bottle?" she asked.
"Sure, doesn't everyone?"
"What was the moral of that story? Do you remember?"
I was quiet a moment as I thought back to the story in question, then answered: "Be careful what you wish for, yes?"
Her smile this time was a real one, "Yes, excatly. I have a talent, you see. I can see wishes. I can see wishes, and I can see why people wish for those things. Which is why I can see the destiny you carry. Your wish pertains directly to it. Now while I have this talent, I can only very rarely do anything for anyone. I very rarely can grant anyones wish. I am not some genie. You however, I believe I can help. I can give you this."
I looked skeptically at the necklace, "Really?" I just asked, my voice dry.
She leaned in closer to me, her eyes suddenly intense. "You wish for a companion. You wish for a partner. Someone that you can lean on, depend on, count on. Someone to help you bear the burden you carry when it becomes to much. And we both know, despite what that bitch said, it does become to much at times. And while I am not positive, I believe this can answer that wish."
I looked at the necklace again. I disliked being transparent. Even if it was only because she had a special power of some kind. Knowing someones deepest wish is like knowing the person. It's something so deep and personal that it reveils far too much about strangers. I briefly wondered if the woman was even still sane. I didn't think I'd be.
"What is it?"
"It's a dragon's heart."
"A...dragon's heart?" I asked, unable to make any sort of connection. There were several things that came to mind that still fit inside that description. Such is the way of the magical world. And the world in general, really.
"Yes. A dragon's heart. Take this, and use it to call him."
"...call him? How do I do that? I don't know his name."
The woman just tilted her head to the side and reguarded me. "How do those that call you, call you? They don't know your name do they? They just close their eyes and...call. They pray. They hope. They wish. Wish my dear child."
Something welled up in me, trembling at the sound of her words. "I...can't. I can't call, you said the words yourself. The one called for, but who can never call. My burden, my...destiny keeps me from having what I wish for."
"So that bitch says. But she isn't as all knowing or as all powerful as she'd like to be, or as she claims. There are ways around her ultiamatiums."
That intrested me far more than anything she'd said thus far. "Oh?" I asked. She grinned at me toothily again.
"We humans exisit within her grasp. But there are those that do not. Those that she cannot touch, cannot influence," she offered up the box again. "The being that this belongs to, is one of them."
"A dragon?" I asked.
She shrugged, "It is what I was told. And I trust my source. If he says it is a dragon's heart, it is a dragon's heart," she said firmly.
I sighed, and looked at the necklace closer. It shone in the bright afternoon light. And I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards it.
"How much?' I asked.
She smiled again, "Free."
~
I sat in my car a couple of hours later. I had already dropped my sister off at her apartment and now I was sitting outside my own. I hadn't shown her the box, instead I had just taken it from the vender woman and stuck it in my leather back pack. Now I cradled the box in my hands, tracing my fingers over the runes. Tucking some of my unruly curly hair behind my ear I opened the lid and looked at the necklace again. Carefully, I picked it up and drew it out. Setting the box aside I held the small pendant up for a better look.
It was silver, just like the chain. No bigger than my thumb nail. It was shaped like a drum, with a little stem like neck extending from the side where the hoop for the chain was attached.
"A dragon's heart." I murmumered. I bit my lip and took in a shakey breath. "I...don't know how to do this...but I'll try. I've never heard of anyone who lives outside of Fate's influence. But if you do, I sure as hell would like to meet you. You see...I have this...destiny that I have to adhear to. And it's a heavy burden for me to bear. So...sometimes, well...all the time, I wish I had someone to help me. Someone I can...call on. Someone to..." my voice dropped to a whisper, "...save me. But, you don't have to be this person. If what I am holding in my hands belongs to you, was something that you lost or was taken from you, you can have it back. I'll ask nothing of you. Just...find me. I call on you, Dragon. Find me."
I stopped there, feeling foolish all of a sudden. I went to put the necklace back in the box, but halted. It was a necklace. It really should be worn. Slowly, and carefully, half expecting some sort of explosion I lowered the chain around my head and settled it around my neck. The chain was long, so long that the pendant settled between my breasts under my shirt. I left it there, and got out of the car.
~
Lukas awoke with a snap; sitting bolt up in his bed. There was no trasition from asleep to awake. He just suddenly was aware. And he knew immdiately why.
I wish I had someone to help me. ...someone to...save me... Taken from you...have it back. Nothing of you. Just...find me. I call on you, Dragon. Find me.
A woman's voice echoed in his room, carried to his senses by the will of the speaker.
Someone had found his heart. And was calling him with it. His silver-blue eyes narrowed at the thought. A trap? No...that didn't seem right. His hand went to his chest, where the ache was centered. His heart. He had begun to believe he'd always be without it. There was no question, even if his intincts were wrong and it was a trap, there was no way he could not go. This woman had his heart. He would find her.
Lukas quickly got out of bed and began to dress.
He'd figure out what to do when he found her later.
- Music:"Built for Sin"
"See? Your son has several markers present that are evidence of his caucasian heritage-"
"Yes, yes, my family remains one of the purest families in Oceania," the father said smugly. The doctor couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Yes, and this is perciesly the reason he's matched with someone of non-caucasion decent. Or atleast, not all caucasion decent. From her tests, I'm pretty sure one of her grandparents was white. Anyways-"
"She's a mix-breed?!" the father roared, this time, the doctor noticed that even the son, sitting on the examination table behind him couldn't stop from rolling his own eyes. The son had been just as shocked as his father when he'd heard the news. However, for the son, it seemed to be born more from disappointment than dislike or disgust. The doctor suspected, as with nearly all the young people that came in for their DNA compatibality tests when they came of age, that he had someone in mind for the the subject of his affections.
"Look, Lord Tennison, you may be proud of your 'pure' blood; but the fact of the matter is without devations, variety in DNA the very code begins to break down and flaws begin to appear. Essientally it is a kind of inbreeding that happens over a period of thousands of years. Why do you think we began this program in the first place? To ensure the children of the next generation are the heathiest and strongest possible."
The Lord sputtered in indignation.
"I'll appeal to the courts!" he roared, "Who is the next candidate on the list? I demand to know?"
The doctor sighed and paged through a couple of screens on his touch pad looking for the next possible match.
"A woman from the Downing district, named Karen Spikes. However, I wouldn't get your hopes up, she only shares a 48% compatibility with your son, while the first choice shares an 89%. That kind of matching is nearly unheard of, considering the odds."
"It doesn't matter, I helped write the laws! The courts will appeal this henious crim-"
"Father," the son said softly, but firmly. The red faced aristocrat stopped and turned to look at his son. The doctor turned his eyes to the young man as well, curious. The son was sitting up straight, his head held at an imperious angle some how managing to look every inch his upper class self despite his clothing being nothing more than a hospital gown and booties. The doctor hated to admit it, but he was rather impressed. "We will follow the laws, father. What is her name, Doctor, if you would tell me please?"
The Lord sputtered again, interrupting what the doctor was going to say. "The hell we do! Son! We're above the laws! We wrote them!"
"All the more reason for us to follow them!" the son spat, his disappointment in his father showing plainly on his face. "Our family needs a strong heir, father, and I am your only child. We need a strong heir or else our family falls. This program has been proven, this system works, not then, I would like to know my future wife's name,"he turned to the doctor, "please."
"I cannot let this stand! The Tennison family tainted by this foregin whore's blood!" the father roared, "she'll be the ruin of us all! You heard the doctor! She's one of the Colonial traitors! Captured working against our country!"
"And she's paying for it!" the son yelled back, finally beginning to lose some of his temper, "she's doing something productive and paying her due to the country!"
"She's nothing but a barbarian! You have heard what those wild people are like!"
