The Sisters pt 2

Cairo paused in front of a mirror in the apartment block lobby. She carefully straightened her bangs, running slim fingers through pitch black hair to make sure it created the proper frame. It was cut into a dramatic a-line bob, making up for the fact that - unlike her sister - she was a very mono-chromatic person: dark hair, swarthy complexion, and dull, gray green eyes. She ran the tip of her finger down the straight line of her nose, before recalling what she came here for. It always paid off to look lovely while you did your work, especially since underestimation was one of the tools in her arsenal.

The apartment number was 703, and Cairo was a bit annoyed that the door had been left slightly ajar.

"That's right you idiot," she thought, a sneer marring her face, "close the door over but don't shut it or lock it. Over confident bull lover." One of her knives slid into her hand, the sharp, crescent shape of the blade glittered.

Voices could be heard as she edged the door open enough to use the sound to cover her entrance.

"You thought you was real smart, eh?" That was Nicholai. He talked through his nose. "Movin' here to hide behind those two bitches? What made ya think some skirts could stop us?"

Cairo's eyebrows shot up as her lips created a razor sharp grin. The thick rug in the hallway muffled the sound of her boots. She could smell macaroni and cheese on the air, a cheap, pre-made kind. Passing the kitchen, she saw the big bowl sitting on the square, wobbly table. There were peas, and chopped up hot dogs in it. A knot briefly twisted her stomach and she had to work fast to swallow her anger.

That was the same trick she used to get Luxori to eat her vegetables when they were younger.

Her other knife was now in her unoccupied hand.

"Please," said a softer, shaking voice. "I didn't pay, leave them alone. They didn't know."

"What makes ya think I care?"

"Daddy! I'm scared!"

Cairo pressed her back to the wall near the door as the child's high cry cracked down the hallway. She had to consciously relax her jaw to take pressure off her teeth.

"Luxi told me not to kill him," she thought firmly. "No killing."

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The Sisters

"The second in command, Nicholai, wants to prove to his boss--"

"That he's brave enough to step in on our territory," Cairo completed, flicking her head to swing her hair out of her face. She folded her arms comfortably over her chest as she gazed at the nervous informant, Tony.

"Does he think just  because we are new...?" Luxori let her voice fade as worry painted shadows into her expression.

"Niwa," said Tony, "is still a bit disgruntled that you kicked him out of this sector, but has personally accepted the payment for those with debts here."

"So he doesn't have his boss' blessing, then?" Cairo asked.

"No. I don't think Niwa knows what Nicholai is up to."

Cairo cackled softly, placing a hand to her chin as a grin spread her lips apart. Luxori's look of concern only intensified.

"I'll deal with it," Cairo said. She sat against the desk in the room where her younger sister sat in the executive chair. It had only been three months since they shoved all rival gangs out of Sector Delta. It was one that was right on the ocean, boasting access to an old, historic lighthouse that really only served as a tourist attraction anymore.

That's not why they took over the sector though. They took it over because they were sick of innocent people get caught in the crossfire of the gangs. Luxori couldn't go a day without hearing a story about some poor fool who got caught up with loan sharks. Cairo couldn't stand the smug expressions that dominated the faces of those cowards empowered by muzzle flare.

They promised that for every one person messed with in their territory, Cairo would go and return the favor times five.

"Please don't kill him," Luxori said quietly, after Tony had shut the door behind him.

"I won't go there with that intent," Cairo replied. Her fingers ran against her dual crescent moon knives, taking comfort in their lethality.

"Try your best to avoid it."

"Of course, Luxi. I know you don't like it."

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Alexandreta, Baldwin, and Karate

Alexandreta knew something was wrong the moment Be took her wrist. He was a jerk, and mean to her often, but he had never once actually touched her. Hit the locker above her shoulder yes, but even brush against a lock of her hair? No. She had actually caught sight of him slamming one of his friends into a cement wall after an event where she had been snatched by her waist and yanked back out of the classroom to be playfully - as the friend claimed - harassed into giving up her homework for copies.

He was a bully, but something was just so wrong about this entire situation of him practically dragging her into the dark gap between the gym and the main school building.

"U-uhm," she stammered, "B.. Baldwin?"

"Your boyfriend's just down here," he replied, but his hand was shaking even in its tight grip. "Said he needed you."

"Karate? But-"

"Look," Be said, shaking his head furiously, "he's my cousin so I do stuff for him."

Alexandreta felt the heel of her boot catch on crack in the pavement, and she fell forward and down, punctuated by a startled yelp. Be's arm wrapped under her stomach, his hand splayed against her back to keep her from having an unpleasant meeting with the cement. His entire arm was trembling from the tension his muscles were in, and his fingers began to dig into her back uncomfortably. She heard him let out a deep breath before he hefted her up, ignoring the shriek she gave, and pinned her to the brick wall of the gym.

"Bal-" Alexdreta's screech was quickly muffled under his hand. She closed her eyes tight, pushing her fists into his shoulders as hard as she could even though he didn't budge. She kicked, but he had her legs pinned apart, and one hand curled under her knee to lift it higher.

Alexandreta's brain ceased to function properly, it only broadcast to every nerve in her body to commence fight-flight reflexes. When her struggle failed to work, instead it activated a panic attack, seizing her breath and making her head ache. Her muscles tensed and shook as she felt Be place his head against her neck, his lips hovering just over the soft skin of her neck. His breath felt painfully hot.

"You fucking bastard!"

Alexandreta's ass hit the ground as all of her senses reeled back into alignment, her chest heaving as she forced away the tears and shock. That had been Karate's voice, and now she saw him holding Be's shirt clenched tightly in his hand, the other balled into a fist.

Be said nothing.

"Huh? What did you  say!" Karate bellowed, throwing his fist forward and landing a solid right hook on Be's cheekbone.

Be crumbled back against the wall and blocked the next punch, barely, before kneeing Karate in the ribs and then kicking him away.

Alexandreta jumped to her feet in a rush of adrenaline and waving her hands.

"Stop it!" she yelled, trying to push Karate away from Be and shoo Be away.

Karate shoved her to the ground and sent an upper cut right into Be's jaw, knocking him back into the wall where he sank down against it, his head bowed.

"Alexi, are you okay?" Karate asked, in a tender voice that made Alexandreta flinch. It wasn't right, it was... razor edged. "Come on let's get you some place safe." He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to her feet, then surrounded her waist with his arm and pushed her toward the exit of the alley.

Alexandreta felt her stomach trying to rebel against the natural flow of digestion, wanting to evacuate her lunch in the fastest method possible. There was a hollow sensation in her throat that she dreaded, and a burning sensation in her eyes that spoke of tears and shame. Although -

She whipped her head back to look over her shoulder at Be, who was still seated at the base of the wall where he fell. His hand was cradling his face, his nose buried in his palm and finger tips tracing his hairline. A splatter of blood hit his hand when he coughed, slipping between fingers and over the side of his hand. He was still shaking.

"You're so lucky I got to you in time," Karate was saying, squeezing her closer. "What were you thinking--"

"Be!" Alexandreta jerked away from Karate, and was only half startled when she broke away with ease. He must not have been expecting her to resist, and she raced back to the fallen bully, her heels scraping against the ground and she almost tripped on the same crack again. Instead she fell into a kneeling position and lifted both her hands, touching either side of Be's square jaw with just the edges of her index fingers. "Be... I don't understand..."

He jumped visibly, pulling his hand away to show trails of blood at the corners of his lips, and his eye was already swelling viciously. He stared at her, his amber eyes wide, and he looked lost. Alexandreta felt her chest tighten at that expression on his face, it scared her more than his glare.

