Naomi shielded her eyes from the sun, squinting up into the sky to catch the fleeting glint of light that signified the space shuttle passing overhead as it launched into space. She pursed her lips, a determined set to her jaw as she followed it until it could no longer be seen by the naked eye.
She knew that shuttle was taking a crew to the space station, where they would begin training for their long journey to Mars. That crew were specialists being sent in to pad the population of the Mars colony that had been placed several years before.
Naomi had always loved Mars, but she wanted to be part of something bigger. That was why she was here, as an applicant to a special program that would train a wide group of people, from graduating high school students to tenured scientists, for the first colonial expedition to Europa.
The ships that were being designed even now were supposed to not only transport them, but dig through the ice to reach the liquid ocean below. From there, it would act as the living quarters. Twelve ships would go over the course of four years.
The idea was to take oxygen from the water for their air. The separated hydrogen would be used for energy. Water was abundant, and the probe that had been sent earlier in the year, once it had tunneled through and reached the liquid water, had sent back news that it was drinkable. They could grow plants in a ship designed for hydroponics. Eventually they could build other habitats.
Naomi wanted to be a part of that project. But first she had to pass the tests. She dropped her hand and turned toward the space center that sprawled out in front of her, squaring her shoulders. She would make it. She had to.
27 May 2010
Into the Light
There was a door in the middle of a field.
Not just any old door, either, lying about, forgotten and alone, left to rot and fall apart. No, this door was upright. Nothing he could do would make it budge from where it stood solidly, threshold firmly planted in the ground. It was green, and had kind of eerie, sickly glow seeping around the edges and through the keyhole.
Adam frowned and walked around the door once, twice, three times, inspecting it from top to bottom. There were no anchors helping it to stay up, at least none that he could see.
On the side he stood on, the field had been somewhat trampled, flattened to make a sort of golden pathway that lead up to the doorway. He raised a hand, curled it into a fist, and moved to knock on the door.
Adam was startled when his fist moved through the air, connecting with... nothing. The door swung open, blinding him momentarily with a pale yellowish-green light.
If anyone had been watching, they might have said it looked almost as if he had been enveloped by it. Adam certainly felt that way. If light could create feelings beyond warmth, he would say this light made him queasy, even uncomfortable. It gave him a headache, caused his awareness to grow fuzzy, almost as if he were drunk.
He stumbled, felt a toe stub against the threshold, causing him to trip, his body passing through the doorway. He fell, continued to fall, felt as if he were weightless and yet knew with certainty that he was so heavy that gravity would catch him, yank him down, far below - so far that he couldn't even see - and slam him into earth. He would die. Perhaps he was already dead.
Adam had no idea what was going to happen to him.
And to be honest, neither did the light that had pulled him in.
Not just any old door, either, lying about, forgotten and alone, left to rot and fall apart. No, this door was upright. Nothing he could do would make it budge from where it stood solidly, threshold firmly planted in the ground. It was green, and had kind of eerie, sickly glow seeping around the edges and through the keyhole.
Adam frowned and walked around the door once, twice, three times, inspecting it from top to bottom. There were no anchors helping it to stay up, at least none that he could see.
On the side he stood on, the field had been somewhat trampled, flattened to make a sort of golden pathway that lead up to the doorway. He raised a hand, curled it into a fist, and moved to knock on the door.
Adam was startled when his fist moved through the air, connecting with... nothing. The door swung open, blinding him momentarily with a pale yellowish-green light.
If anyone had been watching, they might have said it looked almost as if he had been enveloped by it. Adam certainly felt that way. If light could create feelings beyond warmth, he would say this light made him queasy, even uncomfortable. It gave him a headache, caused his awareness to grow fuzzy, almost as if he were drunk.
He stumbled, felt a toe stub against the threshold, causing him to trip, his body passing through the doorway. He fell, continued to fall, felt as if he were weightless and yet knew with certainty that he was so heavy that gravity would catch him, yank him down, far below - so far that he couldn't even see - and slam him into earth. He would die. Perhaps he was already dead.
Adam had no idea what was going to happen to him.
And to be honest, neither did the light that had pulled him in.
14 May 2010
Creative Strides
The eraser end of a pencil tapped a muffled rhythm against the table, a testament to the annoyance of its holder. The meeting had been dragging on for what felt like hours, and all that happened was that she had been getting more and more irritated. The people she was in charge of just couldn't seem to understand what they were supposed to be doing.