The doctor gave a slight cough, drawing attention to himself, "Yes, acctually that's another reason that this woman may have such a high compatibilty with your family. You see, the House of Tennison is famous for its control over magics, where those born in the west are infamous for their lack of control of their magics. Recent studies have proven that the mixing of the two in a child have take the best of both and combined them into something much stronger than the sum of the parts."
"Oh shut up you quack! If you'd just taken the money I'd offered you-"
"That's enough!" the son roared, turning pale at his father's words. "Father, we will meet her. We will talk with her. We will see the kind of person she is, and we will withhold judgement until that time. At least, grant me that."
The father glared at both his son and the doctor before turning and storming from the room. As soon as he was gone, the son slouched on the table, and let out a weary sigh.
"My apologies, I had no idea he had attempted that. Usually I can keep him...can keep him from loosing him temper. Or trying to work things like they used to be."
the doctor nodded, "I understand. The old ways are hard to let go for those who are displeased with change. Which I find ironic with you father, as he was one of the men that brought about the change in our country," the doctor remarked. The son raised an eyebrow in question.
"You dislike the changes made?"
The doctor frowned, "I dislike giving up certain freedoms in the name of the greater good."
"But wouldn't you be willing to sacrafice for your fellow man?" the son asked, tilting his head to the side.
The doctor let out a bark of laughter, "Son, you'll find that people willing to sacrafice everything for their fellow man are few and far between. Humans are selfish creatures by nature. Just wait, you'll understand what I mean some day."
"Why is it that you elders say things like that and this write it off with an "you'll understand when you're older" comment."
"Because it's true," the doctor said with a shrug, "some things cannot be understood without experience. Now then, your wife-to-be's name is Makayla. Makayla Stella Wolf. You can find her at the Women's detention center in the evenings, but during the day she works as a librarian at the Public Library. She will be notifed of the match by the end of the week; it takes time for such news to filter to the nessary channels."
"If you don't mind me asking, why was she such a good match for me?"
"For several reasons, the magic being one, another is that with her foregin blood there is little chance of her carrying genes that would trigger the recessive genes you carry for several hereditary dieases."
The son paled, "I'm sick?" he asked, incredoulous.
"No, no, you just carry the genes for the dieases. The possibility for them, if you will. If you were to marry a woman that had the same recessive markers, then there's a good chance your child would end up sick. That's the main reason Ms. Wolf is such a good match, she has none of the recessive markers, thanks to her foregin roots. And you carry none of the recessive markers she has."
"oh," the son said slowly, "That makes sense."
The doctor nodded, "You have your touch pad with you? I'll trasfer Ms. Wolf's contact data to you."
"Thank you, I'd appreciate it."
"You know that saying, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'?" the older man asked, leaning back in his rocking chair with a silent sigh. The younger shrugged.
"Sure, why?"
"I'd be mindful of it."
"You really don't believe in that crap do you? Are you that hen-pecked, old man?"
The elder man just shook his head, this time in disappointment.
"Boy, I wouldn't mistake respect for hen-pecked. I respect my wife. I respect her before I loved her. And in the one in a million chance I happen to stop loving her, I'll still respect her."
"What for though?"
"What not for? I respect her for who she is, what she stands up for, what she believes in. I respect her for giving me children, for raising them. For taking care of me. And I know that she does the same for me. That's what a relationship is all about, kid."
The boy tried to pull of a scowl, but only succeeded in looking petulant.
"But she's just...just...a girl."
The elder laughed out loud.
"Boy, she may be just a girl, but let me let you in on a secret about girls and women. Within them, in their blood they carry the magic of our race. The ancient magics that have been lost to time and circumstance; they lay dormant in every girl child and woman. They wait, just waiting for their chance to be born again in all of us. So never underestimate a woman, because in her time of need she can tap into those magics and...whip your scrawny white ass."
I never thought I'd ever be an important enough person to get an autobiography published. I don't think that anyone ever really expects fame. There are always exceptions of course. But I guess I mean that those that come from humble means never think that what they do ever is anything that will mean fame. Or infamy.
My early memories are varied; and I can't tell which is my earliest. However, they all are of playing with my cousins and little sister. Without a doubt, it is those years that made me believe in magic, and made me the person that I am today. The one with the over active imagination. All of our days were filled with sunshine, even the rainy ones, because that was just who we were.
My teenage years were ones spent as a perpetual loner. However, it was during those years that I developed my love for reading. Besides, I don't really think I missed much. My peers were not very impressed with me, and believe me, the feeling was mutual. I didn't like being a lone wolf, but I disliked 'hanging out' with children my age more. They struck me as vain, shallow and vapid creatures far too pleased with themselves. So, I strove to make myself anoynomous to them, and succeeded.
High school changed things. It was a bigger pond, and suddenly I had access to people who operated more on my frequency. Also known as the weird. I throughly enjoyed fitting in with my fellow misfits. We had our own click and even though others never believed us to be more than strange and abnormal, we believed we were the ones that brought color to our drab little world. Looking back on it, I have no doubt we were full of ourselves, taken by the whole us against them mentality; but at least it made the days interesting. It was during my sophmore year, after being encouraged by two of my good friends that I would start to write.
College was a strange time for me. I left behind all of the wonderful friends I had made in high school. I spent most of the three years between aquantiences and a love affair with fanfiction. I was chained to my laptop and the library; and amazingly had no problem with it. I discovered that I wasn't cut out for large crowds and was most at home amongst a small group of close friends. For awhile I questioned myself; wondering if I was depressed or if my intrests were unhealthy. In the end, I just settled down and understood that the reason I didn't see people like me was because like me, they didn't go out much.
All that is nothing much. It isn't anything special. And yet, who knows, tomorrow something extraordinary might happen. After all, every day that passes adds a new shade to my life. Every experience that I add to my life brings another color. And unfortunately, you as a reader won't be able to know those. Because in the rather large amount of time between finishing this and it being published, so many shades and colors have been added to me, and had undoubtably changed how I see things. But what can we do? That is the down side to entering someone's life like you are. Jumping in to a life, already proceeding forward.
"Hello, my love," he crooned softly. She seemed a little agitated, her feathers ruffled and unwilling to lay down. "Is there anyone in the forest I should know about?" He asked. She suddenly took off, startling him. Worried, he urged his horse to follow the hawk. Quickly, the brambles of the forest became to thick for his horse, he dismounted and struck off on his own, creeping silently after his hawk.
Several yards into the thick tree line, he spotted Nixie, perched in an ancient and enormous oak. It was the mother of the surrounding forest, he just knew it. Nixie let out an annoyed squwak and he was surprised when her noise was answered by a canine whimper. He walked silently to the tree, then around his expansive base to the other side, where, surled up in a tight ball in between the roots lay a black and grey wolf. At his gasp, the wolf looked up, its green eyes wide in the filtered moonlight. The same moonlight that hightlighted the white fletching of the two arrows in its side. Overhead, Nixie gave a mornful cry and winged off into the night, her job done.
Slowly, he came to kneel by the wolf, still several paces away. Animals that were wounded were far harder to approach than those that were healthy. To protect itself from further harm, an animal will lash out at anything that moves. But in this case, the wolf simply seemed wary, not at all feral or frightened. With patience that had always been his gift, he inched closer and closer, always making sure to keep his hands visible, and to make no sudden movements. The wolf just watched. Never making a sound.
Finally, the great animal turned its head and relaxed. He took this as a good sign and approached close enough to eximine the wounds. The arrows weren't deep, but they were in dangerous places. He touched the wolf's ears, gently tracing their edges with his calloused fingers. Its fur was soft there, cold as well. The wolf sighed.
