I b allseeing_spydr (\(\;;/)/)

Intro to Darkshield

2009-02-12T07:33:45Z

This is the first scene in Darkshield, kind of a teaser since I'm not planning on posting the rest of UGF online, but I like it and I might post a couple of drabbles with these characters so I'll stick it up. Not edited, but I don't think I made any major blunders.

Shabbily clothed humans shuffled along an equally shabby market lane, populated by rundown stalls, second rate wares, and ‘shop keepers’ who probably hadn’t gotten their products legally. Nearly anything could be found here, as long as you weren’t looking for anything new, or even quality. That had its own place in a slightly classier part of town. Not that the planet Ratha could ever really be considered classy. It was home to the scum of the Central Planets, as well as a few halfway decent folk, but they did their shopping elsewhere.

One of the grimier sellers eyed his current customer suspiciously as the woman looked over his wares, a selection of rather sad fighting knives, a few still sporting a coat of blood denoting the ends of their previous owners. The man scrubbed a dirty hand through his dirty hair and played with his own weapon, a better blade than the ones he sold, but not by much.

The woman, notable as being somewhat clean, glanced up suddenly, her eyes widening at something behind and to the side of the stall. She stumbled backwards a few steps and moved hastily away into the crowd.

The seller spun around, his breath hissing out through his teeth as he realized what the woman had spotted. He gripped his knife for a moment, but thought better of the action, slipping it hastily back into its sheath and making to grab his wares out of sight.

“Relax muchacho,” said a quiet voice from the shadows. “I’m not here for you.”

Not much could be seen in the dim light of the shadows of the alley behind the stall, but not much light was needed to see that the man wore the uniform of the Central Planets Enforcers, the local long arm of the law. No one would dare to wear an Enforcer’s black leather jacket, pants and gloves unless they had the shield to go with it. This one had the extra addition of a visor that fit across his eyes, visible because of the glowing line along its edge. Beside him, at about waist height, twin points of green light glowed.

The Enforcer stepped forward a bit more into the light and the seller took in a rather handsome bronzed face framed by straight black hair that fell just beyond muscled shoulders. The seller shivered at the feeling that he was being intently examined; a feeling all the more disturbing with the visor hiding the Enforcer’s eyes. Others had noticed the man’s presence now. The crowd was unobtrusively thinning and select bits of merchandise had miraculously vanished into thin air.

The knife seller tore his eyes away from the Enforcer as something shifted in the alley way behind him. He took a sharp step back with a curse as it moved fluidly to stand beside the man, light glinting as the metallic plates that made up its body shifted silently.

The seller liked dogs, but this was a monster, a robot made up of small of articulated metal plates to form the shape of a dog that stood four feet off the ground. It examined him with glowing green points of light that served it as eyes. The fearsome head turned to the left to look down the market street. It stared for a moment before the humans heard the first commotion.

Two men came full tilt around the corner, jostling through the crowd, shoving people and goods out of their way without discrimination. A moment later it was clear what they fled. Right on their heels was a second man in the Enforcer uniform of black leather. He was running full out, and gaining on his prey, despite having to jump over everything they knocked into his path.

The Enforcer next to the knife seller stepped to the side slightly and pressed his back to the side of the stall, out of sight of the fleeing men. The robot crouched, watching them silently. As they drew almost level, the dog leapt with an almost unnoticeable sound of working machinery, landing among screams on the other side of the street.

The man in the lead saw it and swerved with a yelp in the direction they wanted him to go; toward the knife vendor’s stall. The hidden Enforcer stepped out smoothly in front of the runner, his arm held out straight at eye level. The man didn’t even register the Enforcer’s presence before he struck it, his body continuing on while his head’s progress halted, laying him out flat on his back.

The second fugitive saw his partner fall and faltered for a moment. It was all the second Enforcer needed. Jumping at the man’s back he bore him to the ground, grabbing his arms and forcing them behind him so that he could slap on a pair of heavy cuffs.

The first Enforcer straightened from cuffing his own victim and smiled at his partner. “You’re enjoying that way too much.”

The second man looked up with a vicious grin. His eyes were a startlingly light grey in a tanned face, his black hair cropped short. “I’m entitled,” he countered. “Next time you do the running and I’ll find a nice hiding spot.”

The long haired Enforcer chuckled as they both hauled their respective captives to their feet. The knife seller watched warily as the robotic dog approached them, moving far too silently and gracefully for his liking. That thing was dangerous; he felt it in his bones.

The seller jumped as a voice issued from the beast’s muzzle; a rather attractive female voice at that. “If you two are quite finished, I think we’ve caused enough of a scene here.”

The long haired enforcer gave another low chuckle. “Alright, let’s head back. I left the car in one of the back alleys,” he jerked his head toward the deep shadows where he had first appeared. Hauling their cursing captives with them the Enforcers and their monster vanished back into the shadows.

Shaking his head at the insanity of law enforcement and robots, the knife seller turned once more to supervising his wares as once again the market crowd gathered.

Across Ages: The First LIfe

2009-02-12T07:13:02Z

This is something new, if it turns into anything it will probably be a series of shorts. It's a little odd, the writing style isn't my usual, I don't know why it turned out that way, but I kind of like it. Mostly unedited as my beta is asleep atm, I scanned it myself but I won't have the distance to really edit it for a few weeks at least. This is the first meeting of two souls who will be reunited in lives to come. Perhaps I'll write a few of those lives, if the mood takes me X)

Whist hummed as she strolled along the forest trail, resettling her burden of freshly picked berries on her back. Ma Reida would be so happy to have fresh berries to work with, and she would be just as happy to eat whatever she made with them. She started to whistle one of her favorite tunes, a song called The Road to Neteira and jumped easily over a root.

She stumbled to a halt as the path turned a corner and stopped whistling, holding her breath to listen. She could have sworn she'd heard…there it was again. It sounded like someone was groaning. Pushing her way through the ferns at the edge of the path she cried out and ran to the prone figure half concealed in the underbrush.

“Sir,” she said, putting her hand to the man’s neck to feel his pulse. “Sir, what happened to you?” Asking if the man were alright would have been pointless. After all, he was laid out in the middle of the forest and there was blood seeping from somewhere near his abdomen.

The man’s clothes, though now bloodstained, were hardy but looked quite fine for all of that. A terrifying thought crossed Whist’s mind as the pulse under her hand weakened. If she had stumbled upon a noble, and the lord died in her care, what would they do to her? What would they do to Ma Reida and Pa Eshem and their little farm? “Sir,” he repeated desperately. “Sir, can you hear me? You have to hold on, you have to…”

Suddenly the man’s pulse jumped, his eyes opening wide. They were a deep, deep blue, and seemed to consume Whist’s attention. One of his blood soaked, gloved hands lifted up and buried itself in the farm girl’s hair and Whist gasped, throwing her head back as an alien feeling took over her mind and everything went black.

xxxxxxxxxx

Nerith jolted awake as someone touched him, energy flowing through the person’s hands, returning his awareness. He had been near the end once again, but miraculously here was his salvation. He opened his eyes, staring up into a young woman’s startled green eyes. He reached up and took a handful of blonde hair, staining it red. She gasped and jerked as Nerith entered her mind.

Nerith froze for a moment in wonder, and then started to laugh painfully. In all of his immortal years the one thing he had sought above all else was the soul that was match to his, as slim as the odds were of finding it, even with forever ahead of him. Lying here on the forest path, unable to truly die, yet unable to heal without some source of power, his last thoughts before succumbing to unconsciousness had been a regret, that if perhaps he had searched a little harder, he would have already found the one, and his continued life would not be so pointless…

And here was his salvation, this woman who had stumbled upon him by chance, and when he looked inside, what did he find? For the first time in many years he did not take what he needed to survive, ripping the energy he required from the unfortunate soul who had found him, knowing as he did that each life was only a small part of the soul’s journey and ending that small portion harmed it little. Touching the woman’s mind delicately, he asked simply for the power he needed to live.

It would not have worked with any other soul, but almost as proof of what he was undoubtedly feeling, energy rushed into him, given freely though the girl would have no idea as of yet why she was doing so. Nerith drank the power in, sending the pure life force, unsullied by theft, to repair the damage to his body. The woman slumped unconscious atop him as he released the mind, much more gently than he had taken it.

His strength returned, Nerith carefully lifted the unconscious form off of him and laid the woman on her back, brushing strands of sandy blonde hair out of her face with a gentle gloved hand, the one that didn’t have blood on it. “At last I have found you. Rest, you are safe now. You will always be safe now. I will see to it.”

There was a shuffling noise and a large jack rabbit popped up out of the underbrush. “And you,” Nerith said fondly. “Don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Whist groaned and sat up, blinking. When had it gotten dark? She looked around, recognizing what she could see in the light of a small fire as a clearing near where she had found the injured man on the forest path.

The man. Yes, the man who had been close to death, and who was now sitting on the other side of the fire in clean clothes as if nothing had happened. He looked up from whittling a small stick and smiled warmly. “I thought you’d be waking up soon. Hungry?” He pushed a small wooden bowl toward Whist, who saw it was full of not only some of her berries but also a selection of tubers.

She shook her head in bewilderment. “You were dying. Who are you? What are you?”

The man smiled. “The name I use is Nerith, and I would be human if it weren’t for Sarth here,” he reached down toward his feet and lifted a gigantic brown and grey jackrabbit into his lap. I’m still not sure exactly how it works, but he keeps me alive and un-aging, and he’s even brought me back from beyond a time or two. After my first trip into the afterlife I’ve acquired some…powers, that generally keep me from needing that particular favor, fortunately.”

Whist shook her head again, confused. “I don’t understand.”

Nerith sighed. There’s an easier way to do this, if you like. If I touch your mind, like I did when you found me, we would be able to share information directly. Will you permit it?

Whist looked him over somewhat suspiciously for a moment, but something deep within her cried out to trust this strange man. She nodded. “Alright.”

Nerith smiled, his deep blue eyes seeming to sparkle. “Thank you,” he crossed to where Whist was sitting and knelt next to her. “Just relax,” he said softly, sliding his hand into Whist’s hair.

Whist gasped and tensed, then relaxed as Nerith entered her mind. Before, the strange feeling had dominated her, held her in an unbreakable grip. This was more like a gentle touch, deep inside her. A flood of information entered her mind. There was too much, she couldn’t understand it all and she flailed mentally as it overwhelmed her.

The flow slackened and she heard a voice, Nerith’s voice, whispering, centering her against the flood. “What is your name, dear one,” the voice whispered.

“Whist,” she whispered back, and her soul shivered as the voice in her mind chuckled.

“That is not what I meant, dear one. Tell me now, what is your name?”

Her mind answered with a word she had never heard before. It slipped away from her as she tried to grasp it, but she let it go, knowing somehow that if she ever needed it, it would come once again to the forefront of her mind. It was not meant to be seen baldly in the light of her everyday thoughts.

“Thank you, dear one.” And the voice whispered another word, a word that made her heart skip a beat. It too skittered away into the dark recesses of her mind, but that was alright. It was like the other word. It would come when she needed it.

She could feel those two words, in the very back of her mind, bracing her, opening her mind to things it had never before contemplated. Again the flow of thought from Nerith thickened, but now she was able to understand it, absorb it, learn in moments what would have taken years to explain in mere words.

Finally, when her mind was so full she felt she could take no more, the feeling of Nerith withdrew, leaving her aching at the loneliness of her own mind. She opened her eyes, which she had closed at some point, and looked into the smiling face of the one she loved, for with what they had shared she knew that this was the man she would spend the rest of her life with, and indeed many lives to come.

“So you are called Nerith,” she said, reaching out to touch Nerith’s face. “I am fond of Whist as a name, it was given to me out of genuine love. I think I shall keep it, though you shall have to remind me. Somehow I don’t think that Sarth will permit me the same favors he gives freely to you.”

“No, I do not think so,” Nerith said. It would have been sad, but he was not capable of sorrow that night. “But know that I will find you, Whist, wherever your soul may flee.”