"Alexa..." he coughed behind another spill of blood. He reached up but pain slowed his arm, and he was too late to intercept the hand that fell on Alexandreta's shoulder and wrenched her back, slamming her into the opposite wall. "Bastard!"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Ally-bunny?" asked Karate, his voice having lost all pretense of affection.

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Ballroom Blitz

Lucia wasn't sure exactly when the party went from pretty classical music and couples swirling around the dance floor to a no-holds-barred fight that apparently had several teams - though she couldn't make the distinction between who was team fangs, who was team blood, and who was team bats. She shuffled toward a wall as quickly as possible, her heavy, ballroom skirts rippling around her legs and making it a bit difficult to move efficiently. As she gripped her camera close to her stomach, trying to protect it from the same fate as her last, she couldn't help but wonder why she let Arianne bring her to a ball full of vampyres.

The pay was good, but she wasn't sure if it could cover medical expenses if she got pulled into the brawl. Her head was starting to ache and somehow the lights, though still on and at full brightness, didn't seem to be able to penetrate shadows that were leaking into the grand hall from all angles.

An icey hand snatched her forearm.

"Where do you think you're going, lovely," growled a low, female voice. "Come join the fun." With that, he twisted his hand and pulled with what seemed like no effort on her part.

SNAP. Lucia's eyes widened frantically as searing pain shot through her arm, into her shoulder, and tickled her instant response. She screamed, high and shrill, and continued to scream even as the vampyre who snapped her forearm in two let go and drew back as if she had been burned. Tears flooded her eyes as the pain became so acute that she couldn't even feel it anymore. She sank into her skirts, gripping her arm at the elbow and trying to protect the horrible damaged bone against her stomach.

"She's human!" she heard the vampyre gasp, and barely noticed that the entire ballroom had gone silent and still. Not a single vampyre was fighting anymore.

"You insufferable tart!" Arianne snapped, her sharp voice sounding like a roar. She dart out from the crowd, shadows surrounding her entire arm into a massive, razor-edged gauntlet as she went for the other vampyre's throat.

Lucia felt herself swaying back and forth, woozy and delirious from pain. It started to leak away and all she felt was a chill in her arm, and then she realized someone was supporting her in a sitting position. She looked once she had the ability to control her motor functions.

"Hektor?"

He smiled faintly, holding gingerly onto her tender wrist. One of his fangs slipped over his lip.

"Who knew such a soft speaker could siren screech?" he asked, bemused as he focused on whatever he was doing to ease the pain in her arm.

"Arianne, cease!" commanded a deep voice that rattled the floor under Lucia's ass. She shivered and felt her muscles, except for those in her left arm, lock up. She was paralyzed.

A vampyre, taller than Arianne by at least a foot, or so it seemed, had caught her by her gauntlet and was holding her arm up in the air to keep her halted. Even Lucia could feel the pressure of that vampyre's aura. His features were angular, cut sharp, though his eyes seemed to belie the sharpness in their look.

"You are the one who brought the human to this ball," he said, pushing Arianne back. "You are the one who put that make-up on her that masks her scent and heartbeat from us. You are as much to blame as Yvonne for not feeling the pulse in her arm the instant contact was made, or ignoring it."

Arianne scrunched up her nose, but turned her head away and huffed. Lucia could tell she wanted to argue, but was too smart to do such a thing against this vampyre.

"I will find," the male vampyre continued, "and I will punish the one who started this little ballroom blitz."

Lucia couldn't stifle her giggle. The pain was gone, or Hektor had done something else, and the very scene of that scary, very powerful vampyre singing "Ballroom Blitz" had forcefully invaded her mind. In the next moment, Hektor gave her a confused look before he let out a laughing snort, and after that the laughing had permeated through most of the great hall. The male vampyre just smiled calmly, folding his arms over his chest as he stepped over to investigate the little human girl.

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Lucia and Hektor

"As horrible as your crying makes me feel," Hektor said, "I know there is nothing I can say that will make it any better."

"But I just saw him!" Lucia cried into the phone, gripping the back of her kitchen chair with her free hand. Her knees were giving out on her, and she couldn't feel most of her body. "I saw him, he just left and he was fine. He was smiling and hugged me and was fine."

"This isn't a discussion we should be having on the phone..."

"This can't be right. He wouldn't do that!"

"As far as we can tell, he did."

"No," Lucia insisted, gripping the phone so tightly she heard the plastic casing crack in protest. "No he didn't."

"Lucia, you're going to give yourself a heart attack, please calm down and listen--"

"I'm not going to listen. I don't believe you!" Lucia hung up the phone and threw it against the wall. It broke in half before falling to pieces on the floor. She sank to her knees, propping herself up with her hands as her voice shifted from words to meaningless sobs and wails.

A heavy blanket landed around her shoulders, before the edges were pulled tight around her front. Lucia lifted her head to look at the worried expression of Meredith, who soundlessly wrapped her in an incorporeal hug and smoothed her hair. The next moment, Lucia felt herself rocking, then falling, surrounded by a fading lullaby that came from a distance she couldn't locate.

It still didn't make sense, but when did suicide ever?

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Apothecary and Alchemist Pt. III

Kenelm squawked like a rumpled chicken and landed on a nearby branch, glaring petulantly. His fur flared out to make him appear bigger, exposing the white base coat covered with a sleeker coat of mulberry. The mechanical horse just watched with a dumb expression on its face.

"Lovely temper-tantrum," Edolie replied idly. Her eyes snapped wide open when her brain finally made the connection. "Oh that's right! Sun stroke-- or was it sun poisoning? I think it was sun poisoning, this guy must've been working non-stop. It's been said that Mavens are a little crazy." She clapped her hands together with a short laugh. "Okay. So, to reverse the effects of sun poisoning, one must..." she trailed off for a moment, staring at the unconscious man, "...must... oh! Must bury them in the earth. That's right. Strange really, that the earth protects and heals them. Anyway, Kenelm give me the shovel."

That was when the strangest argument ignited. Kenelm screeched and tried to fly away, but Edolie was faster and snatched his tail. She grabbed his mouth and forced it open.

"I don't care about your opinion," she said. "I'm not digging a shallow grave with a spade, damnit." She plunged her hand down Kenelm's throat as he squealed in protest. "Shut up you stupid, racist thing!" Edolie rummaged around for a moment before she pulled out a five-foot long shovel.

Kenelm coughed and choked, kicking up melodrama over having her arm stuffed into the magical closet dimension that was contained in his stomach. It went ignored, like it usually did, and he huffed, landing heavily on the mechanical horse's rump with a low, grumbling growl. The horse swung its big head around to look at the creature on its aft end, then smacked him with its gilded silver tail.

"Aw, play nice," Edolie giggled as she patted the horse on the neck. It wasn't really as bad as all the other ones she met.

She then set about digging up the hole to put the Maven into. She'd never run across one before, only Adjudicators - children of the night that swore to uphold the etiquette and laws of their ancestors. Etiquette and laws that demanded the strong protect the weak. They weren't bad, just a little too zealous for Edolie to be comfortable around them long. Mavens were different; they were the spawn of an Adjudicator and a human, like Edolie. It was severely frowned upon by Adjudicators, as they believed they needed to remain pure to remain strong, and humans just feared Mavens, as they typically did not have the same diamond adherence to the Etiquette.

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Apothecary and Alchemist pt. II

Edolie shuffled forward, trying to peer at the man on the ground but she couldn't get a good look at him with how he was lying face down. She found a long, sturdy stick and reached out with it, prodding his shoulder and arm. She was well aware that the mechanical horse stared at her with that dead-doll expression that all constructs had.

The man didn't budge.

Releasing her stick, Edolie pushed her crossbow back into her boot, even as Kenelm chittered at her angrily.