~
She came and went as she pleased. His she-wolf. After caring for her, and returning her to full health, she stuck around. He noticed that she never strayed too close to the city. And that she never came close to the sheep pastures, or the trails in the forest. The only time she approached such places was when he was there. And even then, she always flitted in and out of the shadows, just enough to alert him to her presence before disappearing once more. She and Nixie got along. It was strange, but he wondered if Nixie shared with her what the hawk did for him. For it wasn't long after she was healthy again that the wolf began bringing to his attention things that a scout should know. Arthur didn't question the sudden influx of information about his lands, things that were happening too far for him to know personally. But he knew his king was curious. Still, he continued. He would go out on his horse, and there she'd be. Sometimes, Nixie was with her, sometimes not. Then she would take off, a ghost amongst the foilage of Britian's great forests, him following close behind.
It was several months later that everything changed.
He, Nixie and the she-wolf were all traveling south. He wasn't sure why just yet, but he knew that there had to be something. Nixie was leading this time, the wolf was just along for the ride. He found that he enjoyed her company. For one thing it meant that he didn't have to worry about being attacked while he slept. The wolf always woke him if she heard anything. Tonight was different. She seemed nervous. But Nixie was perfectly calm, perched with her head under her wing on a low branch. In the past, if something was afoot, both of them, along with the rest of the animals, his horse for instance, were restless. Now, it was just the wolf. Confused, but confident, he turned in for the night. Rolling himself in his blankets, he turned with his back to the fire so as to perserve his night vision should he have to awake quickly. He dropped off.
A branch snapped.
He opened his eyes and tensed. His horse was standing under the tree not far from where he lay, still and unmoving. Nixie was still on her branch, awake, her eyes staring intently at something behind him. The wolf was no where he could see. His hand tightened on the long knife he always slept with and with a snap, rolled himself to his feet and faced whatever it was behind him. What he found, was nothing he expected.
A woman.
Her head was bowed, and she was sitting on a log before the fire. Her long black hair formed a curtain, and he could see nothing save the top of her head. Around her shoulders was a dark grey cloak, his cloak he realized belatedly. Further inspection brought the suspision that she was bare benethe it as well.
"Who are you?" he asked. But he knew it was a stupid question. The wolf was gone. And this woman was not. He may be a forginer to these lands, but magic was something that each land had. It was slow, but she raised her head and met his eyes with her green ones. The wolf's green eyes.
"I suppose then, the better question would be...what are you?" he said quietly, relaxing a little, but not letting go his knife. He had been around her for a long time by now, if she wanted him dead he had little doubts that he'd be dead. Besides, he trusted Nixie, and his horse. And he trusted her.
"My name is...Moira. I'm human...but I was...cursed when I was a child," she whispered.
"Cursed? By who?"
"One of the mages of Avalon. She believed my father slighted her. Weither that is true or not, I do not know. All I know is that she cursed me to punish my father. My family disowned me not long after, only my sister tried to help me."
"The arrows?" He asked.
"A hunter. He tracked me, thinking I killed his chickens. He was far away, I thought too far for a bow," a wry smile crept across her lips, "I was wrong. But I cannot regret it, as it brought you to me."
"Nixie?"
"She found me. Told me that she could bring me help if I swore not to harm her master. I told her not to bother. Your hawk is very stubborn."
He looked over his shoulder at the hawk in question, who had puffed up her feathers in response to the she-wolf's words. Moria's words.
"And these past months?" he asked.
She shrugged, "I felt the need to repay you. Nixie told me about what you do for King Arthur, I decided to help as I could."
"Where to you live?"
"Where I can. I've managed a small home deep in the woods, not far from where you found me. When I am not traveling around, I stay there."
"This...curse. How does it work?"
Again, she shrugged, this time though the cloak slid from one of her shoulders, reveling pale skin. She didn't nothing to fix it, making his throat go dry. The ladies at court who fawned over the knights of the round table were mostly vain, and vapid creatures. Wrapped so heavily in layers and layers of silks, and cloths it was a wonder they could walk, much less spend all their time gabing at each other.
"I have yet to understand it. There seems to be little pattern to it. I only know two things for sure, one is that I must spend at least part of the day as a wolf. If I do not the change is forced on me and it is painful. The other is that on nights when the moon is full, like the one when we met, I cannot change into a human no matter how hard I try."
"But that means that you can spend most of your time human, does it not?"
"Yes. But...after living in the forest as a young child, having to survive as a wolf or not at all, I find that I am more comfortable in that form. I am faster, stronger, and more aware. I have tried to live as a human, but someone always discovers my secret, and I am chased from my home, sometimes beaten or stoned. So I stopped trying. The forest shelters me."
"Why show yourself to me?"
She smiled at that, it was lopsided, but he found it endearing.
"Nixie. She said you'd understand and not judge me for what I am. She said that you would help me. And...I find that I did not enjoy lying to you, even if it was by omnission."
"Help you? With what?" By now he had come to sit across the fire from her, putting his knife away.
"I survive, but it is a near thing. There is no wolf pack that would accept me, they can tell I'm human. And sometimes I wish I had a fellow human with whom I could talk too. I do alright on my own, but loneliness affects me just as much as anyone else."
They sat there in silence for a long moment, then she spoke again. "Nothing has to change; I am still happy to help you and Nixie. But if it is alright with you, when we travel like this, may I do so sometimes in this form?"
He looked at her, his dark blue eyes searching her green ones. It was different, he decided. Sleeping around a group of animals was one thing, but this? However, it was still the same being he'd been traveling with this far, just a different look.
In the end, he knew that he did not wish her to go. And he did want her to be happy.
"I do not see why not."
She smiled her crooked smile. His heart jumped.
~
They were several days travel from the Camelot. Arthur was no doubt starting to worry. He needed to finish with this place and start traveling back, soon. He waited, crouched in the low brambles underneathe a sky thick with stars. In the distance he heard the sound of several bonfires, and loud singing. All Saint's Day. November would come swiftly now, bearing winter on its back. He did not fancy traveling through a snow storm.
Nixie arrived on silent wings, breaking him from his thoughts. She was followed by Moria's form, as she slipped into the brambles and crouched down next to him. The two then made their careful way back, not stopping until the sounds of the night festival had ceased. They stood in a field of tall grass, glowing silver by the light of the nearly full moon. Moria's hair was tied in a long braid, colorful ribbons woven into it. He'd done it himself. The gown she wore had been "borrowed" from a farm wife's clothes line, and was too large for her. But she had laughed him off, and used his belt to tie the extra around her waist. It showed too much of her feet and ankels to be fashionable, as she was too tall for it. Despite these problems, she looked rather...bonny in it, he felt. The gaping neck showed off the pretty lines of her collar bones and broad shoulders. With his belt around her waist, her hourglass figure became clear. She looked rough around the edges, a little wild, and absolutly beautiful.
"What did you learn?"
"Much," she answered a little breathlessly. They had found after working together for a little over a year now, that she was the best suited to get information from people. No one ever expected the slightly dim witted country girl. And after over half a year around her in her human form, he knew she was anything but.
"The Saxons are deffintly trying to gain support here and in the coastal areas. But they are having little luck. I heard over a dozen toasts to King Arthur's health in just the hour that I was there. People here are content with their King. The Saxons are having no success."
"But they are here. That is enough to worry me. Did you discover where they staying, or where they go next?"
"I know that they are going back to the coast to meet more of their friends. My guess is that they are going to compare what they've learned, and try to team up against the areas that show the most promise."
"Any idea of where these areas are?"
"Same ones as always, the areas with Saxon blood."
He sighed and rubbed hsi forehead. He thought about the problem for a while, then whistled for Nixie. She swooped down, perching on his outstretched forearm.