“Good,” Whist said with a smile. On impulse she leaned forward a bit, pressing her lips to Nerith’s. With a small sigh Nerith returned the kiss, slipping his tongue into Whist’s mouth and deepening it gently. They withdrew a moment later and Whist licked her lips, liking the taste of Nerith in her mouth, like sweet berries. “Now,” she said, her eyes glittering with anticipation, her heart opened to things the farm girl she had been would never have considered. “We must decide what we are to do with the rest of this lifetime.”

Bid for Comments

2009-02-12T06:55:05Z

I have just updated my Interests and plan on continuing to do so in hopes that someone will stumble across me. If you are that person, leave a comment just to let me know you were here I would greatly appreciate it, I'm not very good at getting people to find me. Guess I'll go through and see if I have anything finished that I can post so that hopefully if I attract any attention I'll be able to keep it.

Update for me

2009-02-12T06:26:29Z

Simply because this gives me something to do, I shall update my livejournal.

What has happened since September? I moved into the dorm, it is good to be away from my parents for a while. First quarter went fine, I became a handler for a red tailed hawk named Ake with an amazing personality at the Wildlife Shelter where I volunteer and hope to be rehired there this summer.

Second quarter is not going nearly so well as the first, I am overworked and overstressed, I have dropped one class and that is making things somewhat easier, but I am still counting down the days. I have recently gotten more experience as a handler and have switched from handling the red tail (he is being transferred to another shelter as we already have two education hawks) to an absolutely beautiful Peregrine Falcon named Isda. She isn't quite sure of me yet, but we're getting used to each other.

As far as writing goes, nano (Darkshield) took a nose dive at 24k because of overwhelming school work (Japanese hates me), but the story continued, it's simply going a lot slower. In fact it underwent some major rehauling this week and last week and though it is slow going what I have of it is nearing publishable material and it continues to speak to me, as does it's sequel (Technobabble). I have never before tried to work with Sci-fi, i'm usually more of a fantasy person, but I'm finding this story incredibly fun and easy to write.

Ruthless also underwent a MAJOR rehaul. I've only written a bit on the new version, Darkshield has been consuming most of my writing time, but it is now much more in tune with what I intended for the story, which is a darker, more serious piece, rather than the silly romance it was turning into.

As of the last few days my cognitive abilities are fading fast, but hey, here's a good outlet that no one ever reads where I can write my thoughts and blow off some steam. Yay.

Also, I have nothing else to do at the moment having run out of episodes of Andromeda, so I might as well rehaul my lj. I enjoy creating things, and fixing them too.

Wow

2008-09-21T04:28:57Z

So I havn't updated this in a while, but dude, moving into the dorm tomorrow o.O

I guess that kind of betrays my age, but hell, I'm so excited to be getting out of my parents house I really don't care. I should sleep, cuz I'm exhausted and that would make tomorrow come faster, but I think I'm too worked up.

Writing continues to be sporadic, but nano is coming up and if all 0 of you beg, I might put it up here. It's called DarkShield, it's part of a trillogy I think will go far, and it's all very exciting. Now look excited, I command it.

Ruthless-birthday

2008-08-08T01:01:55Z

More of my slash pair, the king and his seer. It's Isibane's birthday and Diemzhon has a present for him.

Isibane strode down the hallway, moving briskly, reading the missive as he went. Tersh was ready to fall, they would have to move again soon. He sighed. As much as he supported Diemzhon, it was quite annoying that they were never in one place long enough to really call it home.

He yelped as someone grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into a doorway, only registering that it was Diemzhon before he was being kissed, deeply and thoroughly. He clung to Diem as he was overcome with a fit of dizziness. How long had he wanted this? And gods, his king was a good kisser…

The king broke the kiss slowly, licking his Seer’s lips and smiling down into his eyes. Isibane blinked up at him and gathered his scattered wits. “What was that for?” he asked. It had always been an unspoken agreement between them that any distractions they might find in each other would have to wait until their goals for Vesamba were complete, and that was still far in the future, years perhaps, despite their progress.

Diemzhon grinned. “I just thought I would wish you a happy birthday.”

The seer blinked again, and then smiled. He had totally forgotten that today was his twenty-first birthday. “You know, this isn’t going to get you out of getting me a present.”

The king only laughed.

Ruthless-Duel

2008-08-08T00:55:01Z

My chosen king dueling the captain of his guard. Somewhat amusing, mostly just because I like to write fights, they be fun bunny-fodder.

Athan licked sweat from his lip as he faced his formidable opponent across the circle. Two years he had captained the guard of the palace in Seshaen while his king roamed abroad, making sure his lands were secure. He had only met the man once before, on the day the captain before him had retired. Now his liege stood across from him, a naked sword in his hand.

“Well then, captain,” the conqueror said, the gleam in his eye making Athan nervous. “Let us see what you’re worth.”

His Majesty Diemzhon, King of the untied lands of Vesamba charged. Athan flicked his own blade up just in time to block the down sweeping blow, forced immediately to parry again as the king struck at his side.

He struck once himself, and then backed off a little. His opponent was just about twice his age of twenty-seven, but he moved like a much younger man. The king had not allowed peace to lull him into complacency. He was in shape and in practice; a worthy opponent for the captain who had gone undefeated for the last two years.

Athan moved in, striking twice, quick as lightning, showing his own speed. The first half of the butterfly move was blocked skillfully. The captain moved immediately into the second ‘wing’ of the attack, drawing his blade up and across as the king jumped back, scoring a line in the leather on his liege’s chest.

King Diemzhon cursed softly and spun away, bringing his sword about in a ferocious blow to the side that numbed Athan’s arm. As the captain blocked a second blow, the king brought them hilt-to-hilt in a test of strength. The guard captain blinked sweat from his eyes as the king bore down on him. He was slightly smaller than his opponent, and though he was as strong as any of his men, he felt himself beginning to give way.

That wouldn’t do. Dropping suddenly he rolled out of the way, the king’s sword striking sparks from the courtyard stone as he twisted to his feet, thrusting his sword forward before he had risen completely. The king struck his sword out of the way and attacked again, allowing Athan to use a move that had disarmed many men in the past.

The king twisted away, still in possession of his sword, though forced to renew his grip. Athan struck while he was off balance, attacking again and again, not allowing his king time to do anything but block.

Annoyance flickered in the dark eyes across from him as the king tried to attack and was forced once again to parry. Athan knew he would not be able to keep this speed up for long, but if he could just find an opening…

There! He whipped his sword up through the hole in the king’s guard, touching the tip to the leather over his heart. As he grinned in triumph he felt the press of cold metal at his throat.

A draw.

King Diemzhon grinned into his eyes, the smile that of a man to his equal in battle, not of a master to his servant. The king disengaged and leaned on his sword, wiping sweat from his eyes, and gave his guard captain a quick wink. “You’ll do,” he said.

“Sir,” Athan nodded to his king and sheathed his sword, returning the smile hesitantly.

The king sheathed his own sword and turned to make his way through the ranks of the watching guard and out of the courtyard. “Call me Diemzhon,” he called back over his shoulder. “Oh, and I’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning for round two.”

Athan stared after his king, turning away only when he heard a derisive snort at his side. “Good,” His second in command, a woman a head shorter than any other guard present, grinned up at him. “Finally there’s someone around other than me who can draw with you. Now no one can complain that our captain is getting a big head.”

“You’re the only one who ever claims that Laira,” Athan said with a smile.

“Hmm,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she considered this. “Damn, I’ll have to find something else to complain about now.”

Ruthless-Valentines

2008-08-08T00:50:16Z

This drabble directly follows the first one I posted concerning usurpers. These characters are slash, and this does happen to be a valentines drabble (hint hint) however, very mild romance, short and cute.

Isibane smiled as he was forced once again to find an alternate rout back to his rooms, rather than interrupt something better left alone. As Diemzhon had promised, once their goal was complete and Vesamba was united, they had taken up residence in the Seshaen capital.

The Seshae had quite a few customs he was unfamiliar with, as they were not shared with Uxolan tradition. This was one of them, this day set aside to celebrate love. He liked the idea, personally; it gave him a good excuse to drag Diemzhon off somewhere quiet, now that they were officially together.

There would be none of that this year though. No kissing in dark hallways for the King and his priest-consort. Instead, Diemzhon was off in Aur, dealing with a regent-turned-usurper. He wasn’t due back for two days.

Isibane sighed as he reached the door to their suite, his light mood gone. He understood why Diemzhon had left him here for this particular venture, but he hated being away from his King, even for a day. A week was far too long, and he still had two days to go.

He paused as he passed the door to their sleeping room, a glimmer of white catching his eye. He moved cautiously into the half-lit room, and carefully picked up the white rose that rested on the pillow. He lifted it to his nose on impulse and breathed in the heady scent. These flowers grew only in Aur, and they were one of his favorites.

He heard a slight rustle of fabric behind him and didn’t jump when Diemzhon wrapped arms around his waist. “Good evening love,” the King whispered in his ear before pressing his lips to the priest’s neck.

Isibane sighed, this time in pure happiness, and let his head roll back, leaning into his lover. “You aren’t due back for two days,” he murmured.

“Well then,” Diemzhon said, turning him around gently. “I guess that means we have two days alone. If no one knows I’m here, no one will send to bother me, will they?”

He kissed his priest properly then, and Isibane found that he had absolutely nothing to argue with. For at least a little while, everything was right in his world.

Tears of a Full Moon

2008-08-08T00:40:37Z

No idea what spawned this, I wrote the first few paragraphs a few years ago and stumbled upon it while glancing through my unfinished drabbles and the rest of it came to me.

I rather like this story, though like most of what I'm posting here it's somewhat unpolished.

Fun with werewolves and not connected to any pre-existing world, mine or otherwise. The rightful packmaster's mind is being supressed, and it's up to his friend, a low ranking wolf named Kara, to not only save her human brother's life, but her pack as well...

Karanine glanced around the airport warily as she stepped off the plane. Just last year this had been another pack’s territory, and it still made her edgy being here. Viktaron, her partner, followed her silently as she made her way towards the baggage claim, his eyes lighting up cheerfully as he scanned the surrounding area.

He glanced at her and grinned. “There’s really nothing to worry about Kara. The Ukala pack is whipped, they won’t be coming back here anytime soon.”

Kara sighed. “I know Vik, but I can’t help being a little paranoid. That whipping you’re talking about didn’t come without casualties on our side too.” Vik’s expression softened and he squeezed her shoulders gently. Kara’s mate had sacrificed his life for the pack against the Ukala.

The younger werewolf sighed and leaned into his embrace for a moment, then shook him off. “Look, there’s one of our bags. Go get it will you?”

Vik grinned. “Yes mother.” He moved around to the other side of the baggage claim to snag a duffle bag off of the belt. Kara watched him with a bitter smile. He was her best friend, the one person she could trust, and she couldn’t even tell him who he really was.

Or she could, he just wouldn’t believe her.

The present Packmaster has gotten that post through a hostile takeover. In the process, he made sure that the only wolf that had a real claim to the ‘throne’ would never try to take it from him.

Viktaron, second son of the last Packmaster, may his howls rise long in the afterlife, was the strongest and cleverest werewolf in the pack. He cared for his wolves, and he would have been the leader the Nitari pack needed, but for a simple leather collar on his neck. A simple collar with a rather complicated spell.

Why Javik, the present Packmaster, hadn’t killed his only rival, came under rather stupid reason of pride and reputation. It was something that was often seen around the pack; a leader must be revered by his wolves. So instead of killing the only one strong enough to fight him, Javik had the pack’s Shaman put a little spell on him.

When Vik had come home from a fight of his own with another pack on their border injured and exhausted, the new Packmaster had taken advantage of his weakness to overpower him and lock the spelled collar onto his neck.

The spell on the collar was one of the best that their skilled Shaman could make. While it was on his neck no one could persuade Vik of who he really was, or that he had a chance against the Packmaster. He was quite convinced that he was the weakling of the pack and his only purpose was to follow the orders of the Packmaster. The enchantment suppressed his intelligence and his power, making him seem rather dim and shallow except to those who were around him enough to see the brief flashes of cunning that got past the spell.

Kara was one of those. She knew his real identity as well as she knew herself, having been turned and been best friends with him two years before Javik came to power. She and her late mate Ivalis had been close enough to Viktaron before the takeover that they chose to fall in status with him, rather than abandon their friend and keep their high positions in the pack.