"He's unconscious," Edolie said, smacking the strange ferret off her shoulder. He flapped his wings furiously to stop himself from crashing into the dirt, or a tree. "He looks... dead."

Ignoring the continued protests of her companion, she crouched down and grabbed hold of the man's arm. After a few attempts, as the black armor he wore was quite heavy, Edolie managed to get him onto his back. The horse snorted once, then dropped its head over her shoulder to stare at its rider. She idly reached up and patted it on its smooth, cold cheek. They would never compare to the real thing.

Edolie pulled down a worn, purple bandana masking the man's face and paused. He looked like some type of prince. His features were pale and pretty, with high, noble cheekbones and a straight, narrow nose. Even in repose, it was a face that both entranced and intimidated her. She rested her fingers against one of his cheeks, then pinched and pulled on the skin.

"Hey, guy!" she said loudly into his face, and got no response. Not even a twitch.

Kenelm sqwaked and shook his fur out.

"No," Edolie replied, her eyebrows furrowing. It couldn't be possible. "Well, actually... he is a bit too pretty. But then what could be wrong with him? They can go out in the daytime."

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The Reason

"Ah," he said, canting his head to the side. "I think I see. I have never required such a thing, but there are plenty who would call me a psycho."

Mathias then let his confused expression slip away and lifted his weapon in a salute. So now he had a minor grasp of how this woman worked, how her mind clicked and ticked.

"Well," he continued, "I thank you for fighting with me, even if you find it pointless." He twirled his jagged blade and knelt down before her, laying his weapon over his knee.

Alaria let her hands fall to her sides. For the first time in her well battled and very long life, a creature of darkness surprised her. His head was bowed, so she couldn't see his face or any of the signals of what was running through his mind. Not that she was completely sure she'd be able read those signals; he was an enigma to her now.

"If it pleases my mistress," Mathias said, keeping his head bowed through Alaria could still see the rictus grin slicing through the shadows with perfect white, "perhaps she could give me a reason to fight, and then we will both be very much satisfied."

"A creature of darkness would so quickly shed his convictions to fight for the light?" Alaria asked, a frown marring her lovely features.

"A long time ago," Mathias said, his voice somehow muted and restrained, "a young girl told me that there is no absolutes in darkness nor light. Perhaps it is time for me to prove her correct."

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Ulrika's Defintion of "The End"

"That's it," Suke said, shaking her feathered hair back and forth and plucking out broken and ripped feathers.

"That's not it," Ulrika replied. She winced as Gisil and Sypha fretted over a wound still oozing crimson laced with ink on her side. It had been bleeding since the battle, despite Sypha's magicks and herbs.

"Have you gone mad?" Suke said, opening her black eyes wide. She spat out a bit a blood, then gestured around to all the wounded that surrounded them in this haven of a forest glade. Trees were shifting occasionally, walking on their roots in patrols. Bear stood stoic over Ulrika's injured form, watching every movement of the two trying to heal and stabilize her.

"Everyone is injured," Suke continued, "everyone is hurt. No one wants to fight anymore."

"If it's one thing I know--" Ulrika said. She interrupted her heated tone to let out sharp cry of pain. Sypha had just poured another herbal remedy into the wound. The inky color seemed to let out smoke, and there was a distinct hissing sound. "I-I know that good always wins."

Gisil paused, turning his head to gaze into Ulrika's pain filled face and eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Suke beat him to it, laughing coldly.

"This is not some child's story! The good guys don't always win. Most of the time, it's the bad guys. This time, it's the bad guys. The bad guys win, Ulrika. There's nothing you can do about it. This is reality, and this is the end."

Ulrika grinned. It looked more like she was baring her blood-reddened teeth than an actual grin. The inky-blackness in her blood returned, and Sypha let out a wail of frustration.

"If the bad guys are winning, if they have won," Ulrika said. She inhaled deeply, and let her head rest back down against Gisil's thigh as he supported her on her side. "Then it's not the end yet."

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Apothecary and Alchemist

Hoof-beats broke the forest's evening symphony, racing at a gallop's pace. Edolie lifted her head away from her work of digging up a rare, hardy herb. Her long, earth colored hair was tied at the back of her head with long leather chords, but that didn't keep long pieces from trailing along her cheeks and framing a pale, slender face. She placed the roots she had gathered into a leather pouch attached to her belt. As she rose to her feet, a collection of small, bottle-like charms jingled from her belt and bandolier.

The horse was approaching her location, and, being less naive than she used to be, Edolie side stepped into a bush. She tugged her leather corselette straight and then pulled a small hand crossbow out of her boot. The arms snapped into place as the weapon was freed from the confines of hardened leather. Edolie crouched, kicking the train of material attached to her corselette behind her so she didn't get tangled up in it.

It was a strange occurrence to find someone was so far away from a town on their lonesome. Unless they were a Hellion, creatures that were believed to once be human but had their bloodlines cursed into monstrosities. Edolie looked over her shoulder as her little companion - an oversized ferret with black ram's horns and long, hawk patterned wings - poked his face past her's to stare ahead. His dirt covered claws dug into her bandolier and crinkle cotton peasant top to remain stable.

Edolie waved him back, then paused when she heard the horse dig its hooves into the ground and come to a sharp stop, swiftly followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. It was still out of sight, so she moved through the brush toward it, with slight caution but mostly curiosity. What she found was a tall, mechanical horse of a tarnished silver color. It's cog-work joints had plates of armor protecting them. Most fancies who could afford a metallic colored horse preferred to have all the mechanisms stylized and artistically -more like expensively - put on display. The horse was standing guard over what Edolie assumed to have been its rider. A man, wearing mostly black with a large cloak was lying face down in the dirt, not moving.

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Any Reason, He Just Needs One

Alaria frowned, her eyes sliding closed and her brow twitching faintly. She remained standing straight, her arms folded over her chest. Suddenly, the shield morphed into lances and blades of light, rotated around her body once to force a back step out of the dark man, and pierced into his body. He looked like a voodoo pin cushion come to life, with how his back arched unnaturally and his black hair obscured his face into shadows.

Mathias chuckled, up-righting himself with a sickening series of cracks as the weapons of light started to become corrupt with an inky blackness. They started to fall to pieces, one by one, each piece shattering as it struck the ground and was no more.

"Oh, what fun," he said. The ragged holes throughout his form made him appear as if he was made of nothing more than a fabric of shadow, but it had been far too long since Alaria was surprised by this. They started to mend themselves, threads of black reattaching themselves together. "You truly are quite a magnificent woman, Alaria."

"Some way of showing it," she replied, "attempting to rend me in two every moment that you are awake. You are worse than the Order that I am forced to be a part of."

"You do not find this enjoyable?" Mathias asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward. "I find the sensation one gets when battling a challenging foe to be utterly...incomparable." His red tinted glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, and he peered at her, waiting for an answer that he knew he would not be able to comprehend.

"When there is nothing to be fighting for? There is no such sensation. Fighting for the thrill of a fight is not something I find enjoyable in the least."

Mathias paused.

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Any Reason Will Do

Alaria leaned against a sheer cliff face, listening to falling water that was just out of sight through the forest to her right. It wasn't loud enough to drown out all other sound, but was still predominate. Her navy suit of plate mail glistened in the shafts of sunlight pouring in through the canopy, sparks of light racing along the silver embellishments and accents. She wore no helmet, so thick curls of brunette hair rippled over her shoulders, bouncing against the metal of her breastplate.

In a moment, arms clad in grey cloth reached out of her shadow against the cliff face and wrapped around her neck.

"Hello, beautiful," said a deep voice, before the arms tightened into a choke hold.