"Head back to Camelot, NIxie. Don't let Arthur worry about me."
She bobbed, and took off. They watched her go, then turned to leave themselves.
"What are you going to do?" Moria asked, falling into step next to him, easely pacing him, despite his longer strides. He noted her bare feet with a small smile.
"I do not know yet. I will tell Arthur and hope he has new ideas. We cannot try to intimdate these people, that only serves to make them sympathize more with the Saxons. But we cannot seem to favor them either, for that is not fair to other areas, and they will know it."
"So we keep watching."
"Yes," he sighed, "We keep watching."
They walked in silence, returning to where he had left his horse.
"Tristan?" she asked suddenly, he grunted, showing he was listening.
"Nixie told me that you are not from these lands, that you are from far away. Is that true?"
They had been traveling and working together for over a year, but that didn't change that he was very private about his past. She had understood and respected that, until now.
"Why do you ask?"
"I was curious as to what makes you stay here."
"Why?" he asked again.
She was quiet for a moment, then, "Because I do not wish you to leave."
He stopped up short, turning to face her, surprised.
"Why do you think I would leave?"
"Because I do not know what makes you stay."
They stared at each other, but she was pacient.
"Arthur. Arthur makes me stay. I...gave the man my loyalty a long time ago and he has always honored it in return. He is a good man, and a good king."
"Have you no love for the land?"
He paused, unsure how to answer that, so he stalled, "It is always wet."
She laughed, something that she rarely did, and he cherished each time. She did not ask for anything more, but turned and went back to walking. He hurried to join her.
"Is Tristan your real name?" she asked suddenly. "I can't imagine so."
"No...Tristan was given to me when I first came here. I was a boy, and took the loss hard, but I overcame it."
"What was your name?"
"I have forgotten."
She froze, her eyes wide. He turned to look at her, confused.
"You have never lied to me before, why do you start now?"
He winced. Wind combed through the tall grass, bending it, but not breaking it. He took a deep breath.
"Achaei. That was my clan name. The name my mother gave me was...Shora. Shora of the Achaei."
She smiled, "I'm sorry if I made you remember something unpleasent."
"No," he shook his head, "I just don't like to think about it."
She nodded, and they continued walking.
"You wonder if you dishonor yourself by staying here and not returning to them."
He stopped, but she kept walking. He stared after her, dumbfounded.
No one else ever saw through him like that...
~
Arthur was worried about one of his knights. Tristan was acting quite out of character. Which in itself was something quite strange. His other knights noticed as well, but none knew how to approach him about it. Tristan wasn't acting badly, or anything like that, but his demenor had subtly shifted. When around him before, people often got chills, he just seemed so cold and unfeeling. But that had changed. His smiles were no longer empty smirks, but often smiles that held some warmth in them. But it was his eyes that gave him away. Dark blue that had always seemed to hold nothing. Now they held something, something that sparkled when he thought no one watched.
Perhaps Arthur would get a chance to talk to him now that they were out of court for the spring hunts. He knew that Tristan did not like the court, espically the court women. Not that Arthur could blame the man, some of those women were just...frightening.
Despite his knights' insistance, Arthur had taken one of the night watches. And it was then that he spotted Tristan stealing out of the camp, as if drawn by something. Arthur hoped it wasn't the lone howl of the wolf he had heard earlier. But somehow, with Tristan he wouldn't be surprised really. Silently, Arthur rose and followed his knight.
Tristan awoke at Moria's call. He had immdiately rolled from his blankets and into his clothes, exiting his tent quietly. He slipped from the camp and into the surrounding forest. Tucked under his cloak, he had a bundle of clothes for her, so neither of them would have to be cold. Her because she would be wearing nothing but his cloak, him because he would be without his cloak. He came upon her, shivering a little, but shamelessly standing in the open, naked as the day she was born. He quickly shook out the cloak he'd brought, wrapping it about her shoulders, then picking up the dress he'd bought for her. Well, dress was a strong word. It was really more a shift, something that she could easily slip in and out of. He held her cloak while she slid into it, and settled it about her shoulders, then took back the cloak and slung it around her shoulders. Tristan rolled his eyes, and pulled the wings forward, wrapping the heavey material around her tight. Then he pulled up the hood. She smiled at him gratefully, brushing her wild black hair from her face.
"News. Important news. Those Irish spies you've been worrying about? Yes well, they've just landed on the Welsh coast, a hundred miles from here. I think they aim to spread out through that area before making their way north. They can blend in better there."
"You think they want to stir up trouble with the Scottish clans?"
"I would if I were them."
"You came from there directly?"
"Yes."
"You must be exhausted."
"You need to know. Arthur needs to know."
"Will you be alright tonight?"
"I'll survive."
"That wasn't what I asked."
"What would you recommend then?"
He sighed, a little asperated with her. "Come stay in my tent tonight, you can slip our before dawn."
"The knights?"
"You've remained unseen in more heavily guarded places."
"Of course, the people, the more lax they get. This is different. I would be hard pressed to remain unseen in a camp full of highly trained warriors."
"I don't want you staying out in the cold tonight."
"I'll be alright, Shora. Please just-" she froze and looked fearfully over his shoulder. He whirled, his hand falling to his sword, only to be faced with his King.
"Arthur..."
"Who's this, Tristan?" Arthur asked, pleasently, striding out from the tree line where he had been standing. The three were silent for a heartbeat, then Moria suddenly bowed low.
"My name is Moria, my lord. I help Sir Tristan in his information gathering."
"And how long have you been working with him?"
A pause, then, "For close to two years, sire."
"Tristan?" Arthur asked.
"I...helped her, sire. I came across her, wounded, and helped her. In return, once she was able, she offered to return the favor by helping me with what I do for you."
"And it's been two years?"
"I value my life highly," Moria remarked cheekily. Arthur couldn't help but smile.
"As do I, Lady Moria." Arthur replied.
"Oh no, sire, just Moria. I'm no Lady."
"Be that as it may, I agree with Tristan, you cannot stay out here. In fact I have no idea how you would manage it. You will have to come and spend the remander of the evening in our camp where it is safe."
Moria gave Tristan a dry look, he just narrowed his eyes at her.
"It seems I have been out numbered. Please, lead the way."
Tristan made sure that she was bundled up inside his tent. She just smiled her crooked, happy smile at him and shooed him out. He brushed a lock of black hair from her face before doing so.
Arthur was waiting for him before the fire.
"Is she the reason you smile more?" Arthur asked, knowing that nothing short of bluntness would get an answer from him. Tristan shrugged his shoulders.
"I enjoy her company far more than the ladies at court."
"Who is she excatly?"
"An orphan of sorts. She was living in the forest, wild."
"Perhaps that is why you like her."
"What do you mean?"
"You two are similar. I've only just met her and I can feel it in you both. Both of you have a little bit of the wilderness in you. Do you love her?"
"In the way a husband should love a wife?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Oh," Arthur said, a little surprised.
"I believe I love her in the way that night loves dawn. That the ocean loves the shore. Sometimes I think it is more than I, as a human, has the ability to feel."
"Have you told her?"
Tristan threw a twig into the fire, "No."
"Why not?"
"Because if I did it might ruin what we share now. True companionship. We are partners in a sense, I do not want to loose that."
"But what if she feels the same way?"
"Even if she did, it would change little. I cannot live with her in the wild, and she cannot come to live with me in the city."
"Why not? She would be welcome."
Tristan shook his head, "She would not want to live there, Arthur. You yourself said that she has a wildness in her similar to mine. Do I enjoy living in the city?"
"...Good point. Then you two can live outside the city, I have never wished to keep you there against your will."