She was determined to get that collar off of his neck, but that was no easy feat. Due to the spell, Vik was the only one who could remove it and free himself, but no one could convince him he should. Javik had fed him some story about an illness and that if he removed the collar he would die, and the Shaman had made sure he swallowed it whole.

So there they were, Kara and Vik, doing the simplest and safest missions to be found, while Viktaron the rightful Packmaster toddled around with half a mind. If only she could convince him…

“Kara?” A voice cut through her musings. “Karanine? Is that you?” That voice was much too familiar. She turned slowly, dread building a knot in her stomach. “It is you!” A man with the same brown hair and chocolate eyes as the werewolf threw himself across the room and wrapped his arms around her.

Stunned, she stared down at the man who looked so familiar. “Kelisan,” she whispered. A cough that carried an undertone of a growl made her look up quickly. Vik had come back with the bag and was looking at them with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s…It’s my brother. It’s Kel.” The second eyebrow went up to match its partner at that, and Kara saw a fleeting expression of calculation, before the collar suppressed it.

Kel looked up at her wonderingly. “Six years, and now we run into each other. Where on earth have you been? One day you’re complaining that you have nothing to do after college, and the next, you’re just gone.”

“I…” she began, then stopped as Vik shook his head. You know the rules said the look in his eyes he should not be alive. You know what you must do. “I’ve been busy.”

“Do you live around here now?” Asked the eager human. He practically bounced with excitement when she nodded. “Excellent! I’ve just moved here too. Here, I’ll give you my address and we can catch up. Do you want to go for some coffee now? I don’t have a job yet so I really don’t have anything to do at the moment…”

He babbled on as Kara just stared, trying to conceal her shock and panic. Kel? Move here? She couldn’t be around her brother again, by the laws of the pack the previous family of any newly turned werewolves must either die, or be turned. She couldn’t let that happen. Desperately she looked up at Vik, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t the clever wolf she used to know.

But for once she got lucky. Perhaps the collar was weakening, but instead of just staring at her with that stupid grin, Vik put a pleasant smile on his face and acted as if he hadn’t been a mindless dipshit for the last four years. “Well it’s truly nice to meet you sir, but though you may not have work at the moment Karanine does, and she must return to it.”

Kel blinked. “Oh. Oh yes, I’m sorry. Well here’s my address,” he handed a slip of paper to Kara. “Come and see me. You should come too Mr…”

“Viktaron. You may call me Vik if you wish.”

“Mr. Vik.” Kel nodded to Vik, and with one last grin to his sister he waved and hurried off.

Kara close her eyes, raising a hand to try and rub away the headache growing between her eyes. “Thanks Vik. My lord, I have no clue how I’m going to work this. How can he be here? I can’t keep the pack a secret with Kel poking around, he knows me too well, and I know him well enough to know he won’t give up. Ever.”

She looked pleadingly up at Viktaron, who only grinned stupidly down at her. “I thought he was nice. Too bad he was supposed to die.” Kara sighed. Maybe the spell wasn’t weakening after all.

a few days later

Kara snarled as she threw herself onto her bed, shoving her face into the pillow and screaming as loudly as she could into the muffling darkness. Once she had screamed herself out she rolled over and stared at the ceiling, still fuming.

Vik poked his head around the door cautiously. “I’m sorry Kara, I didn’t mean to make you mad, but I had to tell the Packmaster. He’s…He’s the Packmaster.”

She closed her eyes, praying for patience. “I’m not angry with you Vik.” It was only half a lie. She was angry with him, but only the part of him that was being controlled by that thrice damned spell. Being the weakest, stupidest little shit in the pack, Vik’s loyalty to the Packmaster caused him to tell Javik any and all little interesting tidbits that came up on their missions, no matter how much they upset his partner.

And so, Vik had told the Packmaster all about Kel and their meeting with him, and she had been ordered before the Packmaster so that he could deliver a blistering lecture on the ‘rules’ that had run the pack from the beginning. They could not risk discovery. Any relatives of a newly turned must either be turned themselves, or die.

The Shaman at the time she had been turned had been weak enough that she could hide the fact that she had a brother, especially since he’d been away at college when she turned. The rest of her family hadn’t been so lucky. And now she had been ordered to slay the only one she had been able to save.

She had till the next moonturn, three weeks from that night, to finish it herself, or she would suffer the consequences at the hands of the Packmaster. Her other duties and Vik’s were suspended until she could get her nerve up to hunt, and bring her brothers head for the Packmaster to feast upon.

She hadn’t even gotten over her mates death three months ago, and already her world was falling apart a second time. How could she kill her own brother? The same way she had murdered her parents, her sister…

But she had been newly turned then, uncontrollable. Back then the wolf in her knew nothing but the will of the pack, emotionless. Now…

Vik sat at the foot of her bed, his innocent eyes staring down at her in concern. “I can do it for you, if you want.”

“No!” she cried, sitting up quickly to grab his arm. “No,” she said more calmly. “This is my battle Vik. And there might still be a way out of it.” Kara reached up to touch his collar gently. “Please Vik, will you just try to take this off for me?”

He blinked at her. “Do you want me to die?”

She sighed. “You won’t die, I promise.”

“The Shaman said I would die, if I took it off.”

“The Shaman lies Vik.”

He pulled away slightly. “I don’t believe you. Why do you want me to die?” The look in his eyes was hurt and confused.

Kara shook her head. “Never mind Vik.” It was hardly worth the try. It certainly hadn’t worked the last eight thousand times she had tried to get him to take his collar off. No matter what she said, he would never believe her. He didn’t want to die.

“You have to do it Kara.” He said quietly, the concern back in his voice. “The Packmaster will be mad if you don’t. I don’t want him to be mad.”

She patted his arm. “I know Vik, I know.” She pulled the slip of paper with Kel’s address out of her pocket.

As Kara and Vik made to leave the manor owned by the Nitari pack, Vik turned and waved to someone Kara couldn’t see. His intelligence may be suppressed, but his senses were the sharpest in the pack, even if he wouldn’t acknowledge the fact.

Mikal, one of Javik’s guards, stepped out of the shadows in wolf form, walking up to the pair. Kara stiffened. “What do you want Mikal.”

The gigantic silver wolf looked up at her sadly. They had once been friends, when he and Ivalis, Kara’s mate, had been partners. That was before he had turned on his partner, slaughtering his fellow wolf, and then turned on his friends by abandoning Viktaron to side with Javik.

It wasn’t easy for a werewolf to form human speech in wolf form, but Mikal managed. “The Packmaster has ordered me to accompany you and see that the deed is done.” His voice was rough, more of a directed growl than actual words.

Kara snorted. She should have seen this coming. “Why, don’t think I have the courage? Or are you planning on killing me while my back is turned,” she snarled.

The silver wolf turned shook his massive head, “It wasn’t like that Kara, please…”

“I’ve had enough of this,” she growled low. “Stay out of my business. Unless you’re afraid of what our dear Packmaster might do if you dare defy his orders.”

Turning her back on him, she nodded to Viktaron, and they both melted smoothly into their wolf forms Vik was gigantic, with pitch black fur. Kara, somewhat smaller, was grey with a little brown. They vanished into the darkness.

The silver wolf picked up one foot uncertainly and whined, then slipped quietly into the shadows after them.

Kara paused on the curb, her sharp eyes picking out the numbers on the side of the house before her. With a heavy sigh she shifted back into her human form and stepped into the streetlight’s glow. A moment later Vik appeared at her side, running a hand through his short cropped hair. “I smell him here.”

“This is his house.” Straightening her spine Kara strode up the handful of stairs to the door. She took a deep breath and knocked.

A sleepy Kel opened the door and Kara felt her heart constrict. “Kara?” he said with a yawn. “It’s 1:00 AM, what are you doing here so late?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

He blinked at her for a moment, and then nodded. “Alright, come in.”

Vik glanced over his shoulder as they entered, noting a silver shadow darting across the street. He said nothing.

They took seats across from Kel in the living room of his small house. “Now what’s all this about?” the man glanced from his sister to her friend and back.

Kara got restlessly to her feet and began pacing. “Kel, you have to leave. Get out of here, sell the house, disappear, do you understand me?” Vik growled low. “Shut up Viktaron” she snapped before turning to look her brother in the eyes. “Don’t ask any questions Kel. You have to leave and never contact me again.”

Her brother glared. “Don’t ask any questions? You think I’m just going to buy that? What the hell is going on here Kara?” She felt her heart sink. Of course he wouldn’t listen. She should have seen this coming.

As she opened her mouth to try once more there was a loud crash from behind her. “No!” she screamed as a silver figure flew through the living room aimed straight for her brother’s throat.

She watched in slow motion as the wolf soared towards her brother, intent on finishing the job himself, unable to move fast enough to intercept the blow. As Mikal’s leap carried him over the couch however, Vik rose up, a great black form rippling with a power that was Pure Wolf.

Effortlessly he reached out one terrible paw and batted Mikal aside, the silver wolf letting out a surprised yelp before he crashed into the coffee table and stayed there, unconscious. For a moment Viktaron looked down at his fellow wolf, his eyes full of the sharpness and kind wisdom that should be leading them, and Kara’s breath caught. That was her Viktaron…

Then the symbols on the collar flashed and sadness at having to strike down his brother turned to panic. Vik dropped into human form and shot her a horrified look. “Oh my god Kara, what have I done?”

She immediately crossed the room to embrace him. “Shhh, it’s alright, he’s just stunned,” she soothed.

“K-kara?”

She looked up sharply from where she had wrapped her arms around Vik on the couch and met her brother’s eyes. “Please Kel, let me explain.”

He stared at her wide-eyed, “Believe me Sis, you have my full attention.”

Quickly she explained what she was, what had happened to her, and Vik’s situation. She left out the part where the deaths of their family were her fault. She wasn’t brave enough to face the horror he must meet that revelation with.

He sat in silence for a while after her explanation, and then sat back with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “So you’re a werewolf.” He said a little shakily. “Are you guys…it? I mean, if there are werewolves…”

“Oh there are others,” she shrugged. “Vampires, witches, goblins, demons…we don’t usually concern ourselves with them.”

“Well why don’t you take him,” he nodded toward Vik, “to one of these witches or something? Maybe they could break his spell. It seems like that would solve all of our problems.”

Viktaron wasn’t listening to the conversation, instead he sat and stared worriedly at Mikal, who was still out cold on top of the remains of the coffee table.

Kara shook her head. “We do not associate with the others. We trust no one outside of our pack.”

Kel raised an eyebrow. “You trust me don’t you? And it doesn’t sound like there’s much trust in your ‘pack’ right now anyway.”

She sighed. “No, not much.”

“I’ve got a friend,” he said, seemingly thinking out loud. “He says he’s a witch, and I just thought he was talking about all that Wicca hocus pocus, but now…Sis I think it’s worth a try.”

She looked up at him and then nodded slowly. “I can see no other alternative, and the Packmaster will be expecting us to return with your head. We shall go.”

“No!” Viktaron suddenly turned back to them, snarling. “I will go to no witch. Why are you trusting humans Kara, they are bad for us. We should go to the Packmaster and hope he is merciful!”

“Enough!” Kara snarled low and he shrunk back, startled by the outburst. Kara was rarely truly harsh with him. “I have had enough of this Packmaster is god business from you Viktaron. He is not here, I am here, I outrank you and you will do as I say.” She allowed her tone to soften slightly, though it was still a firm growl. “We are going to see the witch.”

“Yes Kara,” Vik said meekly, following her and Kel as they left the house, Mikal’s unconscious form swung rather un-gently over her shoulder.

The witch, Lucia, was up fortunately, though rather startled to see her friend in the company of two wolves. They explained things quickly to her and it turned out, fortunately again, she was a real witch, rather than a wannabe who didn’t truly know the Other World.

“I can make you a substitute head,” she said, examining the collar of a very stiff and wary Viktaron. “But this spell is beyond me I’m afraid. I can’t break it, I’m sorry.”

Vik pulled away sharply. “I don’t want you to break it. It keeps me alive!”