Their training hadn't prepared them for everything, true, but what happened to common sense? If you know the basic rules, then it should follow that common sense plus those basic rules should give them some idea of how to handle certain situations.
For instance, the paper pushers knew that they had to fill out the paperwork a certain way. If they came across information that needed to be input that did not fit the general parameters that they had been trained, then they went over it, sometimes with each others, sometimes with her, until they figured out what should go where and how.
And those were the desk jockeys, the people who would never do much more with their lives!
But when she had to sit in a five-hour meeting with her scientists, all because they couldn't figure out how to go about making a particular piece of equipment work, she wanted to scream.
Her frustration grew until she snapped the pencil, startling everyone at the table. Taking a deep breath and expelling it slowly, calming herself down, she looked at all of them, one by one. "The training you were given for that piece of equipment did not, I understand, give directions on what to do if a link failed, because it was not expected to fail. However, I also understand that the links are metal. Find a suitable replacement - wedding rings, paperclips, a staple, something, but fix it, and fix it now. We can't afford to have the reactor offline for much longer."
She waved her hands, shooing them away in a clear dismissal, and turned to look at the map of the facility, steepling her fingers together. Minor snags, but annoying ones, and preventing their work from proceeding on schedule. The reactor had to be completed by the end of the month, or there would be hell for all of them to pay.
Their training hadn't prepared them for everything, true, but what happened to common sense? If you know the basic rules, then it should follow that common sense plus those basic rules should give them some idea of how to handle certain situations.
For instance, the paper pushers knew that they had to fill out the paperwork a certain way. If they came across information that needed to be input that did not fit the general parameters that they had been trained, then they went over it, sometimes with each others, sometimes with her, until they figured out what should go where and how.
And those were the desk jockeys, the people who would never do much more with their lives!
But when she had to sit in a five-hour meeting with her scientists, all because they couldn't figure out how to go about making a particular piece of equipment work, she wanted to scream.
Her frustration grew until she snapped the pencil, startling everyone at the table. Taking a deep breath and expelling it slowly, calming herself down, she looked at all of them, one by one. "The training you were given for that piece of equipment did not, I understand, give directions on what to do if a link failed, because it was not expected to fail. However, I also understand that the links are metal. Find a suitable replacement - wedding rings, paperclips, a staple, something, but fix it, and fix it now. We can't afford to have the reactor offline for much longer."
She waved her hands, shooing them away in a clear dismissal, and turned to look at the map of the facility, steepling her fingers together. Minor snags, but annoying ones, and preventing their work from proceeding on schedule. The reactor had to be completed by the end of the month, or there would be hell for all of them to pay.
12 May 2010
Impossibilities
John leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling as if it contained all of life's answers. Of course, he knew it didn't, but it was still an interesting exercise, and sometimes there were amusing things to be discovered.
Once, he had seen a smear that looked suspiciously like grape jelly, though he hadn't been entirely sure, and definitely wouldn't have checked.
That had been his life. Work, which was boring, led to ceiling staring in the hopes that it would contain something that might alleviate the routine that had dominated his life the past few years.
He blinked, shaking his head slightly, and stared at the ceiling again. Was it... moving? That was impossible. There was no way the ceiling could move. Maybe if it had been that floating drop ceiling, standard in so many cubicle offices, but this wasn't your standard office building.
That ceiling should not be moving.
A low rumbling started, building up steadily until it shook the entire building, causing the chair he was in to slide from one side to the other, though he barely felt the movement.
It felt like an earthquake, but that was impossible. Earthquakes were impossible on Luna.
Alarm lights flashed on, accompanied by a wailing siren, and John bolted upright, grabbing for the shock baton attached to the bottom of his desk. That was the attack klaxon. Who the hell would be invading Luna, of all places?
Once, he had seen a smear that looked suspiciously like grape jelly, though he hadn't been entirely sure, and definitely wouldn't have checked.
That had been his life. Work, which was boring, led to ceiling staring in the hopes that it would contain something that might alleviate the routine that had dominated his life the past few years.
He blinked, shaking his head slightly, and stared at the ceiling again. Was it... moving? That was impossible. There was no way the ceiling could move. Maybe if it had been that floating drop ceiling, standard in so many cubicle offices, but this wasn't your standard office building.
That ceiling should not be moving.
A low rumbling started, building up steadily until it shook the entire building, causing the chair he was in to slide from one side to the other, though he barely felt the movement.