"Then I would be unable to serve you, and that I do not want."
"I am humbled by your loyalty, Tristan, but if she makes you happy..."
"She does, Arthur. She does make me happy. And that is enough. I never expected that much anyway."
~
The snow had come down so fast, that he was unable to return to the city before it became too deep. So he camped out in her little hut, like many times before. The difference between this time and all those other times was the kiss they'd shared.
Neither expected it, or had any warning. She had turned from shelves where she had been grabbing two cups for the tea that was boiling over the fire. He had been standing right behind her, and when she turned, taking a step forward, she had stepped right into his arms. There was an awkward moment, then she had looked up at him, her green eyes dark with something that he feared to name. Then they were pressed together, with no thought over the actions. She dropped the cups to the floor, and he pulled her closer. Surprised at the force of his emotions, he walked her backwards until she was backed against the wall of her hut. He leaned into her, pressing her closer as she tried to pull him closer still. Their trip to her pallet of blankets and furs was short. And in the glow of the fire the twined themselves together. She whispered his true name in the moments before the world went awash with white lights. When they returned to themselves they silently curled up in the curs together.
Not much changed after that. Which surprised Tristan. He didn't know why really. Moria was anything but conventional. He gave her as much of his time and heart that he could. And she always was content with that, and never ask for more. She contined to live in the woods, and he in the city. She contined to travel with him and for him. And he contined to scorn the court women that threw themselves at the knights of the round table.
It was wonderul, he realized one evening as he sat through a rather horrible dinner. It was the Queen's birthday. He loved her just as much as the other subjects of the land, but he enjoyed her company most when it was just her with her husband and the knights. She had a sharp tongue and it was entertaining ot see her take the knights down a few pegs when they got arrogant. But here, with the court out in full mass, he was ready to put his fist through a wall. Espically if the vapid thing on his right did not stop touching him. Sitting there, imagining slipping from the city to go and spend the remainder of the evening with Moria was the only thing keeping him sane. He realized that he had a haven, a shelter. Some place he could go to recieve comfort and understanding that had no demands or expectations.
Hours passed, and he left as soon as it was polite. Walking in a hurried stride, he passed through the gates and into the hills.
They were both damaged people. Him with his promises that he couldn't keep and his torn honor. Her with her fractured childhood, her scars, and her inability to be around people. Neither had ever expected or even hoped to find someone with whom they could be with. The thought had never occured to them. So while to everyone else, what they shared might seem small, or pathetic, or not real.
To them, it was beauty and truth, and far more than they ever imagined to exist within themselves.
I am a citizen of the world. Begrudge me not my right to live free. But hold me to my citizen responsibilities. I pledge to never be compliant in the face of cruelty or evil. For evil only wins when we do nothing. I promise that neither ignorance nor arrogance shall have any place in my heart or mind. Hold me to these oaths, as I hold you to yours, for we both are citizens of the world.
"What are smiling over?" Fraizer asked, supporting her as she leapt lightly over a large puddle of water. She gave a little spin when she landed, in time with the music that floated around the courtyard.
"Come and see," she teased. He let Carolin drag him across the grounds and towards the mucians and their circle of dancers.
She nodded to the dancers, and Frazier looked bewildered at the group; wondering what it was she was finding so funny. The dancers were people from every walk of life, from the lowest peasents to several knights in his employ. They were all spinning around in a circle, one of the many traditional dances of their culture. Every few steps they all would join hands, take several steps forward, then back out of the circle, before dancing to the side. Then they would break their holds on each other, and dance wildly around; still in their loose circle. The musicans were looking, bright smiles on their faces as they watched others enjoy the music they were creating.
Then Frazier saw them, his jaw dropped.
Wolf and Liadin. Sworn enemies. Bound together by their oaths to Frazier and their mutual hatred for each other. Were dancing together.
Wolf had her hand, and he spun her about himself, guiding her confidently. Liadin was a blur of green and grey colors; her feet bare as they found purchase in the damp, cold ground. Her long, tangle of light brown hair was a curly cloud about her laughing face. Wolf too had a smile upon his lips, a rare occurance in its own right. They two stopped their moment of crazy twirling in order to take the hands of their fellow dancers and perform the traditional steps. Once that was finished, however, they went right back to their unique dance. Liadin's laughter was something unique, a mix of the Fey's bell like tones, and plain human joy. But in her eyes, Frazier saw there was none of the Fey light, it was all Liadin.
Carolin was chuckling at his side still, "You should have seen the look on his face when she dragged him out to dance," she covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed, "Absolute horror."
"He probably thought it was one of her tricks," Frazier said, regaining his ability to speak.
"No," Carolin said, grinning, "I just think he is afraid to dance."
"Well, I certianly have never seen him do it."
"They make an interesting couple, don't you think?"
Frazier turned to her dumbstruck, "Are you mad, woman? God help us all should they decide to fall in love. They'll bring the castle down 'round our ears!"
"Don't be so melodramatic, love. There has always been a fine line between love and hate; and I think there are few in this world who are more aware of it then them."
Frazier considered that, then returned to watching his two most loyal friends obviously enjoy themselves.
**
Wolf was on his knees before the alter; doing his morning prayers when he felt the whisper of her presence. He finished of his silent prayer, and turned to look over his shoulder. Liadin was there, dressed in her usual grey and green tones, no shoes, of course.
"What?" He asked shortly.
She ghosted up to his side; not looking at him, but rather up at the image of Jesus on the cross; the only adornment of the tiny castle chaple, save for the two windows the tiny room could afford.
"He must have been a great person to inspire such devotion from so so many," she finally remarked, turning her eyes to Wolf's. He looked up at her, wary.
"He was. Is."
"I thought he was dead," She remarked, waving a hand at the image on the wall; clearly skeptical of anyone surviving that.
"We believe that he lives on in Heaven," Wolf explained carefully, not really intrested in getting into any kind of fight with her, physical or philosipical this early in the morning.
"The place where you live after death?" she asked.
"Yes," he responded.
"Oh," she sighed a little, "I sometimes think I'll never really understand this religion you, Frazier and Carolin follow..."
Wolf shrugged his shoulders, "Just as long as your respect our right to follow it," he said shortly, crossing himself and rising intent on leaving.
"Of course," she whispered. He stopped short and turned, looking back at her, still standing there gazing up at the image on the wall, her back to him. "Do you wish to know the strangest part?" She asked, still not facing him.
"What?" Wolf whispered.
"They Fey do not believe in respecting a man that they have never met for themselves. And yet...I find myself respecting this man that you hold in such esteem. Simply because you do as well," She turned away from the image after that, and brushed past him, leaving behind the swirling scent of forest and rain.
Wolf just stood there; wondering what the hell just happened....
- Mood:
chipper - Music:Tartan Terrors "Drowning Lobsters"
"Magic is evasive, General. That's its nature. If you dislike the answers I give you, hire another advisor for these matters. I never wanted the job in the first place," he said.
"Be that as it may," Said the other person at the table, the head of the table to be percise, "We do need answers if we're to counteract this threat before it uncovers your world." He was much older than the other two men, balding with only some white hair still showing. He wore silver framed glasses, perched on a large nose. Intelligent green eyes peered between the two men with something like asperation reflecting in them.
"I will do all in my power to help you, Mr. President, however the simple fact remains, that these beings are shapeshifters. Once a weakness is discovered in the shape they take, they take on another, and the process starts again. That's their advantage," the middle aged man explained, shrugging his shoulders.
"Well, they have obviously been defeated before, how was it done in the past?" The General asked. The man shrugged his shoulders.
"It was thousands of years ago. That information has been lost."
"Then what good are you?!" The General yelled.