“No,” Lucia said, giving him a glare for his stubbornness. “It keeps you stupid. You are the only one who can remove it, but it keeps you servile so that you don’t want to. You played right into your shaman’s hands, poor soul. All you have to do to be free is to take it off.”

Vik looked at her uncertainly. “Kara says that a lot…she told you…”

“No,” the witch said, shaking her head. “I only met her just now, I can see all of that in the spell. It’s the truth. You hold your freedom in your hands, if you’re brave enough to take it.”

He stared at her, reaching up to touch the collar lightly. Then he whined low and shook his head, running to Kara and burying his face in her shoulder. “No, I don’t believe you! Why do you all want me to die.”

She held him and shook her head sadly, meeting the witch’s eyes. “I’ve tried countless times. He won’t believe me. He won’t believe anyone.”

Lucia gave her a sympathetic smile. “All you can do is keep trying.”

“Uh, guys,” Kel said, slightly nervous. “I think this guy is waking up…”

Mikal groaned and opened his eyes melting back into human form. Kara was at his side in a flash, shoving him back her arm across his throat, cutting off his air. “You,” she hissed. “I should kill you where you lie, you traitorous pig.”

“Kara!” Vik said sharply. She ignored him.

“I…I had to finish it…” Mikal wheezed. “The Packmaster will kill you…for defying him…I cannot…let that happen…”

“Oh really?” Kara snarled, pressing harder, making him choke and struggle feebly. “You killed Ivalis, why should you give a shit about me? You are scum Mikal, you hear me scum!”

“Kara, that’s enough, you’re killing him,” Kel snapped, pulling her away with Lucia’s help. He gave the gasping Mikal a cold look. “We’ve found a way to trick your ‘Packmaster’ so no one has to get punished. You can either go along with it, or I can let her have you.” Kara snarled and lunged a little, just to make the point stick.

Mikal glanced from her to her brother, his eyes haunted. “Very well, I will say nothing.”

After Kara managed to bully Vik into Not Telling, and her brother into staying with the witch, the three wolves headed back with the fake head Lucia had created. It was originally a turnip, but the spell would hold until the Packmaster had eaten it, and there should be no ill effects for the change in form.

Kara strode through the group of wolves who parted for her, snarling, Vik and Mikal a few steps behind her. She dropped the ‘head’ before the Packmaster and glared into his eyes. “It is done.”

He grinned, not bothering to take human form and growled at her, “Well done dear Kara. I confess I didn’t think you had it in you.”

She bared her teeth but didn’t quite dare snarl at him. The Packmaster lowered his head and opened huge jaws preparing to feast.

“Stop!”

Kara felt her insides turn to ice as the shaman appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. He had always given her shivers in human form, or in wolf form as he was now. Originally pure white as all shaman were, he had dyed his coat blood red. It fit him.

“That is not the head of any human,” he snarled. Reaching the Packmaster he stretched out a red limb and pawed at the fake head, which immediately turned back into a turnip.

The Packmaster turned back to Kara with a roar. “You seek to defy me bitch? Well here then is your reward. You seek to save one that you love, now you shall lose two!” he launched his dirty grey form at Vik and Mikal who were standing off to the side, heading for Mikal first.

“You will not harm them! I will not let you!” Kara screamed, shifting fluidly into her wolf form and throwing herself in front of the larger wolf. The went down in a tangle of yelping and snarling fur. The Packmaster got one massive paw free and took the smaller wolf out with a single powerful blow to the skull. Kara fell and did not move.

“Kara!” As the Packmaster untangled himself from the female wolf, Mikal threw himself across the space between them. Rearing up onto his hind legs, the Packmaster took out the silver wolf with a single backhand blow.

He dropped back onto all fours. “It is finished,” he snarled.

But as he spoke a howl of pure agony rang out behind him. Vik sat in his wolf form next to Kara, great head inches from the ground. “You have taken from me all that made my life worth living.” He reached up with one paw and tore off the collar that held him bound.

There was a moment of silence and Viktaron blinked in confusion. Then his features formed a mask of purest rage as he looked up on his oppressor. “You…”

“No!” the Packmaster screamed, throwing himself at the black wolf. “I will not let you take this pack from me!”

Viktaron went down with a snarl, then kicked the grey wolf off of him. “This is my pack, you have hurt my back, you will die, this is my pack!” He leaped onto the usurper, finding his throat with his teeth and tearing it out with a single wrench of his head.

Spitting the blood out he raised his head victorious and howled, long and loud. A moment later his pack joined in, paying homage to their new Packmaster. Their true Packmaster.

The shaman tried to run. Unfortunately for him the flash of blood red caught Viktaron’s attention and he leaped onto the shaman’s back with a snarl, snapping the wolf’s spine.

He turned mournfully to Kara and Mikal and his heart gave a leap as he saw what the dulling effect of the collar had hidden from him. They were alive, if barely. “Tend to them, he growled.” His wolves scrambled to obey.

There would be many changes around this pack. He would see to it.

“Viktaron!” Vik chuckled as Kara ran up and threw her arms around his neck, burying her head in his chest. “You’re back, at last.”

“Yes, at last.” He looked up to where a figure was lurking in the shadows, watching them. “Mikal, come here.”

The silver wolf whined, but did as he was told, keeping his head low in submission as he approached his Packmaster.

“I believe the two of you have unfinished business,” Viktaron said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s finished,” Kara growled.

“No, it’s not,” the Packmaster said firmly. “Now hear him out. Mikal, tell us what happened between you and Ivalis.”

Mikal kept his eyes on the ground. “We were fighting Ukala. Iva got hit.” He glanced up to see Kara’s glare, then winced and lowered his eyes again. “They poisoned him. With wolfsbane.”

There was a soft gasp. “He attacked me. It was fight or die.” He looked up again and this time met her eyes. “I was not ready to die Kara. I…I hoped that once he was gone…It was wrong of me, I know…”

“Yes,” she snarled. “It was wrong of you.”

He closed his eyes. “I loved you. But I loved him too. I would never have killed him Kara, you have to know that. He was already dead.” He lowered his voice to whisper. “Please…”

She looked away, struggling not to cry as old wounds were once again ripped open. “Wolfsbane. I…yes, I understand. You…” She looked up. “I’m sorry I did not believe you.”

He took a hesitant step forward, and Vik gave her a little shove in his direction. With a sob Kara ran to him and Mikal wrapped his arms around her. Finally they had someone to mourn with. Someone who loved Ivalis just as much.

Viktaron smiled and left them alone. All was finally well within the pack. Now it was time to begin the search for a new shaman. And a new life.

Halo-forbidden

2008-08-08T00:25:04Z

I assure you not ALL of my characters are slash, though I'll admit that most of the plot bunnies that have been occuring to me lately have been slash central. What can I say, it makes good romance, the whole added taboo and all that.

Anyways, again taking major liberties with a game, but the chemistry-in-my-head between Master Chief and Cortana was just too amusing not to write. Dunno if I'll do anything more with this particular interpretation of Halo, but I wouldn't be surprised if more came to me eventually.

The captain grinned as a static-y female voice came over the radio. “Dragonfly, requesting that you open shuttle bay three and allow us to board.”

Captain Wyer turned to the four officers who had just followed him onto the bridge as his second confirmed permission to board. “Well boys, I guess you’re going to get to meet the Master Chief after all…”

“This thing is falling apart!” the voice interrupted him over the radio.

“We’re going to make it.” Answered a second voice, this one male and mellower than the female.

“Yeah right, we’re not even close!”

“We’re going to make it,” repeated the second voice.

“Oh no we aren’t! Pull up, pull up!” There was a muffled boom from another part of the ship, though the Dragonfly didn’t even shiver. A moment later the female voice cracked out again, sounding sullen. “You did that on purpose…”

“I told you we were going to make it,” the male voice said, his voice filled with good humor and coming in clearer now that they were on board. There was a loud zapping sound. “Ouch! Hey, was that really necessary.”

“Yes.” The female voice said darkly.

The captain opened his comm. and cleared his throat. “Do either of you realize you’re on open comm?”

“We’re what?” the female voice shrieked, followed by the male’s mellow laughter. “You bastard,” she said a moment later, more humor in her voice. “I will zap you again.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” the double doors to the bridge slid open with a swishing sound as the man spoke. The four turned towards the sound and were surprised to see only one figure, encased in one of the by now legendary bio suits, dyed dark green. The reflective quality of the visor made the face impossible to see.

The figure nodded to the captain and then reached around for a button on the back of the armor. Something like a card-key popped up, and the figure inserted it into a matching slot on the main consol.

A figure of purple light appeared above the consol a moment later. “Ah,” she sighed. “Home sweet home at last, or at least as close as I’m going to come to it. Better than being carried around by a bumbling idiot anyways.”

The figure laughed revealing himself to be the male voice from the radio and touched a spot on the chest-piece of his suit. There was a click and the metal slid inward, somehow compressing itself until he held a palm-sized disk of green metal in his hand.

The man, about 5’9” with green eyes a match for his armor and onyx black hair in a braid just past his shoulder blades looked up at the representation of the AI and winked. “What, you think I like having you riding around in my head? Thanks, but I really don’t need a second conscience.”

The AI just sniffed and turned to the captain. “Captain Wyer, I suggest we relocate, our ghost was damaged, it will be easy to trace.”

“Of course,” the captain nodded to his first mate who immediately move off to see it done. “While you’re here, allow me to introduce you to Majors Markus Lee, Brian Tadum and Amanda Wilson, and First Lieutenant Marth Arman. Gentlemen, Lady, this is Master Chief Ryan Chase and Cortana, our resident AI.”

Ryan leaned back against the consol, “nice to meet yah.”

“Don’t lean on that,” Cortana said irritably. “Stand up straight anyways, what kind of impression are you trying to give here?”

Major Wilson threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said when the others turned to look at her. “But you remind me of a few married couples I’ve run across. It’s cute.”

“Well then,” Ryan said, shoving off of the consol and spinning around. “That’s just the opening I’ve been looking for!” He dropped to his knees before the consol and looked up at the AI, widening his eyes in a perversion of the ‘adorable’ look. “Cortana dearest, will you marry me?” He clasped his hands under his chin and gazed up at the flickering purple figure.

“Hmm,” she said, pretending to consider, then she winked at him. “Sorry hun, flesh and blood just doesn’t do it for me.”

“Ah, I’m crushed,” he said, leaping back to his feet with a laugh. He spun back around and leaned against the consol once more, ignoring Cortana’s glare. “So Cap, what are they here for?”

“Refreshing the troops,” Wyer replied, giving them an amused look. “Apparently they higher ups have decided to rotate some personnel. Maybe they’re hoping you’ll finally find someone besides the Lady there that you can work with.”

“Ha,” the Master Chief shook his head. “They don’t look like they could even keep up with me.” He tilted his head to the side as he looked their way. “No offence.”

Lee and Tadum looked annoyed, Wilson simply raised her eyebrow.

“I can,” said a quiet voice from the back of the group. The young lieutenant raised fierce gold-brown eyes to stare down green ones. Or perhaps the better word was stubborn. “I can keep up with you.”

Ryan leaned forward a bit, his eyes suddenly sharp. “Can you now? As you wish. Captain, our next mission we’ll be taking lieutenant Arman with us.”

5 years later

“Arman, you ready?”

Marth looked up from where he was checking his weapon. “Always Chief.”

“Great, let’s head out. Cortana.”

“I’ve already contacted the Captain, we’re good to go.” The AI’s voice echoed from two helmets.

After it had become apparent that the bold young lieutenant could indeed keep up with the famous master chief Marth had acquired a bio-suit of his own, lighter than the Chief’s, with less shielding but more maneuverability and a handy camouflage option. They had been working as a team for five years now. The Chief drew fire, and his partner went in for the kill.

Marth stayed silent on the way to their destination, perfectly happy to listen to Ryan speak, even if he was going to bicker with Cortana the entire way there. That first day on the ship those green eyes had caught him. He hadn’t meant to make his declaration, but now he wouldn’t have changed what he’d said for anything in the universe.

At the time he’d had no idea what it took to keep up with the living legend he’d heard so much about, or if he had it. But he’d been determined to try. Something about Ryan made him want to stay close, no matter what he had to do to stay there.