It felt like an earthquake, but that was impossible. Earthquakes were impossible on Luna.
Alarm lights flashed on, accompanied by a wailing siren, and John bolted upright, grabbing for the shock baton attached to the bottom of his desk. That was the attack klaxon. Who the hell would be invading Luna, of all places?
The Hunt
Reynault jolted awake, his spine colliding with the tree behind him as he shot upright. He gave a low groan, ignoring the pain, and looked around for the source of the disturbance that had brought him from a sound sleep. Shrubs nearby rustled, but his sensitive ears could tell that it was just a family of hares. A twig snapped a few feet off, but that was clearly a deer, grazing in the cooling evening.
The tips of his ears twitched, and he tilted his head slightly, turning to catch the slightest of sounds. There, in the next clearing, he could hear someone moving. He closed his bark brown eyes, shutting off the sense with the ease of practice, and listened harder. A hunting party, it sounded, with five men. Two were armed with nothing but bows, but the others, when they moved, had the distinctive clang of metal.
He sighed and looked up, gauging the distance to the nearest tree branch. Just close enough, if he stood. Reynault stood and stretched, taking his time before he reached up and grasped the lowest branch, swinging himself into the tree in a move his father had drilled into him day after day for nearly a summer.
Steadily he climbed, making his way up into the tree, until he could easily see the clearing from his hiding spot. His coloring - tan with brown hair - gave him decent enough camouflage, but the clothes, a hunter's mottled brown, green, and black, completed the deal, allowing him to blend into the canopy with little issue.
He stayed completely still, barely even breathing, as he watched the hunting party. Like most elvish hunters, he relied mostly on his hearing. Sight was fallible, but sound was nearly impossible to duplicate, making it much more difficult to deceive someone with good hearing.
Still, it never hurt to use both senses, just in case. But even from here Reynault could tell that the hunters were a human party. Doubtless there wasn't a single decent sort in the lot.
He would have left, then, to warn the village, but he stilled, confusion flickering across his features. One of those in the party wasn't a man at all, but a woman. She was nearly the height of her comrades, kitted out in all the same gear, but she moved with a graceful fluidity that made the men look like clumsy bears.
Reynault was entranced. He could see from here that she didn't have the customary points on her ears, a hint that elvish blood ran in her veins. She was entirely human, but the way she moved... it was just like his mother, even his sister. He'd never seen a human woman move like that before.
He grinned. They weren't on the best of terms with the humans, true, but even so, there was no harm in giving them a little sport, just to see what the woman was capable of doing. It looked to him like they'd be able to take care of themselves. And besides, they'd come to hunt. Maybe they wouldn't mind a bit of a challenge.
A stag, just past its prime, offered itself as prey for the humans. It was old enough to no longer be useful to the group, though wise, and young enough to still be spry and clever. Besides, it would be fun.
Reynault agreed, and sent the old one on his way with a blessing, and then settled into a comfortable position to watch. Oh, this would be very interesting indeed.
The tips of his ears twitched, and he tilted his head slightly, turning to catch the slightest of sounds. There, in the next clearing, he could hear someone moving. He closed his bark brown eyes, shutting off the sense with the ease of practice, and listened harder. A hunting party, it sounded, with five men. Two were armed with nothing but bows, but the others, when they moved, had the distinctive clang of metal.
He sighed and looked up, gauging the distance to the nearest tree branch. Just close enough, if he stood. Reynault stood and stretched, taking his time before he reached up and grasped the lowest branch, swinging himself into the tree in a move his father had drilled into him day after day for nearly a summer.
Steadily he climbed, making his way up into the tree, until he could easily see the clearing from his hiding spot. His coloring - tan with brown hair - gave him decent enough camouflage, but the clothes, a hunter's mottled brown, green, and black, completed the deal, allowing him to blend into the canopy with little issue.
He stayed completely still, barely even breathing, as he watched the hunting party. Like most elvish hunters, he relied mostly on his hearing. Sight was fallible, but sound was nearly impossible to duplicate, making it much more difficult to deceive someone with good hearing.
Still, it never hurt to use both senses, just in case. But even from here Reynault could tell that the hunters were a human party. Doubtless there wasn't a single decent sort in the lot.
He would have left, then, to warn the village, but he stilled, confusion flickering across his features. One of those in the party wasn't a man at all, but a woman. She was nearly the height of her comrades, kitted out in all the same gear, but she moved with a graceful fluidity that made the men look like clumsy bears.