"Robert, please, lower your voice. I highly doubt that Mr. Rook called this meeting simply to inform us he knows nothing. Am I right?"
Rook tilted his head to the side in aqueisence. "You are, Mr. President. There is someone we may be able to question about these things."
"An immortal of some kind I take it?"
"Sort of...true human immortals are rare, and I know of none that can be reached in the short amount of time that we have. But there are the Keepers."
"Keepers?" The General asked.
"No one really knows what or who they are, only that they've been around...well...I can't say forever, but a very, very, very, very, very, very long time. Their origins are unknown, probably even to them. But they can live forever as far as we can tell."
'What do they do?"
"Watch. Listen. They're called Keepers because that's what they do, they keep records of history. Everything that has ever happened anywhere in the known universe, the Keepers are recording, watching, listening. Including here on Earth."
"What do they look like?"
"Depends on who is watching. That's one of the reasons they are hard to find, and very little is known about them. If a human looks at them, they just see another human, if a dog looks at them, they see another dog. If they are in a grove of trees, they look like a tree. They blend in with whatever they are watching, studying. And they are powerful."
"How so?" The President asked, curious.
"Well, they main power exists in that they are outside the influence of anything. They're immortal because time can't touch them. They're free because Fate has no power over them. They stand independent of the pattern, so that they can study it without bias."
"And they can help us how?" The General asked.
"Well, if the one I'm thinking of agrees to help us at all, she can access the Keepers records and find out how these things were defeated last time they popped up."
"Wait, wait, wait. "if" she agrees to help? Why wouldn't she?" The General pressed.
"I told you. The Keepers watch the pattern. They don't like to interfere with it. In fact, many of them would kill one of their fellows if they discovered him or her helping those they are supposed to be watching. If she agrees to help, whe does so at great personal risk."
"Hey! After my day? I'd believe just about anything," I said hotly, protectively cradeling the glass paperweight to my chest. For some reason, his humor made me feel defensive. He shook his head.
"I'm sorry, it's just that you are taking this all so well that I forget that you still don't really know anything about our world," He stopped his snickering and turned serious. He held out his hands, "May I?" I handed him the glass.
The glass paperweight was something that my mother had had for years. She would tell me when I was a child that it was a dragon's egg, and that it was just waiting for the right time to hatch. It was clear, and fit in my open palm with no trouble. Made of glass, it had swirls of blue, green, white, and red with yellow caught mid-swirl inside. Years later, despite me coming to the understanding that it was just a pretty paperweight, I still held the tiny hope that it would hatch one day.
He turned it over in his hands, looking at it with a fond smile on his face.
"It isn't a dragon's egg. Unfortunatly the race of dragons died out years ago. This is something that is very rare though. I myself have only ever seen one in my lifetime," he said a little popmpusly. My eyes narrowed. He handed the stone back to me.
"That, is one of the Speaking Stones."
- Location:Vega
- Music:CSI Episode
The unremarkable man on the right suddenly leaned down and grabbed something by his feet. He lifted it and set it on the desk between us.
"Do you know what this is?" He asked, blandly. I rolled my eyes.
"It's a box," I answered just as blandly. And it was. I was very familiar with the box. It was handmade, something rather rare in this day and age, plain yellow brown wood that had been dulled and scratched up by time. I knew that the right handle jiggled, and that the latch squeaked. I knew that the interior was lined with green felt, that was stained brown at the bottom and was peeling in two corners. But as familiar as I was with the box, I was far more familiar with its contents.
The man on the right lifted the lid and tried not to flinch at the sight of what lay inside. Rather than touching the contents, he tipped the box forward so I could see inside. I looked, then I looked at him, not allowing an ounce of emotion to play across my features.
"Do you know what these are?" He asked, meaning the contents of the box.
"They're books," I answered without ceremony. And they were. 12 to be percise. Eight novels, one anthology of short stories, one collection of poems and two non-fiction books, one a brief history of the world (for what it was worth) and the other a book on language.
"Books," the man on the left said, spitting out the word like the taste of it across his tounge disgusted him. Which it probably did.
"Are they yours?" The man one the right asked. I shrugged my shoulders.
"Not really, I found them, I don't know who they belong too."
"Found them where?"
"In my attic."
"When?"
"Two years ago."
"And you never thought to turn them over to the authorities? These are dangerous items!" The man on the left said angrily.
"They're books," I said slowly, "Inanimate objects. They're only as dangerous as people make them to be."
"They tell lies, and lead citizens from the truth," The man on the right said gently, as if he was trying to soothe a distraught child.
"The truth is objective, subjective, and relative," I answered quickly,"If there is one absolute truth for humankind, I have yet to find it."
- Location:Aladfar
- Mood:
sore - Music:None
"I do love irony," the figure replyed, making his unseen smile heard in his voice. "But yes, I pray, and I do pray for you. I'm rooting for you and them," an formless wisp gestured to the sleeping form of the two children in her care.
"Who on earth do you pray to?" She asked.
"Why creation of course. All that was, is and will be."
"But that's you! What do you do? Use a giant mirror?"
He laughed, a pleasent deep rumbling sound.
"Goodness no. My dear, creation is you too. And them," gesturing again to the children,"And the darkness that threatens you, and...of course, the light of the single candle that stands against it." Something took shape in his shapeless grey form, a plain white wax candle was offered to her, like so many times before. Michealia accepted it with a sigh. It was as if the air she expelled in that moment, shattered his hold on his formless form. He faded from sight by simply returning the way he came, from the background.
Michealia jammed the candle into a free holder, and used her faithful Zippo to light it's unmarred wick. Then she settled herself down on the free cot, the one between the door and her sleeping charges. She kept watch, upholding her promise to them that nothing would touch them this night. All the while, the unending, untiring darkness was held back by the unflickering, unwavering light of a single candle.
The yellow police tape stretched across the door to the apartment style dorm room. The detective ducked under it, and gestured for her paid-a-truck-load-by-the-hour-'specialis
Understandable.
It really wasn't every night you woke up hearing a noise only to find that your three room mates have been slaughtered in their sleep.
The detective glanced over her shoulder, her blue eyes narrowing as she watched her consultant standing there like some one had brained him over the head. He blinked in surprise at something, then refocused on the here and now.
"Ms..." The detective stole a look at her notebook, "Reeves. Carolin Reeves, right?" She asked, taking the seat across from the college student. She gave the girl a warm, reassuring smile.
"Yes, I go by Lyn around my friends..." She trailed off, her tired, red eyes flicking over to the narrow hallway that lead to the bedrooms.
"Well, Lyn, can you tell me what happened, from the beginning?"
The detective noticed her consultant leaned against the wall, pressing his shoulder into the plain begie color.
Odd.
His dark green eyes were focused solely on the girl however, so the detective wrote it off as one of his many, many quirks.
"I went to bed about two. Lea and Stephine were still up, I could hear them in Lea's room. I never heard Courtney come back, I thought she said she was staying over at her boyfriend's tonight. Anyways, I rolled over at about five...I, uh...guess I must have heard something. Usually I'm a heavy sleeper...but I got out of bed and opened my door. I looked down the hall for anything weird when I hear a thump and someone swearing. It's a guy's voice. For a second I just figured that Courtney and her boyfriend decided to stay over here instead of his place when Lea's door opens up and someone dressed all in black rushes out. They turn and face me, I scream because he's got a white mask on his face. He raises up this...knife, and rushes me. I run back in my room, close and lock the door, and call you guys. I don't open up until the cops knock on my door."
"Nothing else? Did you hear more than one person?"
Lyn shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, "I sorry, I only heard one person speak, the swearing."
"Okay, you stay right here, alright?"
The detective stood and crossed the tiny room to enter the hallway.