And he’d done it. That first mission had been hell, he was constantly surprised he’d survived it, but he’d stuck it out. After a few more like that the higher-ups had decided he was worth a bio-suit of his own, though thankfully that pretty package didn’t include a second AI. Marth was more than happy to leave Cortana all to Ryan.

And now they were partners. He got his wish, and he wouldn’t give it up for worlds unknown, this chance to be so close to the thing he admired so. Unfortunately partners were all they would ever be. The humans that were left were a very strict group.

A relationship between himself and his Master Chief was forbidden, and even if the Chief were amenable to the idea, to be caught would mean death, at the least. He wouldn’t do that to Ryan. At least he could be close.

Marth Arman allowed himself to smile as they slipped out of their transport and into enemy territory. The Flood had gotten a hold of some weaponry that the higher-ups considered dangerous. They had been ordered to destroy it at all costs.

He activated his camouflage as they encountered the first signs of the enemy. Ryan fired a few shots to get their attention as Marth slipped around them to come up from behind. Moments later their immediate targets were eliminated and they moved on.

That’s the way it usually went with them. They worked together beautifully after five years of nearly constant practice. Not that it was always easy.

They stopped on either side of an open doorway, looking out into the cavernous room beyond. Marth took deep breaths, trying to recover from a blow to his chest delivered by an enraged Flood that looked like it had once been a Hunter.

He pressed a hand to his chestplate and discovered that it was dented. No wonder he was having trouble breathing. He did a quick systems check and was relieved to find that other than the pressure on his chest, everything was working normally.

Ryan angled his head in the way that meant he was looking at his partner, though it was impossible to see his face through the visor. “Well,” his mellow voice whispered in his partner’s ear, and Marth had to fight off a shiver. “Let’s do this.”

They dispatched the remaining flood quickly. Marth hung back a little, still struggling to catch his breath. The systems check had come up good, but his suit was moving sluggishly.

“Are you alright?” Ryan asked, his voice concerned as they reached the weapon they were to destroy.

“Fine,” Marth said shortly. “Just a little winded.”

“Set the charge and let’s get out of here,” Cortana said, her voice wary.

Marth moved to put the charges around the weapon and then moved back. “Alright, all set.” They moved off, killing a few more Flood on the way out.

They reached the entrance. “Hit it,” Cortana said.

Marth reached out and touched a button on the arm of his suit. Nothing happened. “Oh shit…” he said quietly.

“What is it,” Ryan said urgently.

“My suit’s damaged,” Marth said quietly. “I can’t activate the charges remotely. I have to go back in.”

“Arman…”

It was Cortana who cut the Chief’s protests short. “We can’t allow the Flood to use this weapon. There is no other way.”

Marth sighed and tugged his helmet off. “Ryan…take your helmet off?”

“Why?” the Chief asked even has he complied.

“Just something I want to do before I go.” Marth straightened his spine, that spark of stubbornness back in his eyes and strode up to the man he loved. Ryan dropped his helmet.

Kissing Ryan was just like he’d imagined. The Chief’s mouth was warm and soft, and thankfully not rejecting him. “Marth…” Ryan whispered against his lips, looking dazed.

Marth smiled, happy to be dying with the taste of Ryan Chase on his tongue. “Goodby Ryan.” Without waiting for a response he turned and slipped back into the base, cutting off communications.

Ryan started to follow when Cortana’s voice, full of as much grief as an AI could manage, brought him up short. “Let him go Ryan.”

“We can help…”

“Someone has to return to tell them the mission is accomplished. I’m sorry.”

With a sigh the Master Chief retrieved his helmet and headed back towards their transport.

Marth woke slowly, the first thing he registered was warmth, the second, light. Warmth and light, well that certainly fit. “Am I dead?” he croaked.

Familiar laughter erupted somewhere to the left and his eyes snapped open. Ryan. Ryan was there, sitting next to his bed. He took in the surroundings. The ship’s infirmary, but how…

“What happened?”

“Freak accident,” Ryan said. “We were halfway back when Cortana double-checked and said she read your life signs. I turned the transport around and we went and got you back. According to the engineers that blow you took rewired your armor, and directed the energy that would have gone into other systems into your shields. Less than a 1% chance, but I guess I just wasn’t meant to lose you yet.”

The memory of what else had happened on that planet came rushing back, and Marth paled. “Ah. Yeah. About that kiss…I, ah…”

“Relax,” Ryan said with a soft smile. He hesitated a moment, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of Marth’s mouth. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he said softly.

Marth’s eyes blazed. “So am I.”

Death of a Bunny

2008-08-08T00:16:26Z

This is a fun little crack-fic born of my enmity with plot bunnies. I had a sequel somewhere but it has been (hopefully temperarily) lost in the clutter of my life.

He was the Hunter in the night, seeking his elusive pray. Sometimes as man, sometimes as beast, this was his purpose, to stalk through the darkness.

The creatures he sought were dangerous things, born of the minds of that small minority of humans who could be said to have a sense of creativity. They all cursed him of course, for destroying the children of their musings, but he had no choice. These things could not be allowed to run free. The world was never the same when one of them escaped his grasp.

Oh yes, he could smell them. The humans were busy this night, very busy. These were the ones he hated most, those spawned late at night. They were unpredictable, unorganized. They could cause the most damage.

He treaded silently, turning to follow the scent. Yes there it was, one of them, the despicable creatures. It’s ears perked as it detected his presence, the danger. Suddenly, it leapt up in one great bound and was off. Taking the form of a great night-wolf, the Hunter followed close on its heels.

It was a good chase, he gave it that. This one may not be organized, but it was persistent, and quite elusive. Finally he cornered it. Large crazy eyes stared up into his, defiant. It would hold on as long as it was able. But in the end, they all must end up as this one would. Crushed by the wolf’s jaws.

It was his destiny, as it was theirs.

Silently the Hunter ended the life, of another demented Plot Bunny.

Cutting Down Complete

2008-08-08T00:04:59Z

So I've gone through all of my posts and hopefully don't sound like so much of a whiney bitch now, I'll try to keep it a little more interesting, rather than whiney, on the off chance that I catch someone's attention and they actually read my posts *le gasp*

Now, to begin posting all of the random drabbles sitting in my writing folder.

Tarantulas

2008-08-07T23:34:24Z

Sooo, posting because I am bored. It has occured to me that Rose Hair Tarantulas are 16$. I want one. However, I'm already stuck trying to sneak a snake into college, and even if the snake goes over alright with my roommate, i can't exactly expect the same for a spider *sigh*

Due to my boredom I've decided it's time for a rehaul of my livejournal account. My longer stories change too much for me to even think about posting chapter by chapter, but anything finished I can post, and I have a lot of cute drabbles that I can put up, even if the story that spawned them changes I can just call them off the wall or whatever.

Now, to delete everything (or almost everything) and start posting drabbles.

Just Desserts

2008-02-20T02:53:28Z

This is from a new verse of mine, UGF or United Galaxy Federation (known to some as the United Galaxy of Fools). This will most likely turn out to be a collection of short stories, rather than anything longer, so here is my first oneshot. t is out of town, so no beta for me, therefore sorry if it's a little rough.

*edit* This verse is undergoing changes, therefore this story no longer fits with the verse. I like it, so I'll leave it up, but to avoid confusion, it should be ignored when I get around to writing more in the UGF verse.

Jonas rang the doorbell a third time, peering through the glazed window next to the door, trying to see if anyone was coming to let him in. This was just great, he was nervous enough already, and on the first day of his new job he couldn’t even get in the front door.

He reached for the button again and jumped when a voice cracked out from a speaker beside the panel. “Oh just come in already, no one’s paying any attention and that bell is starting to get on my nerves.” The door clicked open.

He stared at it for a moment, then cautiously stepped inside. “Serta and Nicky are in the living room, down the hall third door on your left.”

“Uh, thanks.” Jonas said to the disembodied voice. “And uh…were are you?”

“I am the A.I. responsible for many aspects of this dwelling. My main computer is located in the operation room on the third floor of this building. I am called Ruus.”

“Oh,” he said weakly. “Sorry.” He had heard that some of the richer houses were run by artificial intelligence, but he had never seen one. He hadn’t thought his new employers had that kind of money, though they were certainly in the top 5% of the population.

He heard yelling as he reached the specified door, and poked his head around the corner cautiously. His eyes widened as they wandered around the room, noting a large couch, the largest screen he had ever seen and the space! What could they possibly need that much space for?

The floor was marble, and there was even a balcony above the room, with marble staircases leading up to it on either side. Finally his wandering eyes settled on the man doing all of the yelling and his breath caught.

Everyone, even the kids in the slums who couldn’t afford a decent meal, knew StarCrossed. The band was famous, and all the more so because all of the members save one had fought their way up from the slums themselves.

The man who stood beneath the balcony now was the lead singer, Serta Haran. Jonas had always thought personally that all the stars looked much better in pictures, but if anything this one was hotter in person.

Strait, loose blonde hair just touched his shoulders, a stray strand of it brushing a pale cheek. He wore a clingy blue outfit that left little to the imagination, stopping at the shoulder to show off a good bit of bare arm, decorated with bangles. A silver ring in his right ear sported a small sapphire, perfectly matched to ice blue eyes, which were currently gazing upward.

“Nicky!” Serta stood glaring up at the balcony. “Get down here so I can pummel you, you bastard!” The blonde stomped his foot for good measure and Jonas was forced to smile a little.

A second man, dark where Serta was pale, poked his head cautiously over the balcony railing. “Oh yea, ‘cuz that’s motivation.”

“Nicky,” Jonas murmured, identifying the man as Nicolas Cole, guitar player and songwriter. Nicky was considered by many to be Serta’s polar opposite. His coal black hair was short where the lead singer’s was long, his skin dark where Serta’s was pale, and his eyes a warm gold to counter the blonde’s cold blue. Even their builds were opposite, Serta thin and lithe where Nicky was broad-shouldered and well muscled. Together they made a sight for thousands of fan-girls to sigh over.

The guitarist wore all black, and it suited him nicely. Slightly baggy pants accompanied a tight tank top, and a strip of leather was wound around one wrist, in lieu of the bangles his friend wore. Nicky too had a hoop in his right ear, but his was gold, with no accompanying stone.

Well, he had better introduce himself, before they caught him staring. That would not be such a great way to start a business relationship. Jonas stepped a little farther into the room and cleared his throat. The two men turned to look at him, and Serta raised a thin eyebrow.

Jonas tried not to blush but judging from the slight heat in his cheeks, he hadn’t quite succeeded. “Uh, hi. I’m Jonas Wren, I’m supposed to be your new cook.”

Serta’s expression cleared and Nicky jumped off the balcony, grabbing one of the hangings to slow his fall, landing neatly beside his friend. “Ah, so you’re the newbie.”

The lead singer grinned, looking him over. “Ruus didn’t say anything about our new cook being so hot.”

If he hadn’t been blushing before, he certainly was now. “Ah…thanks,” he struggled to look anywhere but at the far too attractive man who was his employer and he so did not need to do something stupid and mess this up.

It wasn’t like Serta was serious. He was nothing compared to the people this man must consort with on a daily basis, with his brown hair and eyes as plain as they come, and his build completely average. He bit his lip, hard, and brought himself back under control just as Nicky stepped up and held out a hand.

“Don’t mind him,” the guitarist said with a wink, shaking his hand firmly, but not making a challenge out of it. “He says that to most of our employees. Not that it isn’t true.” He gave the new cook a once-over of his own before releasing his hand.

And I didn’t think it was possible to blush any harder. Jonas thought to himself. “W-well if you’ll point me in the direction of your kitchen I can get started I suppose…”

“No yet,” Serta said with a grin. “You have to meet the rest of the crew first.” He looked up at the ceiling and a moment later Jonas realized he had directed his gaze to a small camera in the corner above the room. “Hey Ruus, why don’t you get our girl’s attention? Have everyone else come in too.”

“You had only to ask,” the A.I.’s voice echoed a bit in the larger chamber. A moment later two women he recognized spilled in from a door across the room. Several people followed them, most of them new to Jonas.