Reynault was entranced. He could see from here that she didn't have the customary points on her ears, a hint that elvish blood ran in her veins. She was entirely human, but the way she moved... it was just like his mother, even his sister. He'd never seen a human woman move like that before.
He grinned. They weren't on the best of terms with the humans, true, but even so, there was no harm in giving them a little sport, just to see what the woman was capable of doing. It looked to him like they'd be able to take care of themselves. And besides, they'd come to hunt. Maybe they wouldn't mind a bit of a challenge.
A stag, just past its prime, offered itself as prey for the humans. It was old enough to no longer be useful to the group, though wise, and young enough to still be spry and clever. Besides, it would be fun.
Reynault agreed, and sent the old one on his way with a blessing, and then settled into a comfortable position to watch. Oh, this would be very interesting indeed.
11 May 2010
Desire
"I want you," she whispered, her voice a caress that made the air around her shiver with excitement. "You have no idea how badly I want you, how much I've been wanting you." Her touch was smooth and delicate, her fingers soft, barely grazing the surface as she slid her hands down, feeling everything she could along the way.
Her tongue darted out of her mouth, moistening her lips, making them glisten. Brilliant blue eyes gazed out from her face, desire evident in the sparkle that flickered in their depths.
"You're strong... so very, very strong," she continued, her voice husky. "I've wanted... no, I've needed you for a very long time now. And now you're mine." Her spine tingled with excitement, causing her to shiver in such a way that it made her all the more attractive.
"I need you in me, now. I can't wait any longer."
Amanda turned to face the white-garbed men who had been standing behind her. "Now, doctors. Install it immediately."
The straightened, glancing toward each other for the briefest of moments, before nodding. "Yes, ma'am."
She turned back and smiled lovingly at the table before her, giving the item resting upon it one final caress before allowing the doctors to lead her away.
It wouldn't be long now.
Her tongue darted out of her mouth, moistening her lips, making them glisten. Brilliant blue eyes gazed out from her face, desire evident in the sparkle that flickered in their depths.
"You're strong... so very, very strong," she continued, her voice husky. "I've wanted... no, I've needed you for a very long time now. And now you're mine." Her spine tingled with excitement, causing her to shiver in such a way that it made her all the more attractive.
"I need you in me, now. I can't wait any longer."
Amanda turned to face the white-garbed men who had been standing behind her. "Now, doctors. Install it immediately."
The straightened, glancing toward each other for the briefest of moments, before nodding. "Yes, ma'am."
She turned back and smiled lovingly at the table before her, giving the item resting upon it one final caress before allowing the doctors to lead her away.
It wouldn't be long now.
Blood Bonds
Delia growled low in her throat, glaring at the person opposite her as they circled around each other, each wielding their weapons of choice. Her twin daggers flashed in the sunlight, the light gleaming along the serrated edges. They looked wicked, and her opponent knew from experience that they were every bit as painful as they appeared.
Then again, his lone dagger, nearly twice the length of hers, wasn't exactly gentle, with its tiny hooks and small holes in the blade. Roark grinned at her, his white teeth flashing brightly against his darkly tanned skin. "Now, now, Delia," he teased, feinting a stab at her lightly armored midsection.
She ignored the feint, knowing that he was toying with her. They were still warming up; the real fight wasn't even close to beginning for them. "Roark," she warned, his name ground out in the same growling tone.
The two fighters continued to circle, their leather armor warming in the sunlight, growing more supple as they moved. At some unseen, unheard signal, they rushed each other, the trio of daggers glinting, blinding onlookers as the two fought.
It was an old dance, and Delia especially reveled in it. This was passion, life, love, the very essence of being. She grinned at Roark, and he returned it with an answering smile.
Slashes were made and parried, stabs were turned aside. Delia's hands moved in a blur, attacking and blocking in a pattern that few in the stands could distinguish.
Roark, for his part, used his free hand to grapple, trying to prevent her dominant hand from making too many moves while he used his dominant to attack.
A single drop of blood flashed in the air, hanging as if frozen in time before it finally fell to the sands beneath their feet. The two leapt apart, checking themselves and each other, before they grinned, each holding up a bloodied weapon, a thin red line appearing on the right cheek of each fighter.
First blood had been drawn at precisely the same moment. It was a draw.