Alaria's reaction was fluid as it was instant; a dagger sprang from her high, armored boot and she jammed it between the second and third ribs of the one who seized her. She sprang away from the rock wall, spinning at the same time, and threw her arms out - one to sweep her heavy, midnight blue cloak behind her, the other to press her palm flat out toward him and focus her light into a shield around her. It glistened with her power - appearing as a golden mist encasing her body - cast a gold sheen over her, and made her hair and eyes appear to have gold flecks within them.

"Don't you get bored of this?" she asked, lowering her hand now that the shield was completed.

"Does a wolf ever tire of the hunt?" Mathias laughed as he pulled the dagger out of his ribs and tossed it aside nonchalantly. His messy black hair fell over his face, not obscuring the ruby of his eyes, and his smile was rictus. He drew his sword - a wicked item with a jagged edge made of blackened metal - and stepped toward her shining figure. His grey trench coat fluttered around his feet: it's movements were exaggerated as if the man was moving faster than he appeared. Today he had left it unbuttoned, exposing the black leather pants, silvered greaves, and the fact that he wore no shirt.

"Well, then aren't you just boring," Alaria replied, not going for the claymore sheathed on her back, passing under the cloak. "Only interested in spilling blood."

"Oh but there's such a thrill in it," he groaned, tilting his head back. A mild expression of pleasing memory flickered over his face. "The sound of life leaving the body, and the smell of fresh meat. It is exquisite."

Alaria sighed; all men were the same, even the inhuman ones. It was disheartening. Mathias' sword clashed against her mist, halting and sending a burst of sparks to the ground. Alaria didn't flinch, even as she felt heat against her stomach, where the blow should have landed.

Mathias' grin was homicidally gleeful now, and he pulled back only to assault her and her shield again and again. He searched for any weak spot, an exposed flank, but he knew he wouldn't find it. This woman's defensive abilities were more potent than her offensive ones. Something he couldn't understand, but he wanted to, so badly it hurt. He wanted to understand this strange woman.

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She Broke the Door, and It Broke Her Nerves

Lucia's limbs went slack, it was a miracle she remained on her feet, and the Sapere Aude fell from her hands to the floor with a distinct thump that went unheard. Her eyes widened, unbelieving of the scene before her eyes, staged in what was once the master bedroom of the mansion.

Hektor was strung to the ceiling, not by chains or rope, but by wild rose vines. The same type that had sealed the door shut, only these flowers were a vibrant gold instead of baleful black. His clothing was torn through where the vines were lashed, thorns digging into his skin and letting blood drip to the floor. He looked unconscious, and Lucia had no idea how long he had been hanging there, with the vines twisting around every articulated joint, his throat, his mouth, and over his eyes. Did they do this to him as soon as they parted ways for the evening?

"H-Hektor!" she squeaked, and rushed into the room. She flinched at the pool of blood under his body and the black markings on the walls. "Oh my... shit! Shit shit shit shit! Hektor don't be dead you jerk!"

He twitched. Lucia sank to the floor in relief, her hands landing in the blood but she was too distracted to even notice anymore. He wasn't dead. It took her a moment to regain her senses, and after she struggled to her feet and over to a heavy chair. He was too high into the air for her to reach, but she needed to get him down. She couldn't tell how injured he was - if he had been human she'd have been screaming her head off since there was no way he'd still be alive.

"Hang on," she said. She climbed onto the chair and grabbed the vines, sucking in her breath sharply as they dug into her palms.

They were sturdier than the ones on the door. Casting a frantic gaze around, knowing that each moment she took Hektor had to be in excruciating pain, Lucia spotted a silver letter opener on the bureau in the room. It gave her pause, since she hadn't noticed it when she first came in and she didn't think his captors would leave a possible weapon just lying there. Unless they were using it on him?

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The Very Beginning

Lucia tripped, falling to her knees on the wet stone of the sidewalk and dropping her only camera – a 5D Mark II – so it ended up crashing into the edge of the curb. It came apart into a hundred bits of technology, as if it had been made of spun sugar. The memory card glared up at her from a shallow puddle in the street gutter. Any hope of salvaging at least her most recent work to sell vanished, but she plucked the card out of the water with an expression of quiet reservation to Murphy's Law on her lean, doll-like face. 

“Damnit,” she mumbled, too introverted to curse, even when no one was around her. It's not like her employer would think she was lying, or would be angry, but Lucia could already see the disappointment drawing lines in his sharp eyes and on angular features that reminded her of a condor.

She grimaced, trying to keep herself from breaking into tears right there as she rose to her feet. Gathering the broken camera, Lucia wondered where the money would come from to buy a new one – there was no way this mess of plastic and metal could be repaired. Could she get an advance on work she wasn't sure she'd even get? It was hard being in a pool of photographers, all eager to take any job dangled above the proverbial pit, and all with working cameras – except her.

A heavy, passive aggressive sigh escaped her lips as Lucia dropped the broken camera into her worn out messenger bag. She idly traced her finger around the Celtic tree of life that was silk-screened onto the front. She couldn't just throw out the camera – her brother bought it for her after breaking into his college fund he knew he'd never use. Lucia didn't know where Gregor was, or what he did to survive, but she liked to think he got a stable job using his hands. He had always been good with his hands.

The city street was deserted around her, and Lucia paused to admire the effect that the cast iron streetlights had on making the scene appear darker rather than brighter. It scared her, no doubt, there was an unease churning her empty stomach, but it was beautiful. Even after living in the city for five years, Lucia never ran into any muggers or been assaulted – she'd admit, though, that probably had to do more with her only going to out work and grocery shop, and less with the relative safety of the area.

It began to drizzle and Lucia shook herself out of her absentminded trance. She shivered and yanked the high collar of her raspberry pea coat up around her chin. Walking the rest of the way to her apartment was going to suck, but she set out, focusing on the click of her heels rather than the chill leaking into her extremities.

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The First Encounter

"Did she send you?" he asked, leaning his shoulders against the wall behind him.

"Uh, yes," she replied. This was more than awkward for her - how was she supposed to ask this guy why he was hanging around outside the bar?

"I thought so, you don't seem the type to just approach a perfect stranger. At night. Near an alley. By yourself."

She shivered, and tugged her pea-coat around herself more tightly. Paranoia clawed up Lucia's back and made her take a reflexive step away from the weird man, only to have him catch her elbow, smirking. An elongated canine tooth slipped out from under the left side of his lip, and Lucia gasped, but couldn't bring herself to budge any part of her body. Even her eyes remained fixated on his. Had she been tricked?

"You're actually quite quick on the update," he mentioned, pulling her back toward him. "Most people swoon at the first touch, even something so light as the elbow."

"You're a vampyre," she stammered as her mouth came back under her control.

"Yes."

"You have me under a spell."

"Yes and no, your fear and shyness are doing more work than I am."

"Are you going to bite me?"

"Perhaps, do you want me to bite you?"

"No."

The vampyre blinked once, surprise etching itself into the set of his mouth. Collecting himself, he smiled more openly as he flicked his bangs out of his eyes with a shake of his head. His grip on her elbow loosened and he slid his arm around her waist, squeezing at the small of her back. Lucia's breath caught in her throat and she snapped her elbows to her side, clasping her hands over her chest. She couldn't help but notice a soothing smell of burning wood.

"You're very interesting," he said, tilting his head forward to look her in the face. "What is your name?"

"I-I'm Lucia," she mumbled. He was going to bite her anyway, so what else was she supposed to do other than not piss him off?

"It suites you, call me Hektor."

"Lucia!" Arianne's voice shot through the air, startling Lucia out of her daze. "Where are you?" In that moment, Hektor had vanished with only a cold wind to accompany the departure.

Arianne turned the corner and caught sight of Lucia and the frantic expression on her face melted to relief. Her heels were silent as she hurried over bits of trash and newspaper to Lucia, who stood alone, obviously shaken.