"What's the story guys?"
She asked the head foresnic. The stooped bald man gave her a pained look, when he noticed her consultant just behind her. She knew he'd followed her right down the hall. He was an imposing presence, tall, dark, and scruffy. The heavy five-o'clock shadow and messy long hair did nothing to improve that image. He also insisted on the stupid dark leather duster, which was beyond her. But she figured with what he was 'specalizing' in, it probably came with the territory.
"Three dead girls. All with ritualistic implacations. Penacles, candles, shit like that. COD looks like esganiation due to having their throats slit. And TOD was around three this morning for all of them."
"Three?" The detective asked, surprised.
"Yes, that a problem?"
"No, it's just our witness said she woke up around five, I mean, we didn't get a call until five-ten, so why isn't she dead?"
The forensic frowned, "You'll have to ask her won't you?" He went into the second bedroom and began processing, leaving her and her consultant in the hall. She glanced at him.
"Guess we will."
She started back towards the kitchen, a little unerved by his continued silence, usually at this point he'd made some sort of sarcastic remark, or done something mumbojumbo-ish. He followed her back to Lyn, this time taking a seat along with her.
"Lyn, the CSIs tell me that your room mates died at about three this morning. Which means that the killer or killers had plenty of time to get to you, any ideas why they didn't?"
The detective watched the girl closely, looking for any signs of deception.
"I don't know." She whispered, her eyes shifting uneasily. The detective felt her own eyes narrow. The girl was lying.
"Could it have something to do with the extensive wards that are around your bedroom?"
Her consultant spoke for the first time since entering the apartment. The detective whriled to face him, right along with Lyn, who's eyes widened considerably.
"Y-You know about those?" Lyn choked out. The consaltant shrugged.
"They're pretty impressive for someone your age. What'd you back it up with?" Lyn glanced uncomfrotably at the detective, who was remaining silent.
"I..ah...have a dragon statue. He's on my window sill, he guards-"
"The entry ways of homes from evil intentions. However, usually they don't carry the kind of power behind those wards of yours."
"True, but you combine him with a few other factors and it'll increase his power."
The consultant tilted his head to the side, honestly curious. It sounded like this girl was more into eastern magic than he was.
"Like?"
"Well, planetary magic, I'm year of the Dragon, just my birth gives the statue a power boost. Combine that with running water, the crystals, and the bell..."
The consultant nodded, absorbing the information, "Of course, I did take a peek in your room, you've disgusied it all well. Fish tank, window treatments, all look quite harmless but pack one hell of a supernatural punch."
"Ah, excuse me? Supernatural dummy over here, mind explaining alittle?" The detective asked of her consultant, who looked abashed and rushed to explain.
"Sorry, Kat. Ms. Lyn here is a pretty smart practinior, she took several classic protection items and managed to hide them as usual dorm things. Running water can serve as a barrier to many baddies that go bump in the night. That's her fish tank. Crystals can absorb and then release sunlight, something that will send many evil things running for cover, that's the dangly sparklie things hanging from her window shade. And then there's the temple bell, which can dispell malicious energies directed towards her when rung. It can also serve as a warning, which, I'm guessing is what really woke you up, isn't it? You felt the killer try to breech your wards."
Lyn nodded stiffly. "He must have been trying for a while, because when he accidently set off the bell, the wards were halfway gone. He realized he tripped my alram, swore and went to make a run for it, I opened my door and caught a glimpse of him as he bolted out the front door. I ran back inside and called you guys."
"What's with the talk of dragons?"
The consultant grinned, "Dragons are very protective creatures by nature, their image has been used for centuries to guard a great many things. A figurine of a dragon can ward against the basic ghosts and spooks, and provid a living space with a sense of comfort. Generally, you try to put them by places of entry, facing a door, or, like Lyn's done, in a window."
"Does it really work?"
The consultant raised an eyebrow at the detective and then looked over at Lyn.
"I'd say so..."
- Location:Spica
- Mood: tired
- Music:"Save Me" Shinedown
Wolf heard the noise of an intruder long before she came into view. Wolf's ice blue eyes widened in total surprise as he regonized the form of the Fey woman that had originally gotten them into this mess. She was...fighting, but that was a poor word to describe her movements. Like all Fey, she was all grace and fluidty on two legs, and the way she fought was no different. Unlike most of the guards, magic made golems, she used speed and agility rather than strength. She moved through the ranks of guards that were around his cell quickly, hitting their critical points, dispelling the magic that held them together and reducing them to the clay from which they were made.
The Fey woman jogged down the length of the dungeon, arriving at his cell and simply opening the door that he had been unable too. She gave him a fierce grin, making Wolf think of the animal he was named for.
"Come on, Master Fraizer is freeing Carolin, we're too meet him in the entry way." She turned to lead the way, but Wolf didn't move from his position in the cell. She looked over her shoulder, a frustrated look crossing her face. "Come on." She repeated.
Wolf crossed his arms, "Why should I believe you?"
Her eyes narrowed to points of golden light.
"Because I just freed you, that's why." She answered frostily.
"You've tricked us in the past."
"I did not trick you. I made a deal, and my subsequent actions were within the relams of the boundries you three gave me. You three set up the rules, you cannot blame me for finding and exploiting a loop hole you failed to see."
"It was the spirit of the bargain that you betrayed. You still broke your word!"
She was suddenly in his face, quicker than thought she was standing directly infront of him. Even though she was nearly a head shorter than him, her stature seemed to impose on his, making him want to take several quick steps back. But he held his ground, glaring into her fierce eyes.
"I have never broken my word, Wolf. I never will, either. I find myself in the debt of your master, now mine as well. I followed his orders when I freed you, and I follow his orders when I take you to meet him in the entry way, willingly or otherwise." She hissed.
"You think you can drag me there?"
"Think? No. I know I can drag you there. And I will if I have too."
- Location:Rischa
- Mood: crazy
- Music:John Mayer
"Ring around the rosies...Pocket full of posies...Ashes to ashes-"
"Bugger off you bitch."
The Fey woman pouted at being interrupted, rolling gracefully from her position on her back laying on a branch to crouching on one below it. Her body twisted in a distintly cat like fashion, and I felt my world grow a little hazy. My desires became indistint. No! Carolin, and Wolf. They both needed my help, if only I could find my way through this damn forest! I drew my sword and made to hack a path in the direction I was sure was the right one.
"You won't get there by going that way..." The Fey woman said, her wild curly hair falling in front of her unnaturally gold eyes.
"And what? You're being helpful now? It's your fault I'm here in the first place," I bit out savagely, not in the mood to listen to her riddles.
"My fault? No. It never ceases to amaze me how little man learns over time. No matter how many times your elders tell you "Never trust the Fey" you do it any way!" She laughed, some sort of high pitched cruel noise that came from the back of her throat.
"I had little choice in the matter."
"There is always a choice." She hissed suddenly, changing moods as quickly as I breathed. Her golden eyes flashed dangerously and I clutched my sword a little tighter. She never stoped moving, she was always in motion it seemed, fluid graceful, intrancing motion. Her arms, her legs, her hips, her shoulders, her head, all seemed to be flowing somehow, like she was a fish in water. It was no wonder that so many men fell victim to the Fey, if I didn't love Carolin with hopeless abandon, I would be her prey. And she knew it.
"I have no intention of asking anything of you, so go away." I said, turning, intent on continuing.
She appeared in my line of sight, perched in the tree that stood by my intented path. She looked honestly sorrowful, but I knew better than to trust her looks.