“Ladies,” Nicky said, bowing with a flourish. “Allow me to introduce you to our new cook, Jonas. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you who they are,” the guitarist said with a nod at the two women and a wink in Jonas’ direction.

The cook simply shook his head. The taller of the two, with her multicolored hair in a messy style no one else in the universe could pull off (though some tried anyways) was Sophia Aiara, the only one of the four who hadn’t come from the slums. In fact, her very wealthy father was the one who had funded the band in the very beginning, and given them a chance to get to where they were today.

From her clothing though you would never be able to tell that she had come from a long line of wealthy nobles. Her clothes matched her hair; That is to say most of it was crazy in some fashion. A fashionable enough green blouse was ripped to end at the navel, showing off the torn mesh beneath. Beige cargo pants, were tucked into black combat boots, and each ear had no less than three piercings, matching the one in her nose. This was the StarCrossed drummer, and she certainly looked the part.

The girl at her side was several years younger than the other three, but she was the spitting image of Nicky. This was his little sister, Elia Cole, the band’s base player. She was five inches or so shorter than her brother, and her coal black, slightly curly hair was grown to just past her shoulders. Her eyes were a perfect match for her brothers, and she too dressed all in black with a gold hoop in each ear, a leather skirt and matching jacket, black leggings and combat boots of her own.

Of the others, three were the guards considered necessary for anyone of any importance. One was a tough looking older man with a few scars across his face and salt and pepper hair, called Aris. The second was female, but she looked just as tough, that impression only furthered by the fact she was missing an eye. Serta introduced her as Jerri. The third guard was almost as famous as the band.

Jonas felt a chill travel up his spine as the met the hurrican’s eyes. Hurrican were a race that was almost extinct, most of them having been eliminated by the United Galaxy Federation. The Federation had hunted them for years, simply because they were so incredibly dangerous.

They were born and bred to kill, and almost impossible to destroy, a race of perfect hunters. Their hide was black as night, and tougher than steel, those claws could cut through just about anything, and they could survive up to three weeks in open space.

Meeting this one’s hard yellow eyes Jonas had no doubt it would kill him without a second thought if he gave it an excuse. They called it Ru.

Tearing his eyes away with a shiver he shook hands with the rest of the employees. There weren’t many. Two men, a blonde named Yuri and a brunet name Del, were in charge of keeping the place clean and general service along with a portly female brunet called Bella. A thin redhead named Sam kept Ruus in top shape, and had an amusing habit of pushing his glasses up every few seconds. Jonas gathered that anyone else they needed was hired on a temporary basis.

Once introductions were made all around, Serta showed him personally to the kitchen. “Here you go,” the lead singer said, watching smugly as Jonas goggled at their kitchen, his kitchen. He had never seen so much counter space!

“We’d like dinner around six if you can manage, breakfast at eight on the week days, ten on weekends, and lunch at one. The employees eat what they want, whenever they want it, you don’t have to make them anything unless you want to. If we want anything before those times we’ll give you a call. Prepare what you like, if you have any questions about what we will and won’t eat, Ruus should be able to answer them. Will that do?”

“Yea,” Jonas said faintly, now running his hands lovingly over the appliances. “Yea, that’s great.”

Serta chuckled. “I’ll leave you to it then.” He paused as he reached the doorway. “Oh, and you’re allowed to wander all you like, don’t be shy.”

Jonas put all of his concentration into getting the frosting on the triple layer cake just so. It was Elia’s birthday tomorrow, and he wanted the damn thing to be faultless. Not that he was a perfectionist or anything; he simply demanded excellence.

He had been with StarCrossed three months now, and he was finally getting used to the band’s antics. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be working here. It was amazing how snatching onto one opportunity could take him from working in a rundown restaurant in fourth sector to being the personal chef of the most famous band in the universe.

He had been nervous as hell when he served them the first few meals. He was a worrier he couldn’t help himself. But by some miracle they had actually liked his meals, and continued to be pleased with him.

He had been doubly nervous about taking their invitation to wander, but after the first two weeks Soph, the drummer, had actually stomped into his kitchen (his kitchen! He still could hardly believe it) and dragged him out to the living room to place Force (a complicated game that played on a consul hooked up to the screen in the living room) saying that she had already beaten everyone else, so she might as well see what skills he had other than cooking.

Since then he had gotten much more comfortable interacting with his employers and fellow servants, though the hurrican still gave him shivers.

Jonas leaned back with a satisfied sigh as he finished the final edging on the cake. Perfect. Absolutely Perfect. Now, how to keep it safe from the other residents… “Mmm, that looks good,” Serta said from directly behind the cook, making him jump a bit. The lead singer reached past him, looking to steal some frosting.

Seeing what he was doing, Jonas moved faster than lightning, grabbing a spoon from the countertop and whacking the singer on the back of the hand. “None of that,” he said firmly as Serta yelped and jumped back, rubbing his hand. “No one is to touch this cake until I present it to Elia tomorrow, understand?”

Serta stopped rubbing his hand and turned to him with a predatory grin. “Is that so?” Jonas backed away slowly as Serta stalked towards him, the spoon raised defensively, and wondered if he hadn’t just made a terrible mistake. “Well if I can’t have a taste of the frosting, I guess I’ll have to settle for a taste of something else.”

Jonas had hardly taken a breath to respond when his mind went completely blank. Serta was kissing him. Him, the lowly cook and…god, he’s a good kisser…It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this coming anyways. Serta had always shown interest, and he was certainly interested in the singer, but he never really thought anything would come of it…

The lead singer broke the kiss slowly, licking his lips. “Very nice,” he purred. Jonas felt his face go beet red.

“Serta,” Nicky laughed from the doorway. “Now what did we say about sexual harassment of the employees?”

The lead singer didn’t move away, and didn’t take his eyes off the cook. He addressed Jonas, rather than the guitarist. “How about I harass you, you harass me, that ok?”

At least there is one lesson in this, Jonas thought to himself. It is always possible to blush harder. “I…ah…”

Nicky snickered. “At least ask him out on a date first Ser. And back up a bit, he looks like he’s going to explode.”

Serta grinned and backed up, giving Jonas a little more space. The cook relaxed slightly. “Well, how about it? Come clubbing with us tonight?”

Jonas tried not to sputter. “I…uh…I don’t really have anything…” he gestured at his clothing. His best clothes couldn’t match what they wore casually, he couldn’t hope to dream of looking like anything other than a tramp beside them all dressed up to go out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nicky brushed his worries aside. “You look like you’d fit some of my things.”

“Time to play dress up!” Serta said happily, latching onto his arm.

“But the cake…” Jonas protested weakly.

“No worries Jonas,” Ruus piped up. “I will see to it that your creation remains undesurbed.”

“Thanks Ruus,” Jonas said in relief as the two impatient band members dragged him down the hallway. He didn’t even bother to ask how the computer would manage the feat. After three months here, he had learned a few things, and one of them was ‘in the house, Ruus is god.’

He found out a few moments later, much to his embarrassment, that Ruus had decided to distract the other members of the household. Namely by sending them to watch and comment on Jonas-as-fashion-show.

Thankfully only Serta and Nicky took it upon themselves to actually get him into (and out of) the outfits they tried, and damn if that stupid blush didn’t return every time Serta touched him. The others contained themselves with simple comments. Even Ru had a thing or two to say, showing that even a hurrican couldn’t live with these crazies without being effected.

When they finally shoved him in front of a mirror, his breath caught, and his expression was a source of vast amusement for the rest of the group. Who knew that he could look like that!

“Again, very nice,” Serta said with a sly smile. “Now, we’ll all get ready and head out of here. You go sit in the living room and try not to pull that pretty hair out. You’re cute when you worry, but you’d be less cute bald.”

Jonas perched carefully on a stool in the upscale club they had dragged him off to and tried to be inconspicuous. The others had vanished shortly after arriving, and after a moment of confusion, he had decided to find an out of the way corner and hope no one noticed him.

“There you are,” Serta said in his ear, making him jump. “Here,” the singer shoved a drink into his hand. “Drink that, and then we can dance.” Jonas blinked at him in surprise. “What, did you think we brought you here just to leave you in a corner?” Serta grinned and winked. “This is supposed to be a date you know.”

Jonas smiled back, setting his drink down carefully and getting to his feet, holding out a hand. “Then let’s dance.”

Jonas laughed as he tripped through the door, his arm around Serta’s waist. He was only slightly drunk, enough to make him bold, but not stupid. The others separated and went off to their own rooms, Nicky and Soph each dragging a pretty boy they had met at the club behind them, and suddenly Jonas found himself in a deserted room, staring into Serta’s eyes.

It was amazing how fast the haze of drunkenness left his mind in this kind of situation. The cook swallowed. Serta smiled at him. “According to Nicky’s rules, the first date is much too soon to take you to bed if we’re looking for a serious relationship.”

Jonas’ eyes widened slightly. He had hardly hoped to dream that Serta would be interested in anything more than a one-night stand…

The singer tilted his head slightly to the side, and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. “You can still kiss me goodnight though.”

Jonas smiled. If there was a place for hopes and dreams to come true, this was certainly it… “I think I can work with that.” He bent slightly and concentrated all of his will on giving Serta a kiss he would remember.

Not that he was a perfectionist. He simply demanded excellence.

fictionpress.com

2008-02-20T02:33:16Z

My Fictionpress account is pretty much as dead as my livejournal account, but eventually i'll get around to revamping it, and there are a few stories there for your reading pleasure. For anyone interested, my username there is RoyallyScrewed. I will keep this up of course, and hopefully my fp account will hook some fish to come read my lj.

Ruthless Drabble

2008-01-31T01:11:33Z

Since I restructured ruthless it's going a lot easier. This is a little drabble that I think is cool, it shows Diemzhon's personality fairly well (for those who havn't read the story, which at this point is anyone other than t, Diemzhon is the man 'chosen' by his god to unite the countries of Vesambe.)

Diemzhon did not bother to dismount, urging his Ombezi up the palace steps. He leapt from the beast’s back when he reached the main doors, waiting impatiently for his guard to catch up before viciously kicking the doors open. None of this cooled his boiling blood or calmed his rage in the least.

He tried to put trustworthy men on the thrones as his regents, but this only proved that he could trust no one beside himself and Isibane. He strode through the halls not slowing his pace, the small group of guards he had brought with him getting rid of any obstacles before he reached them.

When he reached the great hall the resistance was a little more organized. His men drew their swords. The would-be king of Aur lounged on the throne, a superior smile on his face, obviously certain that his warriors would destroy the small group of attackers. Unfortunately for him, these men were the best that were to be had in all of Diemzhon’s lands.

His rage redoubled at the bastard’s expression. Ignoring the small battle that was going on around him as his men protected him, he strode up to the throne, his guards managing to allow him a direct line, ridding his path of enemies and courtiers quickly and efficiently.

The last of the false king’s guardians died as he reached the throne and dead silence overcame the throne room as the chosen grasped his former regent by his gaudy collar and dragged him forward. “I. Do. Not. Tolerate. Usurpers.” He snarled into the man’s face before running him through with one brutal thrust of his sword.

He dropped the body onto the dais and took his throne, sparing a moment of thankfulness that he had left Isibane in Asambe. He knew the priest could be as hard as he was, but Diemzhon still didn’t like subjecting him to this sort of thing.

The five men who had traveled here, four of them as his personal guard, knelt before his throne and Diemzhon glared over their heads at the silent courtiers. “Let this be a lesson. I allow a regent to make decisions in my place, however I am the true ruler here. I will not permit a usurper to take this throne now or ever. Is that clear?”

The courtiers of Aur knelt in a wave to their true king.

He allowed a small smile of satisfaction to touch his lips, though it did not reach his eyes. He would stay here long enough to assure that his rule was stable and then the fifth man, whom he had handpicked to be the new regent of Aur, would take over. Hopefully this example would stop any more would-be-usurpers from coming forward, but that was probably asking too much.

Such was the life of a king.