"I knew I shouldn't have asked you to confront him," Arianne said, guilt filling her soft eyes. "What did he do? Are you okay?"

"He was..." Lucia's voice faded away as she tried to put an adjective to the vampyre. She couldn't just come out and say what he was, Arianne would think her completely insane. The word fell from her lips before it had fully formed in her mind, "...gentlemanly."

"Really?" her friend asked. Her shoulders slumped, tension leaking out of her entire posture quickly. "I'm so glad. Angelos came back and asked where you had gone and he really gave me an earful when I told him. He was right too, it wasn't something I should've asked you to do."

"I'm fine!" Lucia insisted, waving her hands wildly in front of her chest. "Honest."

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Shades of Gray - Lizzu and Maes

Stupidity. Recklessness. Arrogance. Never should these words be used to describe angels, but as she sat in a cell in one of the higher planes of Hell, shackled to the walls on leashes of chains, Lizzu knew those very words were the reason she was here. Her first solo undertaking to the mortal planes and she believed she could face off against two demonics at the same time – even with the guardianship of Twilight at her disposal, she had failed. Not only had she failed, she now felt powerless, and diseased. An imperfection was festering within her, and made every single bit of her substance ache and twinge.

The walls around her appeared to move to her eyes – any time she focused on a spot the material seemed to flow outward from where she had focused. If she stared long enough, there was the hair prickling feeling of something staring back, and so she would drop her gaze into her lap. The floor was, thankfully, not the same, and seemed to be made of a single sheet of flat, black stone.

At first she had struggled against her shackles, despite fatigue and nausea, but soon she had let her eyes close and her body slacken. At that moment, the door which she couldn't reach opened, and in stepped the more sociable of her two captors: Maes. His mortal's guise – which he commented earlier that he felt more comfortable in – appeared to be in the mid-thirties, with short, scruffy brunette hair and a some more scruff starting along his chin. The body was rather slim, though throughout the fight as clothing and skin got torn Lizzu had found that he had formed it to have lean, very toned muscles. It was much like her own, except Lizzu's had the addition of an hourglass shape and additional weight on the chest as contrary to most mortal belief, both celestials and demonics had gender. Though it was less based on how they were created and how their minds viewed themselves.

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Cut Off

"Shit." Even her voice sounded different to her now. There was something harsh about it in her own head. "This is so bad," she added, gripping her hands together before moving them up and squeezing her wrists.

Ulrika had been unable to understand the language of this place for nearly three hours now. Confused and frustrated, based over terror, she had left her friends in the village. Even Bear had felt awkward to her, and that's where she had lost grip on her nerves. They were shattered and she was trying to not cry as she sat on a large boulder. The rock was half in a lake, which slapped against it in a steady rhythm. Its reliability helped Ulrika to ease her thoughts and try to go one step at a time.

A tear slid down her cheek, and before she could wipe it away, it fell and landed in the lake. She watched the tiny ripples spread out, breathing deep even as her lower lip trembled. How was she supposed to do anything if she couldn't understand what people were saying to her? Where was Bates? Ulrika paused, then squeezed her wrists and moved her hands up to her shoulders and hugged them. Was he okay?

She noticed larger ripples had come and crashed into her tear ripples, as if something large had just barely touched the surface of the water. Instinctively, she pulled her feet away from the water and scooted back on the rock. She had come to distrust almost every mundane occurrence that happened - first she had met a strange wooden spirit, the next time she had been nearly killed by a water lion who then decided that instead he would teach her to roar after she screamed at him, and she couldn't forget the raven lady who had nearly outed Bates but had apparently swiftly developed a soft spot for Ulrika and her platinum eyes.

A form slithered just under the surface of the water, breaching to expose copper scales that shimmered in the sun. Ulrika frowned, that was way too big to be a fish. Or at least any fish Ulrika knew of. Who knew what kind of 'monster fish' they had here? It was moving toward her swiftly, she could barely make out the outline of its tail. Rising to her feet, Ulrika moved away from the edge of the water just as a hand reached up over the rock - a human hand, with what looked like webbing strung between the fingers.

A man's head followed, with slicked back black hair with grey laced through it at the temples, and auburn eyes. His nose was perfectly straight and his cheeks were rough, the left had a scar ripping down it to his chin. He caught her gaze as he folded both his arms over the rock, exposing sharp fins that jutted out from his forearms, and scales speckled his skin the same copper color as his tail.

"Why such tears?" he asked with a husky voice, deep and gravely.

Ulrika started, she understood every word he said. This couldn't be real - she had to be hallucinating. Of all the creatures that she could understand without Bates near... it had to be a merman!

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Dierdre's Discovery

Sun. It's bright. It hurts my eyes at first but I love it. It makes me warm all over, all together. All of me, it feels like...

I do not know the word. I've never had one, so I forgot it. It's somewhere between the tanks of my family.

But! But that's not the best part. Cainus gave me a ball, and he said to eat it. It was red. It's blood was so sweet. The flesh was firm against my teeth and so it needed biting. It was biteable.

Then the things came. The looked like Papa but... but... their smiles were not cold, they were dark. The sun's light made their long teeth glitter and the sun was brighter because of the writhing dark in their smiles. My stomach trembled.

Cainus fought, and after he killed I fought too and it was easy. I felt good. But it was not fun. It hurt, they were angry like Papa was angry and I had to break them so the anger came out with their blood.

Then the Gisil came. He's bigger than Papa was, and when he smiles his eyes close and his cheeks have dents in them. He looks at me soft and likes to play with my horns and it's weird but okay. Then he picks me up and gives me what he calls a hug and I laugh and feel warm all over. He's like a Papa-Sun.

He has a Cainus too, but he is called Freykis and they know each other. Freykis can't see but he knows and the first thing he did was give me a bath with his tongue and I still don't know if I liked it or not. Clean is good. So it was worth it.

Freykis is worried like Cainus worries. Gisil tells me not to worry but his mouth and eyes and cheeks are sad when he looks at his bow and then at my claws.

Sad is not good. I won't make him sad.

So I do not worry.

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Gisil's Resolution

It's just a little kid.

No, seriously. Sure she's got some strange bits - like horns - but from what I'm looking at she's just a little girl with big diamond-like eyes. Actually, she looks a lot like her hunting-hound. So she's a Hunter. A Hunter with eyes that reflect the world she looks at.

That's good. By the way Freykis was reacting I thought I was coming after a Killer - I didn't think children could be Killers.

She's pretty cute though, except when she starts gnawing on my bracer. Still, if ever there was a kid who loved hugs, she's it. It takes Cainus grabbing her by the nape like a pup to get her to release. Not that I mind - being a Hunter is pretty lonely at times. Towns don't really get the difference between us and them. The girl would only freak them out even more, they wouldn't be able to distinguish her from a Killer.

I'll keep her with me. Freykis is still scenting something wrong, and if the girl is a Hunter then she'll be able to help. I can't say that reassures me much though - I can't swallow the idea of putting her against the Killers. She should be playing all day, until it's time for her mum to put her to bed.

What happened to her parents anyway? When I asked her she went very quiet and stared off into the middle distance, running mentally from the question until I changed the subject.

I guess now isn't really the best time for having kids anyway - not with whatever is coming. Freykis just insists we hunt more determinedly. The Killers' numbers have been growing out of control.

I guess Dierdre doesn't have a choice. Her play will have to be the Hunt.

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Gisil's Hunt

I'm a Hunter. I have a monster-hound who is blind. He's still the best, and he will be at my side until I die. I asked him once what he will do when I die – he was quiet for a long time.

We stay away from people because they aren't very comfortable with neither me nor Freykis. It's fine. I can't say I wouldn't act the same if the hound hadn't found me as a child.