Roark gave a wild yell, grabbing his beloved and twirling her around. "Another tie, my dear!" he exclaimed, giving her a sound kiss.
When they released, Delia grinned at him. "Number twenty-seven, wasn't it?"
They both turned, clasping the others hand, and raised their fists in the air in victory.
"Is there any here who wishes to challenge us?"
The crowd went silent for a long moment, not a single soul moving for fear of being chosen to fight the undefeated duo.
"I will."
The silence shattered.
Then again, his lone dagger, nearly twice the length of hers, wasn't exactly gentle, with its tiny hooks and small holes in the blade. Roark grinned at her, his white teeth flashing brightly against his darkly tanned skin. "Now, now, Delia," he teased, feinting a stab at her lightly armored midsection.
She ignored the feint, knowing that he was toying with her. They were still warming up; the real fight wasn't even close to beginning for them. "Roark," she warned, his name ground out in the same growling tone.
The two fighters continued to circle, their leather armor warming in the sunlight, growing more supple as they moved. At some unseen, unheard signal, they rushed each other, the trio of daggers glinting, blinding onlookers as the two fought.
It was an old dance, and Delia especially reveled in it. This was passion, life, love, the very essence of being. She grinned at Roark, and he returned it with an answering smile.
Slashes were made and parried, stabs were turned aside. Delia's hands moved in a blur, attacking and blocking in a pattern that few in the stands could distinguish.
Roark, for his part, used his free hand to grapple, trying to prevent her dominant hand from making too many moves while he used his dominant to attack.
A single drop of blood flashed in the air, hanging as if frozen in time before it finally fell to the sands beneath their feet. The two leapt apart, checking themselves and each other, before they grinned, each holding up a bloodied weapon, a thin red line appearing on the right cheek of each fighter.
First blood had been drawn at precisely the same moment. It was a draw.
Roark gave a wild yell, grabbing his beloved and twirling her around. "Another tie, my dear!" he exclaimed, giving her a sound kiss.
When they released, Delia grinned at him. "Number twenty-seven, wasn't it?"
They both turned, clasping the others hand, and raised their fists in the air in victory.
"Is there any here who wishes to challenge us?"
The crowd went silent for a long moment, not a single soul moving for fear of being chosen to fight the undefeated duo.
"I will."
The silence shattered.
09 May 2010
Suspension of Belief
At first it had been just one or two, but the more often it happened, the larger the number seemed to grow. Pretty soon Collin was conjuring ten, fifteen, twenty at once, and no one had any idea where they were coming from or how they were getting there. Collin himself was clueless as to how he was even conjuring anything, having disbelieved in magic his entire life.
But when he'd started sneezing up handkerchiefs, coughing up little plastic balls, and shaking coins out of his ears, well, it was a little difficult to continue that disbelief.
His younger sister joked that he must have angered a stage magician. Collin didn't find that joke funny, because in all likelihood, he probably had. After all, he'd spent years writing articles and making films explaining the physics behind a stage magician's tricks. He had probably revealed so many trade secrets that he'd angered more than just one, or even a few.
The so-called magicians with larger arsenals didn't really care, because the simple tricks he'd been exploiting were mere parlor tricks for them, things to entertain and prepare the mind of the audience for the belief that anything was possible.
He would have been a fool to go after some of their tricks, but even then, some of the more interesting ones he did tend to at least explore, in segments he liked to think of as "how it could be done".
This, however... well, he had no idea how to stop it, and no idea who'd caused it in the first place. All Collin could wonder, at this point, was one thing. What would happen next?
But when he'd started sneezing up handkerchiefs, coughing up little plastic balls, and shaking coins out of his ears, well, it was a little difficult to continue that disbelief.
His younger sister joked that he must have angered a stage magician. Collin didn't find that joke funny, because in all likelihood, he probably had. After all, he'd spent years writing articles and making films explaining the physics behind a stage magician's tricks. He had probably revealed so many trade secrets that he'd angered more than just one, or even a few.
The so-called magicians with larger arsenals didn't really care, because the simple tricks he'd been exploiting were mere parlor tricks for them, things to entertain and prepare the mind of the audience for the belief that anything was possible.
He would have been a fool to go after some of their tricks, but even then, some of the more interesting ones he did tend to at least explore, in segments he liked to think of as "how it could be done".
This, however... well, he had no idea how to stop it, and no idea who'd caused it in the first place. All Collin could wonder, at this point, was one thing. What would happen next?