7th Time's the Charm

2008-01-26T03:41:09Z

This is a short I wrote about Guild Wars, possibly the best game in existance. Both t and I are obsessed with it, is much fun. Danae Ashkevron is t's monk, Aren Dragonsflame is my elementalist, all of the other characters are fictional, though I'm sure there's some idiot n00b with no imagination named "Shadow Stalker" out there. (if that is your name, no offence^^) I did take a bit of licence with the game, but this happens to actually be based on a real event, specifically, t getting through the mission in one shot and it takeing me 7 tries >.<

enjoy.

Danae Ashkevron hummed to herself and stared up at the blue sky as she waited. This was the last mission in the factions campaign, and one she had only just now passed, thanks to Lady Fate sending her an awesome group. Her friend, the one she was waiting for, wasn’t so lucky.

The monk fingered a new wand, a smile coming to her lips as she examined it. The weapon was the reward she had chosen for finally reaching the end of the campaign.

She looked up as someone cleared his throat nearby. A rather young and mousy assassin shifted nervously where he stood by the rock she was sitting on and tried hard not to stare at the water tattooed glory of the pretty monk. “Are you um, are you looking for a group?”

Danae smiled in a way that would have made any of her friends wince and feel sorry for the poor ‘sin. She leaned forward and smiled at the assassin, mentally noting his name. Shadow Stalker. How pathetic.

“Oh no Shadow,” she said sweetly. “I’ve already passed this little old mission.” She patted the wand at her side. “I’m just waiting for my friend. He’s in there now.”

“Oh…well, ok then. Thanks.” He blushed wandered off to start yelling, “looking for group!” at the top of his lungs, though everyone in the area except for Danae herself was already grouped up. Noob.

Just then, the latest group zoned back into the outpost, shimmering portals opening eight feet above the ground. “Ahhhhhh…umph.” Their monk was the first one to hit the ground, groaning and getting to his feet to stagger out of the way of the other players.

One by one they appeared, taking the eight-foot drop and staggering off to congregate in a corner and talk strategy for the next try. A ranger appeared, but before he could get out of the way a tall elementalist landed on top of him, knocking him back down with a yelp. Danae grinned and hopped off her rock, recognizing her friend, Aren Dragonsflame.

Aren glanced up at the portal, and knowing what was coming, rolled off of the ranger and got to his feet. The ranger was just staggering upright again, when a gigantic warrior in plate armor dropped through the portal. There was a scream, followed by a resounding thump, and people turned to see the tank half embedded in the ground where he had hit. There was no sign of the ranger.

The players shrugged and went back to their discussion. Aren strode over towards Danae, bushing off the 15k Aeromancers armor he was so proud of, even though he was a nuker himself. “Well, that…sucked ass. How the hell did you pass this in one try Dan?”

The she-monk shrugged. “Good group, lucky break. Lady Fate smiles on me.”

“Well she ain’t smilin’ on me today, that’s for sure,” grumbled the ele.’

Danae smiled mischievously. “So have you given up yet? I have better things to do you know.” She winked.

“I bet. Knowing you, I don’t wanna know what you would be getting up to if I didn’t have you roped down here.” Aren shuddered noticeably. “And no, I haven’t given up. You know what they say, 6^th time’s the charm! Damn Shiro.”

“7^th.” The warrior behind him had finally hefted himself to his feet, and was looking rather regretfully at the dent in the cobblestones, complete with twitching ranger. “7^th try.”

“I choose to ignore that.” The elementalist straitened his armor, and strode towards the portal. “All of you pussies ready? No? Well, we’re going anyways.” He waved at Danae over his shoulder. “Toodles!”

As Aren strode through the portal his group vanished back into the mission. The still stunned ranger gave a little moan of “nooooooo, not again…” before he disappeared.

Danae only shook her head at her friend’s antics, and settled down to wait a little longer. “7^th time’s the charm huh? We’ll see.”

random twins

2008-01-26T02:21:58Z

These are my twins from bd. They are Aiden's little brothers, 3/4 dragon, 1/4 human, named Ace and Aloran though their names are currently trying to mutate, and usually quite adorable little tricksters. However, they also happen to be assassins, and their 'serious' mood is rather scary to friend and family alike. I was telling t that it's rather like a working dog. It's a normal dog, until you tell it 'working' and then it's completely different. To explain a little better I wrote her a snippet, and thought I'd share it with you as well.

Working

"this doesn't look so good"

Ace's eyes flicked to his older brother and then back to the army waiting beneath their walls.

Aiden sighed. It was no use trying to have a conversation with his brothers when they were 'working' it was like they were different people entirely......

Dissasociation. he had seen it in warriors before. He let out a silent prayer for his brothers' souls and set himself to waiting for the moment that this situation was over and he could have his little brothers back. Not that he begrudged their loyalty to the Mission, he felt enough of that himself...but when they went cold like this, he missed them....

*passage of time*

Aloran turned as the last of the enemy vanished into the hills and gave his elder brother a bright grin. "Did i hear someone mention icecream?"

Shann leaned towards his lover to whisper in his ear "what's ice-cream?"

Aiden gave him a grin equal to his brother's. "I think you'll like it."

Ruthless Intro

2008-01-23T03:43:21Z

This is another long story that I'm working on, though it's not nearly as big a job as bd. I've just started it, and though it is going slowly, at least it's going a bit faster than my Behemoth (which i have been working on since 7th grade >.<)

What I have isn't polished, but I'll put the prologue up so that whoever cares to can get a feel for the story and when I have more that's internet ready I'll post it.

This story does contain implied slash, though there is none in the prologue and nothing really happens between the characters for various reasons until MUCH later on in the story.

The prophesy at the beginning is compliments to my best friend t, as any poetry I write must be hunted down and put out of its misery before it can hurt anyone else.

*edit*

I have restructured this story and am considering doing so again, this is no longer the prologue, and I have added quite a bit of content to this section. Therefore, am removing and when I finish (sometime in the next 10 years hopefully), shall post. Will leave the prophesy for interested parties, cuz t is awesome and it is cool.

Prophesy

The celestial symbol over his heart,
The man is marked.
The divine thought his scripture,
The man is taught.
The fur of the dire cat in his hands,
The man is watched.
From now, until the end of time,
The man is chosen.

And into the world the man will be born.
Into lands divided,
A land to be united.
The fights never ending, he will win,
With the Seer by his side
With the Seer in his heart.

Thirst

2008-01-23T03:31:54Z

This is another bd story, longest one I have that is finished, it's not actually part of the greater story, but it does explain some of the background for one of my side characters, Corith, the librarian in charge of my dragon's collection. It's rather rough, kinda spur of the moment, but my best friend (the allmighty and awesome t) liked it well enough so consider it posted.

Corith was addicted to knowledge.

Of course, all dragons were to one point or another, but none of his brethren craved it the way he did. His thirst was unquenchable, as powerful as a human’s need for drink or drugs, and as undeniable. He would fly to the ends of the earth, and frequently did, in pursuit of a tidbit of information that had caught his ear.

Besides his hunger for knowledge, Corith was an exceedingly proud creature, quick to anger when slighted and slow to let his temper cool. His first love was information and his second love was his appearance. This dragon’s scales were of a deeper blue than any dragon in existence, and his color was his pride and joy. When he took another form, as his brethren had learned to do at the beginning of time, he kept his color, and his tail, for why should he give up that which made him beautiful? He did not seem to notice the odd looks and comments sent his way when he walked among men, his skin a deep blue and his tail flicking this way and that around his ankles.

Oddly enough, for all his wide travels, it was in the city closest to the dragon’s home in which he discovered an innovation of the humans that caused his joy to know no bounds.

There was a new instrument that the humans had created. It seemed like they were creating interesting new things every few years. Though he felt little more than contempt for the tiny creatures for being so limited in their personal knowledge, as a race they continued to amaze him. He had taken it into his head to learn the playing of this instrument, for he had heard tell the sound of it could make the hardest heart cry.

Corith slipped through the busy streets of the human city, oblivious to the way people stared, skirting piles and puddles of who knows what that always popped up anywhere heavily inhabited by the creatures he both loved and scorned. According to his informant, the new instrument was on display somewhere called a ‘library.’ He did not know the term, so possibly the building itself was something new among the humans. Perhaps it was a place where they displayed all of their new inventions. If it was, perhaps he would learn of more than music this day.

He finally spotted the building that had been described to him, and skipped most of the steps in his eagerness to see what lay within. At first he felt disappointment. The instrument was there, of course, presented in a glass case in the middle of the well-lighted room. But the rest of the building seemed to be taken up with shelves full of square boxy things.

He had hoped there would be more human invention here, but it did not seem so. However curiosity quickly began to overcome disappointment. What exactly could these odd objects be? The dragon pulled one off of a shelf, and it fell open in his hands. He stared for a moment at the incomprehensible markings, and then went perfectly still as he realized what he held in his hands.

Excitement began to well up in his soul. The dragons had no written language; their memories were such that there was no need for it. What a dragon heard, a dragon remembered. But what if there was no need to go seeking such knowledge? What if everything one needed to know what stored within reach?

He had known that humans sent letters to each other in written language, as otherwise the distance was too great for them to keep in touch. He had even carried a few from one group of humans to another, but never had he dreamed of this aspect of the art. He must learn the cipher!

A human slipped around a shelf, and seemed startled to see him. The man approached warily. “Can I help you m’lor?” The races that roamed the world were still wary of each other. There was only one creature that would venture into a human city fairly flaunting skin as blue as the evening sky. He didn’t dare anger a dragon.

Corith shoved the book at the man. “You understand these markings?”

“Yes, m’lor,” the human said cautiously. “All of us that work here read.”

“Then you will come with me.” The man yelped as the dragon seized his arm, hugging the book to his chest so as not to drop it as he was unceremoniously dragged out into the street. People stared, and then scattered, as the dragon shifted into his natural form, wrapping a claw around the man with the book before he had a chance to flee and find shelter.

The human screamed as the dragon lifted them into the air with powerful strokes of his wings. It occurred to him that he probably should have gotten himself and his burden out of the city before taking off, as the wind from his wing beats sent humans and their possessions in various directions. Too late now.

The human was having hysterics, screaming and struggling. The dragon growled a bit, and then called to the creature in his claw. “I will remind you that if you fall from this height, you will die. In light of that you may want to stop squirming.” His words made no impact. He doubted the man heard him at all. With a sigh he reached out and touched the human’s mind, gently. The form in his claw went limp, unconscious. Now able to concentrate on his flight, Corith made good time on his way home.

He laid the man out carefully on the edge of his nest of cushions and other soft things he had collected, and then carefully touched his mind again. The human took a deep breath, opening his eyes and blinking a few times. Then he registered that the eye directly in front of his face was the size of his head and screamed, scrambling away from the dragon, trying to reach the other side of the nest and find something to hide behind.

He didn’t make it that far. Before he was even half way to his destination, the dragon reached out and pinned him to the floor of the nest, craning his neck around to look into the human’s face. “Calm down, silly creature, I mean you no harm.”

“Let me go!” his captive cried, still squirming under his grip.

“Not if you’re just going to run off,” Corith said firmly. “No one here would purposefully hurt you, but this is a dangerous place for one so small as you, and accidents do happen.” He put a little more pressure on the man, effectively stilling him.

“What do you want from me,” the human gasped.

“You are to teach me to read,” the dragon stated.

This time the human went still on his own. “That’s it? You kidnapped me, knocked me out, and brought me here, just because you don’t know how to read?”

“I greatly desire the knowledge,” the dragon supplied.

Corith watched with interest as the human’s face turned red, the fear slowly being replaced by anger. “There are better ways to ask you know!” He yelled. “You could have at least told me why you were dragging me off! I thought you were going to eat me!”

The dragon snorted. “Eat you? Why? Humans taste disgusting, and you’re not even enough for a decent snack anyhow.”

“I’m not sure whether to be relieved or insulted,” the human said sullenly. The fear was gone almost completely now. This human’s city was often host to dragons, and growing up around something tended to remove the fear of it, even when it was big enough to crush a man like a bug and never notice.

Seeing that the human was no longer going to flee him, Corith let him up cautiously. “You will teach me?”

“I don’t see how I have much of a choice,” the human said, climbing stiffly to his feet to look up at him. “You owe me though, you overgrown lizard.”

“A deal then.”