There are monsters that will kill on sight. Some of them are human. They're called Killers, easy to remember huh? I was caught by a bunch of Killers, then Freykis appeared as if forming from the shadows themselves. I never understood why Freykis saved me, and he refuses to talk about it.

I guess he just liked my smell. When we sleep he stuffs his giant head under my cloak and groans whenever I move.

There's been something strange spreading through the forest and I know Freykis can feel it, but hasn't commented on it. Weird because other than particular personal questions, the hound is a critic of everything. I often have to grab one of his massive horns and yank his head to the side to quiet him down. Oddly enough the only thing he does not criticize are children. I think he has a fondness for them, or he just really wants pups.

Freykis stops, and lifts his head to the sky and inhales deeply through his nose. I watch a ripple travel through his fur as he shudders. A scar on my back aches. It is from Freykis stepping on me during my childhood rescue – his lethal claws had easily scraped into my soft flesh by mistake.

Just as I wonder what Freykis is scenting, he turns to me and shakes his head. The ache grows worse. I tell him my scar hurts, and he closes his eyes as if I just confirmed some inner dread. He tells me we have a new Hunt, and that we have to move fast.

Our actions will speak to either salvation, or the ruination of everything.

Freykis tells me that when I die he will sleep on my grave until I find him again.

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Dierdre's Ambition

I threw up.

It was red. I threw up Papa's blood. It tasted good at first but I do not want it anymore. It doesn't taste good coming out. My stomach hurts. Cainus says he worries.

About me? I do not understand.

I understand that Cainus was hungry. He was starving. Papa starved him to keep him weak said Cainus. So Cainus ate Papa. After I killed him. Then I threw up.

Tingles move all over my body and I don't like it – I rub my arms my legs. I brush the invisible dust away but still it tingles. I grip my horns and shake my head. Something is wrong.

Cainus stays in Papa's office with all the machines. He moves to the big metal doors that have never been opened. I follow. I hold his tail because I don't want to get lost.

Cainus says we have to get out. I ask why. He says there is nothing to hunt here, and I will starve. I will die. He won't. He will just go to sleep until someone finds him.

I am like him. I want to go to sleep until someone finds us. Cainus says he does not know how much like him I am. I am like him a lot. I tell him that. He rests his big head against my chest. He says he wants me to be just like him – exactly like him.

One time Papa yelled at me for playing with a lever I found. I pulled on it, and everything shook. Then I pushed on it, and everything shook again. It was fun. Papa screamed and knocked me away, then locked the room.

I tell Cainus. I cry at the end. Cainus licks my face.

We will get out.

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Claramond's Sight

I can feel it. Something is there. Something is coming.

It had been so quiet before, so I ignored it. It was a beat, a thrum. It pulsed through me far softer than a heartbeat – but cold. Why did I not pay attention?

It is not of the land – it is separate, but within. Sealed?

No. Trapped. I taste the suffering loneliness. The bitter tang turns metallic: blood. Echoing screams fade, and return as laughter. Red life decorates a child's lip, a child's fangs.

I struggle with the sensations. They are not mine, but they resound through me and I can't escape. There is an illness, it has been spreading across the land unseen and unheard and unfelt by everyone except the most willing to listen.

Hunters. Killers. They are the only ones that listen.

The priests, the scholars – fools.

The sun still shines. The fields still grow. The livestock are fat and the trade is good. All is well to them but not to me.

I am no killer – I am no hunter. I have sent some to their deaths, by my word – so by that there is blood on my hands that I cannot see. So I see the sickness – or is it that I am the sickness?

An image suddenly sharpens before my blind eyes. A dead human male, wearing a long, white coat. His throat is crushed, neck broken, the major blood line punctured. His attacker is shrouded in shadow, as if darkness itself is attempting to coddle the small figure – to protect it from my gaze.

I reach out, but a growl stops me. A warning. It is a sound I have not heard in centuries. What would such a creature – a monster – be doing there? What has that human male done? What did he bring upon us?

I blink and the image scatters. I see nothing. My heart pumps cold - pumps dread. We are too late.

A child will be our ruin.

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Even old souls can be little brats

"You little brat," screeched the pear shaped man in a rather effeminate way, "I need that!"

"You don't need," Mixxy answered, ducking under a curtain of ivy that hung in the door to the fort. Her tiny frame easily avoided the man's desperate snatches. "You want. It's different!"

"You don't understand," he wailed. His hands slammed into the ivy, stopping short - as if the ivy was a wall and not a curtain. He pounded his fists against the plants behind which Mixxy was taking refuge, the glowing white butterfly cupped safely in her hands. "What is this? This isn't fair! Come back out here."

"What a baby," she said to her insect friend, peeking carefully between the ropes of green.

"Mr. Trade!" The man had turned away, exposing more rips and tears in the quality material of his suit, and screamed into the darkness.  "Jack. I need help!"

"You cannot be serious," said a new, lower voice. It made Mixxy flinch and pull the butterfly closer to her chest protectively - it was a bad voice. "It is but a child."

"I can't reach her. She's gone into that shabby pile of sticks. It won't let me in."

"Go away or I'll get a bear to eat you, and your hat," Mixxy threatened, keeping herself out of view even as she tried to see who the other person was that the crazy suit-man was talking to. Jack's voice came from all directions, so even the nature-prone Mixxy couldn't locate where the owner was.

"Why you little--"

"Calm, calm," said Mr. Trade. The sound of crunching leaves reached Mixxy, but she couldn't see where they were being crushed. "It is quite simple, we flush her out."

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Never expect fantasy to leave a character frustrated.

Ulrika waved her hand violently toward Gisil to tell him not to follow. She knew it was the very first sword fighting lesson, but she still felt disheartened at the ease at which Gisil moved and struck when she struggled to even keep her weight properly distributed over her feet. It always takes time, Gisil had said, his voice stern but understanding. She understood that, and it make sense, yet she had still been hoping she had just an innate ability to kick ass.

If there was one thing she had to do when wound up tight, it was meaningless, steady repetition. Of anything. Blinking, Ulrika realized that she had stormed right out into the center of the fallow field, and let out a slow sigh. It would do. Kneeling into the dirt and decomposing plant matter, she started to dig. Her skin became stained with dark brown earth that had flecks of vibrant colors of purple and red, sometimes yellow. She couldn't tell if those were minerals or bits of plant, but what really surprised was pulling out a small, round object that seemed to be made entirely of wood.

After just a brief moment of sitting cupped in her palms, the object unwound tiny arm and leg like appendages and wobbled up to stand. Now it looked like a very round person, with all the weight down in the hips and a narrow chest. Its face was a leaf, with big, round eyes that reminded Ulrika of cat's eye marbles. It stared at her, then flapped its arms up and down and spun around delicately on one leg like a ballerina. It then squeaked several times in different tones, as if talking to her.

"Erm," she said, still confused on what it could possibly be. She reached down with her finger and held it out in front of the small wooden creature. "I'm Ulrika, hello?"

The creature grabbed onto her finger with both its little arms - which confused Ulrika even more because it didn't appear to have fingers - and shook it up and down exuberantly. Then it whistled and a small, purple flower bloomed on the top of its head. Ulrika figured this must be a good sign, the strange little thing seemed happy. Or it could be planning to eat her, but that seemed ridiculous.

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Unbound

"How are your senses?" Edwyn asked, keeping his tone gentle and low. The girl was rather jittery, and Alarik's boisterous speaking voice made her jump out of her skin.

"Everything is still so much," the girl gasped, her voice strained and unused to making pitch and emotion.

"Yes, well," Edwyn said. "We'll take it slow."

"Are you hungry?" Alarik asked, standing next to the bed where Edwyn and the girl sat. He leaned down, putting his face close to hers, and ignored Edwyn's chiding of personal space. "Anything you want, we have plenty of money, trust me."