07 May 2010
Still Alive
Adrien stared into the fire as it roared merrily, though he didn't really see the flames. Instead, he saw memories, flickering dimly. Faces of people from the past, people who he knew he would never see again. And then, there she was. Her smile, the way her hair fell into her eyes whenever she gave him that look. He could hear her laughter, infectious and unique. It made him smile, until he remembered he would never again have that smile turned on him. She would never laugh at one of his jokes, never make him feel the warm giddiness of love.
He would never feel her in his arms again.
A log cracked, shooting up sparks that erased her features, disturbing him from his reverie. He stirred, grabbing a long, thin stick and poking at the fire. "Damn," he said, sighing. "Stuck in the middle of nowhere, no way to get home. She'll think I'm dead, once news of the crash reaches her. Everyone knows the escape pods don't work half the time."
He rose then, and paced around the fire, shaking his head. "It's just one trip, Adrien," he said, his voice high in a mockery of another.
"It's just one trip, Adrien," echoed a voice in his head. "They want you specifically, though. Asked that you be the one to deliver the package."
"But I've never been off-world before, Kyle. And Helena wants to marry soon. What if something happens?"
"Nothing will happen, buddy. You're booked on the safest transport ship in the system." Kyle clapped his shoulder, grinning broadly. "And just think of the money you'll be making with this one. That wedding you want won't even put a dent in your pocket!"
Well, not only did Adrien not have the money now, but he never would. Nor would he ever see Helena again. This entire trip had gone wrong. And for what? So he could deliver a package no larger than his thumb to someone so far from home that they'd had to use a fold ship to travel.
And now here he was, on an uncharted planet with a dead pair of pilots, a wrecked ship, and a barely functional escape pod.
Fantastic.
He would never feel her in his arms again.
A log cracked, shooting up sparks that erased her features, disturbing him from his reverie. He stirred, grabbing a long, thin stick and poking at the fire. "Damn," he said, sighing. "Stuck in the middle of nowhere, no way to get home. She'll think I'm dead, once news of the crash reaches her. Everyone knows the escape pods don't work half the time."
He rose then, and paced around the fire, shaking his head. "It's just one trip, Adrien," he said, his voice high in a mockery of another.
"It's just one trip, Adrien," echoed a voice in his head. "They want you specifically, though. Asked that you be the one to deliver the package."
"But I've never been off-world before, Kyle. And Helena wants to marry soon. What if something happens?"
"Nothing will happen, buddy. You're booked on the safest transport ship in the system." Kyle clapped his shoulder, grinning broadly. "And just think of the money you'll be making with this one. That wedding you want won't even put a dent in your pocket!"
Well, not only did Adrien not have the money now, but he never would. Nor would he ever see Helena again. This entire trip had gone wrong. And for what? So he could deliver a package no larger than his thumb to someone so far from home that they'd had to use a fold ship to travel.
And now here he was, on an uncharted planet with a dead pair of pilots, a wrecked ship, and a barely functional escape pod.
Fantastic.
06 May 2010
Chrysalis
Kailee fluttered her blue-black wings, settling onto a nearby tree branch and looking out over the expanse of forest, her deep green eyes surveying the workers below. A fine tunic made of spun silver was her only protection from the rough tree bark, the waist cinched in with a leafy green cord that looked as if it had been made out of a vine. Well... actually, it had been made from a vine, but that was beside the point. She drew her legs up, resting her chin on her knees, and stared sadly at the scene below, her delicately pointed ears twitching in time to the rhythmic noise of the cutters.
One of the men looked up at the sun filtering through the trees, and Kailee leaned back, moving out of his line of sight, though the glamour spell she was using would show him some animal of the woods - she never knew what the humans would see. A few of them had claimed to see faeries, which had made her and her kinfolk laugh. True, the little ones existed, but they were rarely seen by outsiders, preferring the company of their distant relations. Kailee herself was a fey, though the two were often considered one and the same. True, she was small in stature, but not so diminutive as the faeries. She stood at a very proud five feet even, with a wingspan just as grand.
She continued to watch the men work, peering at them with eyes wide with curiosity. She didn't understand why they did what they did. What was the point in the destruction of the woods? If they wanted places to live, they could build cities in the trees, as her own people had done.