Over the next few weeks, the human (whose name, it turned out, was Harith) taught the dragon how to read. After the first session, he managed to convince Corith to take his lessons in human form (or close enough anyways). It took little more than a week for dragon to pick it up. His people were fast learners, and he was no exception.

When it was time to take Harith back, however, he insisted he take the book.

“But what is the point of knowing how to read if I have no books?” The dragon protested.

“It’s property of the library,” Harith glared at him, tugging the book out of his claws. “You can’t just steal it. There are books sold in the market that you can buy, get your own copies lizard.”

Corith took his advice. When he returned from dropping Harith, and his book, off at the library, he was carrying as many books as he could find, purchased from various oddment shops. It had taken all day and quite a bit of dragon hoard to gather his little collection, but he considered it worth it.

Over the next few years Corith snatched a copy of every book that ventured onto his radar, reading them avidly, memorizing every word. A touch of magic allowed him to craft shelves in his dwelling, like the ones he had seen in the human library, but stretching from floor to high ceiling, with barely enough room between them for the dragon to move.

His friends noticed that he was becoming reclusive, but he could only be drawn away from his books for mere hours before he slipped away to return to them. The only time he truly left his books were to get more books, or to visit his human friend in the city. The dragons who called him friend thought it a faze that would pass, eventually, and left him to it, though they made sure he ate and slept if they had to force him to it.

He continued to collect these books, simply creating more shelves when he lacked room, until even in his human form he could hardly move between them. Harith, visiting to admire his collection, commented that he might as well have a library of his own. Corith, who had been lamenting the fact that there was no possible way he could fit any more books into his caves, latched onto the idea immediately.

The human librarian, who had been young when they first met but was not middle aged, helped his dragon friend seek out a new cave. They checked several, but could not find one of a size that suited them. After all, if Corith could fill his living quarters in not even a quarter of a human lifetime, he would need more room than any of the available caves.

They were walking side by side along a hallway when an idea occurred to Harith. “Hey Cor,” he said slowly. “What’s that room to the left there?”

The dragon glanced up as they passed an archway. “It is a large cave that runs from the surface to the very depths of the world. There is a wide spiraling ledge that follows it all the way down, and several openings in the sides to other parts of the Fissure. Since it is quite large enough for dragons to fly comfortably, it is used as a kind of causeway.”

“Is it roofed over?”

“Yes, the one thing that is often complained about is that the cave does not open to the sky, but as of yet no one has done anything about it.”

“That might be all to the good,” the human said, letting his excitement enter his voice. “Cor, what if we put your books in there?”

The dragon gave him an odd look. “I’m not sure I follow…”

“Just hear me out,” Harith backtracked to peer through the archway into the enormous cave beyond. “Look at that ledge, it’s wide enough for four dragons to stand side by side on it. What if you put shelves all along the ledge? Leave the areas around these archways open, and enough room between the shelves and the edge for a dragon to land. This could be your library, and dragons who are looking for a book can fly to the right shelves.”

Corith caught on. “You’re right!” He said, flicking his wings out excitedly. “This could work! I’ll have to get permission however, as this is a public area. But it shouldn’t be too hard, I simply have to link with my brothers.”

“How does that work?”

“Every dragon by right of blood has a connection to all his brethren,” Corith explained. “I simply need call to my brothers and if they are free they will enter into rapport with me. I will make my proposal, and they will cast their vote.”

“Will I be able to hear any of this?” Harith asked curiously.

Corith pondered him for a moment. “I can bring you into the link, I believe, but I will have to shield you, or your mind will be overwhelmed. You may have a bit of a headache when it’s over as well.”

“I can deal with a headache,” the human said bravely.

“Very well.” The dragon closed his eyes, humming under his breath. Harith watched in amazement as all of the dragons in his view, mostly those taking advantage of the causeway, landed and closed their eyes, mimicking his quiet humming until the walls thrummed with the deep music. Then he was drawn in.

At first it was chaos, the knowledge and personality of hundreds of powerful minds, overwhelming and confusing. Then a barrier rose between him and the chaos, a single mind, sheltering and steadying him. Though it too was powerful to the point of being overwhelming, it held itself in check for his benefit. As he steadied he felt that mind turn its attention away.

Vaguely he Felt the knowledge of their entire plan for the library pouring out to the other minds in a rush of information. This information did not touch him, and he found himself relieved. This was confusing enough already. There were questions from individual minds that he heard vaguely, and together he and his protector answered them. Then came their answer. There were a few dissenters, but the majority of the minds gave their approval in a flood of emotion that battered the shield between them and the human.

Then abruptly he was back in his own skin. Harith opened his eyes to blink up at the dragon who was staring down at him in concern. At some point he had gone from standing to laying flat on his back. He only vaguely remembered what had happened. A moment later he closed his eyes again with a groan. “A little headache? You have a gift for understatement lizard.”

“I am sorry,” Corith said contritely. “We have never brought a human into rapport before, I did not know you would react so violently.”

“S’okay, I asked for it. Now turn the lights out and shut up.” There was a soft chuckle, and a moment later he was lifted in a pair of strong arms. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, and a while later was set down on something soft in a dark room. He fell asleep almost immediately.

When he woke he sought his friend, and found him, presiding over a handful of dragons who were carefully (though not carefully enough by Corith’s standards) transporting the last of his books to their new home. The dragon greeted him with a toothy grin. “We set up shelves starting at the top of the ledge, these are the last of the books to be moved up there. I figured I could work my way down as I got more books.”

“Wonderful,” Harith said with an answering grin. “Now all you need is a main chamber where people can read. Though I suppose there’s plenty of room for that along the ledge.”

“I shall think on it,” the dragon replied. He leaned down to shove his head gently against the human, a dragon hug. “Thank you. This would never have happened without you.”

“I’m sure you would have managed,” the human said, but his smile belied his words.

Many years later Harith stood once again in the now familiar dragon library, to admire the latest addition, this time leaning on his friend for support.

The old man gasped as his failing eyes realized what they were seeing. Long ago he had made a comment that the library he had helped create needed a main room, and now it had one. Three dragon-heights below the ceiling that separated the library from the surface was a floor. A floor made of crystal.

A dragon artist, using his magic, had called crystal from the earth, forming a barrier across the top of the cave that the entire dragon population could stand upon without it breaking. There were shelves all around the walls, and scattered about were tables and comfortable chairs, both human sized and dragon sized couches. And in the center, clear of all obstruction, was an image in colored crystal.

A dragon as blue as the evening sky, and standing beside him, the tip of the blue tail curled protectively around his ankles, was a human. Harith. The dragon lowered his head to nuzzle his friend. “I know it grows hard for you to travel, beloved, but I wanted you to see this. You are as responsible for this place as I am.”

And Corith thought that the tears of happiness on the old man’s face made every modicum of time and energy worth it.

Intro to Behemoth

2008-01-22T06:26:17Z

There is a story in my heart that I like to call my Behemoth, though the true working title is Brother Dragon, more commonly referred to as bd. I don't have a horrible lot written, and I won't bug you with the pointless bits, but I do have a few short stories I've come up with in the process of developing my characters.

These two are possibly my favorites of any characters I've ever written and I think they're a good intro into bd, from which I will most likely post many drabbles.

As a warning, this is one of two slash pairs in this story, though I don't usually let my stories devolve into smut and there is none in this particular short, but WARNING, WARNING, tiz gay romance, get ye over it or don't read my shit.

Now that that's out of the way, I am forced to reveal that this was inspired by (of all things) harry potter, and laugh at myself. Enjoy.

“Aiden,” the part dragon turned as someone touched his arm. Shaan refused to look him in the eye, apparently rather nervous. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” the blonde replied, keeping his smile purely internal as he followed the taller boy around the corner. He had an idea what this was about, and he’d been waiting for it ever since the headmaster had declared that the school would be holding a ball.

The two of them had been spending more and more time with each other during this third year of their schooling. Aiden knew well how much the human liked him, and returned the feeling, but he had a strong hunch that it would be better to let Shaan take things further, rather than pushing for a relationship himself.

“Aiden, I was thinking…” he stopped, flushing, then started over, going for the bold approach. “Would you like to go to the ball with me?”

Once again Aiden was enchanted by the warrior in training. Normally he seemed so strong, but at times like these he was simply adorable. It was fascinating how a boy who had been compared to a bear for his strength and fighting ability could so resemble the stuffed bear that Aiden had grown up cuddling. What was even more startling was that he, who usually treated human lovers as something that would pass in time (he was immortal, after all) would want to keep this one as his. Forever.

The care with which he was treating this relationship was surprising even to him, and the depth of his feelings constantly left him breathless.

But he had left his warrior without an answer for long enough. Smiling up into apprehensive brown eyes he gave his answer. “I would love to go with you.”

The bright smile that lit the other boy’s face was all the reward he could have asked for.

Aiden turned from putting the finishing touches on his appearance to find Shaan staring at him, a rather glazed look in his eyes. The part dragon laughed, crossing the room to where his date stood and turning in front of him. “Well? What do you think?”

“You…” Shaan swallowed. “You look good.”

Aiden grinned. He knew exactly how he looked. Clingy blue and dark purple silk brought out the dark violet of his eyes and accentuated his figure. Touches of silver in the pattern and silver jewelry set with amethysts and more of that stone and thin silver chain in blonde hair that fell to mid-back finished the look.

Shaan didn’t look too bad either, he thought, as he reached up to adjust the warrior’s collar. He was decked out in black, a color that suited his darker skin, accented with silver to match Aiden’s getup. “You cut quite a figure yourself.” And how he loved being the only one who could make his unflappable warrior blush.

Shaan cleared his throat and offered an arm. “Shall we?”

Aiden smiled. “We shall.” He took the arm of the human he loved and allowed the boy to lead him from the room.

They had gotten a few odd looks when they started dancing together, but neither of them was the kind of person to let that get to them. It had been a blast, overall, and now, still laughing from the last invigorating dance they strolled hand in hand out of the great hall and made their way into the gardens.

It took a few tries to find a place to sit that wasn’t occupied, but they managed to find a secluded corner with a comfortable bench, and when Aiden cuddled up against the warrior Shaan automatically raised an arm so he could get closer.

The part dragon looked up to find his warrior gazing down at him. Both of them moved in the same moment. Kissing his warrior was nothing like kissing any of the other lovers he had had in the past. Before it had been recreation, but this was something more, something deeper. He felt like he could stay here, in this man’s arms, for the rest of his immortal life.

Shaan woke up slowly, and for a moment wondered why he felt so incredibly happy. Then he registered the warmth at his side, the arms around him and the head pillowed on his chest, and he didn’t have to wonder. He opened his eyes to gaze down at the one person he loved more than he had thought he was capable of.

Distantly he heard the bells that said it was the fourth hour of the morning. Because everyone had stayed up later for the ball the night before they had been given a little extra time in the morning, but now it was time to get up or they would be late for their classes.

As loath as he was to wake the sleeper in his arms he gently shook Aiden and murmured in his ear, “It’s time to get up, love.”

The part dragon grumbled but didn’t open his eyes and Shaan smiled. He should have known better. After spending three years rooming with Aiden he was well aware how hard it was to wake him in the morning. He contemplated his options for a moment, then paused as a thought occurred to him.

They were together now. Really together. Now, if anytime, would be the right time to live out one of his personal fantasies. With a rather evil grin that would have made Aiden quite cautious if he had seen it, he murmured again in his lover’s ear. “I’m warning you, it’s time to get up.”

Aiden made a vague negative noise and Shaan’s grin widened. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The part dragon came awake with a yelp as the warrior started tickling. Shaan soon had him laughing too hard to retaliate. “I. Swear. You’re. Going. To. Pay. For. This. You. Evil…” He broke off to gasp for breath as Shaan finally relented.

“Awake now?”

Aiden laughed breathlessly and finished his sentence. “You evil bastard.” He leaned against Shaan’s chest, cuddling up to him. “What a way to wake up.” When the warrior didn’t answer he looked up into the other boy’s face and lost his breath again at the expression there, the message as clear as if it were spoken. ‘I can’t believe I’m finally here.’

Aiden smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “Love you.”

Shaan gave him a startled look, and then a smile even more brilliant than the previous expression. “Love you too.”