"What's your name?" Edwyn said, waving Alarik away with a stern expression.

"Titania," she answered. She was wringing the hem of her tattered skirt in her hands, her eyes darting frantically between the two men who were much taller than she was.

"Ah I love that name!" Alarik blurted out. He clapped his hands - his smile was as wide as it was honest. Such a pretty girl with a pretty name was definitely something that could put the well intentioned man into a very good mood.

"Alarik," Edwyn said severely, puncturing several holes in the blonde's exuberance bucket with barely more than a look. "If you would please settle down and get us something to eat. You're rattling her more than those devices did."

"Spoil sport," Alarik spat petulantly, then shuffled off with a huff.

"I-" Titania sputtered, rubbing her stomach as if she had an ache. "I.. I mean it's okay, he's.. he's nice and I ap.. appreciate..." Her voice faded away when Edwyn lifted a hand in a gentle motion of requesting her to be at ease.

"I understand, however if he gets too excited he sometimes cannot control his own magic. He's been trained well, but having an element such as fire is very wild no matter how much control you have."

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Close on Mixxy

Mixxy was playing in her backyard when she heard the white butterfly scream. It had passed her earlier, when she had just started to dig in the garden to plant bulbs of bright yellow flowers that would balance the colors again. There was too much green. Mixxy had let it land on her hands, and asked it to play, but it had said it was in a hurry and had to leave. Someone was chasing it. She had been disappointed; the butterfly shimmered with a soft light and reminded her of a full moon in insect form.

So, she told the butterfly to go to the fort - the one that she and Antoine had built - it was safe there. The butterfly told her not to follow, it was too dangerous. Although Mixxy disagreed that something could be too dangerous for her, she did what the butterfly said - she didn't want to upset it more than it already was.

She knew it was the white butterfly that had screamed, she could feel it in the base of her spine. It felt just like when she went to get her hair cut and the nice hairdresser lady tilted her head back into the basin to wash her long, blond locks.

"Help! Help me please!" Mixxy heard. The sound bounced off the back wall of her house, and it seemed like it was coming in at her from all sides. The voice was barely a whisper, but it rang in Mixxy's ears and made her flinch and drop her digging tools to cover her ears with her hands.

"I'm coming, Butterfly!" she called back, cupping her hands around her mouth. Without hesitation, she ran away from her house and toward the back woods, pausing only to turn a small statue of a faerie around so that it was pointing into the forest. Antoine would know to come get her - he always knew, but she turned the faerie just in case.

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The Green Faerie

Ulrika ducked under the long branch that Gisil held aloft for her, and took a quick look around. It wasn't that she didn't believe her friend about "The Green Faerie," but where she was from that title referred to absinthe. A hallucinogenic liquor - illegal in her home country of America though, at least if it was distilled from wormwood with all its drug like properties intact. She was in a new, mystical land after all, but she just couldn't shake the train of thought.

The air inside the grove felt warm and wet against Ulrika's skin, nearly to the point of discomfort. It made her aware of each part of her body that was exposed to the air. It even smelled wet, but at least it was the kind of wet that came after a spring shower - earthy and soothing. In the center was a small pool of water that was an emerald color, with a tall, smooth stone covered in moss rising from the center. It was tucked between the curling roots of a great oak that stretched high out of sight.

"This place is strange," Ulrika said, catching sight of Bates settling onto a high branch to observe. That's all he seemed to do, was observe. He never really interfered with her decisions other than to devil's advocate her til she ignored him.

"So you can feel it in the air?" Gisil asked curiously. He didn't look as unsettled here. "I have never been here before, but I've been told only certain types of people can feel the presence of the faerie before she even exposes herself."

"So it's a real faerie?" Ulrika gazed into the green colored pool, frowning skeptically.

"Yes. Though if you can't sense her on your own terms, you can always drink from the pool to call her to you."

Ulrika blanched. So it was absinthe. This place had naturally occurring absinthe? She took a closer look at what she thought was an oak and wondered if instead it was a wormwood tree - but wormwood was a bush wasn't it? Did this place have wormwood trees instead?

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Will on the Weapon

Ulrika jerked her shoulder back, barely avoiding her opponent's strike. She was having trouble dealing with the reach of his weapon, a pole-arm, compared to her short sword. Gisil used a long sword when training her, but he had been focusing mostly on her footwork and having her use her lighter frame and flexibility to gain and advantage.

That was hard when the dick she was fighting had six-foot reach and could apparently use the entire weapon - blade and haft - as a dangerous implement. Ulrika had bruises on her ribs and over her gut under the heavy material of her tunic. It took all of her attention and whatever skill she had learned to not already by cut up and impaled by the sword-on-a-stick.

"You have surprised me," said Cristalf as he twirled his weapon around his body, "it's quite cute, actually, watching you flutter around my blade in a panic."

"Oh shut up, you pompous dick," Ulrika answered as she charged. She accepted the bash of the pole-arm's haft on her elbow as she struck out with her short sword. Already she knew she was too far away to connect, and that infuriated her. Why couldn't the damn blade just be longer? Even if it was the length of Gisil's longsword would be fine enough. "Damnit! BE A FUCKING LONGSWORD!" she thought bitterly.

The sound of metal sliding against metal filled the air, then it turned into a wet crunch, as if Ulrika had just sheathed her weapon into bag filled with meat. She stared, as did Cristalf, at where her weapon was impaling him in the shoulder. Red liquid was sliding down the black metal of her blade, sizzling before evaporating away. The short sword had grown to a hand and a half, a bastard sword, and before Ulrika's disbelieving eyes, it extended to the full, two-hand length of a longsword, protruding from Cristalf's shoulder.

"W-well," said the man. His tone was restrained, and he grunted as Ulrika wrenched her blade out of his body. "It seems you have won this bout. It was first blood after all, and I never managed to draw blood."

"How the hell are you so calm?" she blurted out. "You just got stabbed!"

"Merely a flesh wound, you did not hit anything important... now if you would be so gracious as to assist me to my horse, I have bandages and herbal salves that would be quite useful at the moment - for the both of us."

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Titles are still hard

"Gisil," Ulrika said. She was tying her hair back in a ponytail - she disliked sleeping with her hair down. "I meant to ask you something."

"What is it?" he asked, settling down on the window sil and resting his sword over his knees.

"Well, Adeptus ruled over humans for a while, didn't they?" She saw Gisil nod, his eyebrow lifting curiously. "And they live longer and are stronger than humans, right?" Another nod. "So, why are humans still around?"

"Your history really is rusty, isn't it?" he asked. He began to play with the hilt of his sword, rubbing his thumb over the intricate inlay. "Well, to put it simply, for every one female Adeptus child born, there are hundreds if not thousands of males. Female children are very rare, which is not so for humans. It's about one to one for them."

Ulrika tilted her head, a bit confused. Now, she wasn't a genius when it came to biology, but if an Adeptus and a human had a kid, wouldn't that just make a half breed? Something on her face must've spoken of her thoughts because Gisil continued.

"A child of an Adeptus will always be an Adeptus," he explained. "So even if the mother is human, the child will be Adeptus. Though, it still has the high chance of being male due to the Adeptus blood."

"So that's why all the raping happened, I suppose," Ulrika said quietly. It was sick, but she had to concede that if that was the only way to continue their race, she couldn't exactly hate the lot of them for it. Her stomach churned - it disgusted her that she had nearly condoned rape. She reaffirmed that they could've done it the old fashioned way: courting and all that. A realization dawned on her. "Uh, Gisil... your mother..."

Gisil bowed his head for a moment, remaining quiet. A sour taste flooded Ulrika's palette. That was such a bad thing to ask. She had to remember that if she asked a question, she was going to get an answer. The answer wasn't always going to be the one she wanted.