In fact, they were only a few miles away from her home city, Astorlienne. Magic protected it, turning unwanted travelers away. Often they were lost in the woods for hours, sometimes even days on end, and always she heard the humans say the same thing - it must be the faeries at work. She stifled a giggle at the thought that faeries could work magic of that magnitude. The little ones could work minor magics, helping humans to skirt around their little circles and tiny castles, but those didn't always work. Kailee had helped to rebuild fifteen castles in the past year alone.
Her sigh was more audible than it should have been. The same human who'd looked up before did so again, staring directly at her. She shied back, standing and preparing to take flight, when something caught her eye. Instead of dismissing her as a local animal, he was still looking, his expression that of confusion, as if he weren't quite sure of what he was seeing.
She cursed to herself, realizing that he'd seen her for what she was, and double-checked her spell. The glamour was still working, so why could he see her?
He moved away from the group, saying something to the others that caused them to laugh and wave him off. Kailee looked around her, frantic. There was no place to hide, and she'd been seen. Should she run and hope he dismissed it later? Or... she swallowed at her next thought. It had been a very long time since a human had seen one of the fey for what they really were. She could always take him with her. There had to be an explanation.
Kailee made a split second decision, flashing the approaching human a mischievious smile, and then took off, her wings beating a steady pace. He could easily follow; she wasn't flying that fast. This would give her a chance to get away, should she change her mind.
To be perfectly honest, though, she didn't think she would.
One of the men looked up at the sun filtering through the trees, and Kailee leaned back, moving out of his line of sight, though the glamour spell she was using would show him some animal of the woods - she never knew what the humans would see. A few of them had claimed to see faeries, which had made her and her kinfolk laugh. True, the little ones existed, but they were rarely seen by outsiders, preferring the company of their distant relations. Kailee herself was a fey, though the two were often considered one and the same. True, she was small in stature, but not so diminutive as the faeries. She stood at a very proud five feet even, with a wingspan just as grand.
She continued to watch the men work, peering at them with eyes wide with curiosity. She didn't understand why they did what they did. What was the point in the destruction of the woods? If they wanted places to live, they could build cities in the trees, as her own people had done.
In fact, they were only a few miles away from her home city, Astorlienne. Magic protected it, turning unwanted travelers away. Often they were lost in the woods for hours, sometimes even days on end, and always she heard the humans say the same thing - it must be the faeries at work. She stifled a giggle at the thought that faeries could work magic of that magnitude. The little ones could work minor magics, helping humans to skirt around their little circles and tiny castles, but those didn't always work. Kailee had helped to rebuild fifteen castles in the past year alone.
Her sigh was more audible than it should have been. The same human who'd looked up before did so again, staring directly at her. She shied back, standing and preparing to take flight, when something caught her eye. Instead of dismissing her as a local animal, he was still looking, his expression that of confusion, as if he weren't quite sure of what he was seeing.
She cursed to herself, realizing that he'd seen her for what she was, and double-checked her spell. The glamour was still working, so why could he see her?
He moved away from the group, saying something to the others that caused them to laugh and wave him off. Kailee looked around her, frantic. There was no place to hide, and she'd been seen. Should she run and hope he dismissed it later? Or... she swallowed at her next thought. It had been a very long time since a human had seen one of the fey for what they really were. She could always take him with her. There had to be an explanation.
Kailee made a split second decision, flashing the approaching human a mischievious smile, and then took off, her wings beating a steady pace. He could easily follow; she wasn't flying that fast. This would give her a chance to get away, should she change her mind.
To be perfectly honest, though, she didn't think she would.
05 May 2010
Bladesinger
Lightning flashed across the sky, a bright, white-hot line of electricity that gave Andrew a glimpse of the city that sprawled out before him. The crack and boom that followed the static discharge made his entire body rumble, and he rubbed at his jaw, grimacing because the closeness of the thunder had caused his teeth to ache. Behind him, in a long line that snaked around the mountain path, followed hundreds of people, fleeing into the city, leaving behind homes that had been ruined by the storms that had been raging in the land.
Storms not just like the one going on now, but of war. The country was in turmoil, the leadership bickering amongst each other, as always happened. Andy grunted at the thought. Governments were fine and all, to his mindset, but politics, well... politics could be done without.
He knew there wouldn't be much for them in the city. There were few shelters, most already overrun by refugees from the outlying farms. Still, he could at least give them the chance to rest before pressing on, deeper into the country, towards the capital. That was where his home was... or had been, as it were. No longer.
"Sir!" called one of the travelers, turning his attention away from the sprawling city. "Sir, there's a rider coming up the lines. Looks to be a messenger from his lordship!"