"This forest, it is...a paradox? Is that the proper word in your tongue? Yes, I believe so. The only way to find the place you seek, the castle at the heart of this forest, is to be lead there by one who helped build it's walls. And only the Fey did that. But no one would ever ask a Fey to be a guide, such is folly. So you see? No mortal shall ever see Talith Dur, and live to tell the tale." Her grey green dress flitted about on a soft breeze that wound its way through the trees. It stired her wild hair, pulling it from her eyes, showing that they were a light brown rather than their usual feral gold.
"I have to try." I said firmly, raising my sword to hack my path clear. But her voice stopped me: sad, curious, and pleading.
"Why?"
I looked up at her, she had come down far, farther than I'd ever seen her, almost to the ground. She looked...almost human. Much of her fluidity was gone, the haze that surrounded my senses when in her presence was absent, and her eyes, her eyes were just a simple and deep brown.
"Because I love them. Carolin is my heartmate, and Wolf might as well be my brother. Even if it costs me my life, I will try." I was done wasting time with her, I slashed with my sword, forcefully parting the forest and continued my way. I hadn't gone far when she crossed my path again, sitting straight backed on a low tree branch.
"What?" I asked, agrivated.
"Do you know where the Fey come from?"
"Hell?" I asked bitterly, she gave me a wane smile in return, a bit of the gold coming back to her eyes.
"Hardly. The Fey were once human. We lived as you do, mortal, fleeting. We gave up our humanity, which is probably why we enjoy seeking you mortals out, because we miss deeply what we left behind."
My eyes widened in surprise. I was always told the Fey were the fairy kind, the last of them, the ones that refused to cross over into the Haven lands when people began to renounce magic and follow the new roman faith. She contiuned.
"Most of us...we were...betrayed by love. Forsaken by it. And the resulting pain, drove us to leave behind our hearts so that we would not feel it, or anything like it ever again. We were weak, and niiave, because we didn't understand fully the magnitude of what we were giving up. So...Master Fraizer, fear us, be wary of us, but pity us as well. For we are but shadows compared to you. I wish you luck, Master Fraizer."
With that, she rose, and began to climb up the limbs of the trees. I knew I had seconds before she vanished.
"W-Wait!"
She still vanished, but her voice came to me, reluctantly on the breeze.
"What?"
"Is that true?" I asked, looking about for her wildly.
"The Fey cannot lie, Master Fraizer, that question is pointless."
"So...you were betrayed by love?"
"...Yes. A very long time ago."
"How long?" I asked, still searching the trees for her lithe grey and green form.
"Long enough to remember the old ways. Long enough to remember this island nation before the faith you follow came here, before it even came to Rome."
I quickly calculated.
"You're over a thousand years old?!" I asked, amazed.
"I am."
"Who betrayed you? What made you turn your back on mortal life?" I asked.
"Why do you wish to know?"
"Because I do."
A sigh blew past my ear, I whirled and found her sitting in a tree of course, leaned against the trunk as if she was tired.
"What of your quest?" She asked
"You said I can't find the castle, so a few minutes won't make a bit of difference." I pointed out, sheathing my sword. She gazed at me, for once her gaze wasn't piercing or hard, it was just...searching. Her brown eyes almost...normal.
"I don't remember much. Once you become a Fey, your mortal life fades quickly. But I can recall enough to make a guess what occured. I fell in love with an older man, someone I must have thought was wise, strong, and handsome. I can only assume something intended to keep us apart, perhaps his family, because I know my station in life was considered low. But we were together anyway. I can remember that. I...became...with child. I can recall being...euphoric. But when I told the man I loved...he must have...asked me to get rid of it, or maybe that he wanted nothing to do with me, I'm not sure. But I became frantic. Then...he accused me of being an evil witch, that I cast a spell on him to make him love me."
She gave me a long measuring look.
"Even without the faith you follow's prejudice towards magic, such an accusation meant death. The village where I lived must have turned on me, because I can remember begging for someone to speak up for me, and no one coming to my aid. They beat me within an inch of my life, and made to burn me at the stake. I managed to escape to the forest, where in my grief at the loss of all that I knew, and loved, I renounced my humanity. My fellow Fey found me not long after that, and brought me to this forest to live. And I have lived here since that day." She finished with a shrug of her shoulders. I looked at her, a sudden understanding at what she said earlier creeping into my heart. Fear them, be wary of them, and...pity them. I swallowed several times before I found my voice.
"What name did your mother give you?"
She winced, an action I'd never seen nor imagined a Fey doing.
"I cannont recall. And how I wish that I could. I would be nice to have a name again."
I stared at her form, leaned against the tree she sat in. Her grey and green dress hung off her, like leaves on a weeping willow tree. The sleeves fluttered in the wind.
"Liadin."
She opened her eyes at my voice, "What?"
"I give you the name, Liadin. It means grey lady in the tongue of the people arcoss the water to the east. I find it rather fitting." I gave her a bright smile, one that she just stared dumbfounded at. I took particular pleasure in catching a Fey off guard. Suddenly her form stiffened, and straightened from its lounged position. I immdiately became alert, looking for any sign of danger. When I returned my focus to where she was, she was gone.
I ground my teeth in frustration. Figures. Fey equals flighty. I drew my sword and contiuned on my way, muttering under my breath about lying Fey women and their wiles. I hadn't gone far when she stepped into my path.
I say again, stepped into my path.
As in, she was on the ground. I gaped at her. Not only was she on the ground, she had managed to change her clothes. Instead of the loose flowing dress she usually wore, she wore a much shorter and simpler one. It was the same green grey that I'd grown accustomed to seeing her in, but it cut off at the knees, and had no sleeves at all. Her skin was a pale tan color, and unblemished by age or diease. Her hair was still wild, and her eyes had gained back a good bit of their gold. But she stood before me armed as I'd never seen a Fey. There was a short sword strapped to her back, along with a quiver of arrows. In her hand she held a long bow. There was a belt around her thin waist that held a knife and a leather pouch. She grinned at me, a real human like grin.
"I told you, a Fey has to guide you to the castle, you'll never reach it otherwise."
I got over my surprise quickly.
"I'll not make a deal with you, I've learned my lesson."
She dipped her head in acceptance.
"Indeed you have, but I find myself in your debt all the same, Master Fraizer. And I must repay my debts."
"Debt, what debt?" I parroted back. She continued to smile brightly at me.
"My name, Master Fraizer. You gave me my name. And with it, a piece of my humanity back. It is a debt that I will most likely be unable to repay in your lifetime, but I will try all the same. Now are you coming or not?"
"You're serious?"
"Of course. Master Fraizer, if gaining back our humanity was something that was within our power, there would be no Fey. But it isn't. We gave it up willingly, forever. It was a free choice we made. And as such, it cannot be taken back. However, it can be given back. Not traded, not bartered, but given. You gave me my name with no expectation of receprication. You have given me back a piece of my heart, and I am in your debt, by choice, because of it."
I tried to clear my head enough to follow that.
"So. You're going to help me?"
"Yes."
"Even if it means fighting with other Fey?"
"We're not family or friends, Master Fraizer, and they understand the nature of debt."
"So you are really in my debt?"
"Yes, and do feel proud Master Fraizer, for you are the first to gain the willing help of a Fey in over a thousand years. Now then, once again, are you coming or not?"
I looked at her. Really looked at her, searching for any sign of deception. I couldn't find any. But then again, I wouldn't would I? She's a Fey for crying out loud. But...I really didn't have anything to loose. I knew that finding the castle was going to be impossible. I knew I was going to die in this forest. Following her wouldn't change any of that for the worse, only the better.
"Lead the way, Liadin."
She grinned, and stepped on my path. The trees and plants bent out of her way, clearing a road through the tangle of forest. I took a deep breath, and hurried after her.
- Location:Shaula
- Mood: calm
- Music:None