"You know," Gisil said suddenly, startling Ulrika into paying attention. "A lot of people think that you're the weaker sex, but I'd like to see them do what my mother did. You see Adeptus would use a cruel ploy to trick women into bed; they would tell them that if the child was a boy then the Adeptus takes him, and if it is a girl, the mother gets to keep her."

"But isn't it known that it is highly likely that the baby will be a boy?"

"Humans are interesting in that if you give them a small bit of hope, they will cling to it and nurture it and never let it die until it is murdered."

"So how'd your mother keep you?"

"She convinced the midwife to lie, and say I was a girl." Gisil's lips spread in a smile as he rested his head back against the wall. His eyes were distant, but in a warming way. "She fought and risked her life for a child that she didn't want in the first place, from an act that she had no choice in."

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Titles are Hard

"Yes, thank you so much," Ulrika said shortly as she flipped the arrogant knight the bird. She glared as he walked off with his self importance holding his head high, and half her purse in his pocket. It was a moment before she realized that a small child and his slightly older sister were standing right next to her, holding on her cloak curiously.

"Miss? Miss!" the boy said, his brown eyes open so wide Ulrika was afraid they'd fall out of his head. "What does this mean?" he asked, and he stuck up his middle finger at her.

Ulrika paused, then rubbed the back of her head, feeling a sour weight land in her stomach. Damn what was she supposed to tell the kid? That was probably the reason why the knight just left without threatening her some more with jail time for not paying a traveling tax. Or whatever it was that he claimed, Ulrika had stopped listening. The only reason she paid was because she didn't want to keep using Gisil as a "get-out-of-fights-she-picked-free" card.

"Well, uhm," she said, then grinned. "It means 'Have a nice day!' You can use it both as a greeting and a good bye!"

The children's mouth gaped open, and Ulrika saw the boy was missing his incisor and the girl had her adult front teeth crowding the baby ones. She glanced around, but the handful of adults that were still paying attention after the argument looked just as curious and interested. So the middle finger didn't exist here? Sweet.

"I'm going to use that all the time!" said the girl happily. "Mamaaa! Mama! Look at what I learned from the nice traveling lady." She grabbed the boy's wrist and ran off with him, both holding their middle fingers aloft.

Ulrika was trying hard to not tear up from laughter.

"Clever," said the raven Bates as he fluttered down and alighted on her shoulder. "What will happen if another of your people ends up here?"

"Too bad," Ulrika said, "I got here first."

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Unleashed

The scream escalated so sharply that the not was like sand paper against Ulrika's vocal chords. As it died away she fell forward; her weight distributed itself over her hands, knees, and the balls of her feet. Then her stomach seized, her throat opened wide, and her lungs expanded to their fullest. She let out a roar that shook the very foundations of the keep, her spine curling violently to accommodate the force that her body shouldn't have been able to make.

Tears fell down her cheeks, leaving streams of chill on her heated skin. Ulrika glared at the gathered soldiers of Thyne as they stumbled back from the reverberations through mortar and stone all around them. She inhaled, her heart trembling under each beat. She arched her back, lifting her torso back over her knees. Splaying her fingers, Ulrika unleashed another roar that she nearly choked on. She could feel the power rattle down each vertebrae, and through an extension of her spine that she didn't have - a tail.

After the sound faded, fatigue dropped her on her hip, panting.

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The Panther

Wow, panther. Pretty panther, with strong, hidden stitches along faint seams that I can't see but I can feel. Being trapped must be so hard, are you hot in that thing that shows your inside and hides your outside? What big eyes you have, too big and you stand on two legs but meander around in the same, silently powerful way as your brothers and sisters who have outsides like their insides. The stitches are hidden under shiny, smooth, black fur that you shouldn't lick. It needs to be dry cleaned. So you stand on two legs, pretty panther, and gaze at me with a fixed expression - mouth open wide - so I can't see how you truly express, how your face says what you want that thing that tells us your insides to show.

Can you even see me through the barely sheer veil that emulates a gaping maw but really keeps me from seeing what your face says? What it says that people ignore in favor of judging too big eyes, and stitches hidden in shiny, black fur that has to be dry cleaned and not licked. You put your hands over the gaping maw with the thin veil so it looks like you're laughing but I know you're hiding inside the thing that shows your inside.

It's okay - I'll give you a hug if you promise not to pretend to eat me.

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A Warning

A great pain. It is not of the planet. It is apart, but within. It's cries ripple through the world. Beyond the northern mountains in the great desert. It's cries are heard by one like in this place. He will be here soon. 

Cecilia let out her breath in a short huff, resting her hand on her stomach. The nausea had returned with a vengeance in the middle of the night, but it was worse now that she could tell it was detached. She could feel the thin threads of disorientation pulling on her limbs and head. Ever since Claramond, her purple, squirrel-fox like guardian, had spoke to her of the sensation she had noticed that it wasn't her body the felt ill, just her body resonating with the illness of another that needed help.

"How soon is soon?" she asked the guardian as he perched, wrapped around her shoulders. "The feeling is only getting worse." How long would she have to wait to be able to do something about it? It had been hours.

She paced her office in the forest adapted citadel, pausing only to rest her hand occasionally on one of the many thick trunks that ran right through the stonework. How would this person even know to come to her office?

You need to stop thinking so much and just wait, said Claramod without moving his mouth.

"That's easy for you to say," Cecilia replied. A curt knock on the heavy wooden door cut of her train of thought. "Come in then."

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Midgard

Silent steps on bare feet brought a girl between tree trunks. Shards of broken egg shell had been half woven, half caught in her hair - she had bangs of sunlight blonde and behind her ears it changed to the color of fertile soil. Behind each foot fall slithered a massive serpent, a river of glistening scales winding its way through the undergrowth.

Midgard's head was held up, not paying attention to her feet as she made her way at an unhurried pace. She explored - that's what she did. The lands around her when she first opened her eyes were unfamiliar to her, yet she knew they were hers. Shafts of sunlight caught her eyes - one was navy blue with a splash of gold, while the other was gold with a splash of navy blue. She had collections of minor cuts and scratches on the parts of her body that weren't covered by the fur of a great stag.

The serpent hissed.

"No," Midgard replied, bending down to stroke his triangular head. "Not hungry yet."

A crack made the girl turn her head quickly, and it was followed by a soft crick and then a wet crackle. Curiosity peaked, Midgard wandered over with eyes open and hands stretching to part brush aside. It took only a moment for her to find a broken egg, and her chest tightened. Recognizing it as the pattern of a red kite, she crouched down while slowly turning the egg over, the slender finger shaking as it touched cool shell.

A fully, wet fluffed, yet not quite strong enough, chick had broken out of the fragile fortress and had died before Midgard could find it. She poked it once.

"Wake up," she said quietly. Its little eyes were closed, and it might be hurt. "Why won't it wake up Jormungandr?"

The serpent opened his mouth, then closed it and let out a low, rattle.

"Dead?

Midgard lifted her head as Jormungandr coiled around her and rested his head on her shoulder. Quietness passed between them but Midgard could feel his words with the rhythm of his muscles contracting and relaxing. She didn't understand. The bird wasn't going to wake up, and was going to sleep forever. It was gone - that was mortality. Something in it scared her, though not as much as fire terrified her. A shadowy serpent coiled around her heart and made it beat faster, panicked.

"I don't like it. Make it stop!" she cried, confused on where the sudden outburst came from. She scrambled to her feet as Jormungandr dropped away from her form, and ran away from the egg. From the dead thing.

The blue serpent watched, and then turned, opening his great mouth and gobbled the chick up in one swift movement. Then he followed Midgard's warmth.

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