Andrew waved a hand in acknowledgement and scanned the horizon, spotting the horse-borne messenger within seconds. It didn't take the lad long to reach him where he stood, waiting.
"My lord Winston Wildblade sends his regards to you, Andrew Shadow, and requests you attend to him as soon as is most convenient for you." Andrew rose one dark eyebrow, clearly waiting for the remainder of the message. The rider flushed and looked down at the back of his horse's head. "Ah... he also wishes to say that your train is welcome to stay in the city's outer areas, but that they must move on the dawn after the storm has quit the area."
The only response given to the rider was a low hmph. They stood in silence for several minutes before the messenger cleared his throat. "Ah, Master Shadow, I am required to take a response back to Lord Wildblade."
Andy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine," he growled. "Tell his lordship I will attend to him as soon as my people are settled, and not one second sooner. Now go and get out of our path." In an all too obvious dismissal, he turned his back on the rider, facing those closest to him in the lines. "Our good Lord Wildblade has offered us a place to rest until the storm has passed! Relay the news and prepare to move out in fifteen minutes!" He turned to watch the messenger's descent back to the city. "And you, my dear uncle... I will be coming for you soon." Andrew smiled, then, and it seemed to those looking as if even the air shivered at the malice hidden in that smile.
Storms not just like the one going on now, but of war. The country was in turmoil, the leadership bickering amongst each other, as always happened. Andy grunted at the thought. Governments were fine and all, to his mindset, but politics, well... politics could be done without.
He knew there wouldn't be much for them in the city. There were few shelters, most already overrun by refugees from the outlying farms. Still, he could at least give them the chance to rest before pressing on, deeper into the country, towards the capital. That was where his home was... or had been, as it were. No longer.
"Sir!" called one of the travelers, turning his attention away from the sprawling city. "Sir, there's a rider coming up the lines. Looks to be a messenger from his lordship!"
Andrew waved a hand in acknowledgement and scanned the horizon, spotting the horse-borne messenger within seconds. It didn't take the lad long to reach him where he stood, waiting.
"My lord Winston Wildblade sends his regards to you, Andrew Shadow, and requests you attend to him as soon as is most convenient for you." Andrew rose one dark eyebrow, clearly waiting for the remainder of the message. The rider flushed and looked down at the back of his horse's head. "Ah... he also wishes to say that your train is welcome to stay in the city's outer areas, but that they must move on the dawn after the storm has quit the area."
The only response given to the rider was a low hmph. They stood in silence for several minutes before the messenger cleared his throat. "Ah, Master Shadow, I am required to take a response back to Lord Wildblade."
Andy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine," he growled. "Tell his lordship I will attend to him as soon as my people are settled, and not one second sooner. Now go and get out of our path." In an all too obvious dismissal, he turned his back on the rider, facing those closest to him in the lines. "Our good Lord Wildblade has offered us a place to rest until the storm has passed! Relay the news and prepare to move out in fifteen minutes!" He turned to watch the messenger's descent back to the city. "And you, my dear uncle... I will be coming for you soon." Andrew smiled, then, and it seemed to those looking as if even the air shivered at the malice hidden in that smile.
04 May 2010
Tomorrow's Eternity (Magic)
Deanna watched the king and her friend Katalina from across the room, feigning sleep so that they wouldn't notice her. It was so obvious that they had feelings for each other, but they were both idiots. Lina was hot-headed, often going off at the drop of a hat over something minor - though she was getting better at controlling her temper, and Kael, well... Deanna was convinced that he just liked to provoke the younger girl.
They were going at it right now, in fact, although Lina certainly had a right to her anger this time. His Majesty, King Mikael, had teased her just a little too far. The red-headed girl had been good about it through the dinner, smiling tightly and pretending like everything was okay, but as soon as the guests - especially the remainder of the royal family - had left the dining hall, she had turned her piercing green gaze to Kael, and all hell had broken loose.
Deanna, all the way across the room, at the far end of the table where she'd retired during dessert to chat with their younger friends, could see Kael's gulp when he knew he'd crossed the line. They'd all spent a lot of time together since Katalina had arrived from across the veil that bordered the Realms with her Terra, and he'd learned a lot about the Russian girl. Enough to know better than to scoff at the delicately embroidered flowers on the cuffs of her sleeves.
Of course, Lina shouldn't have embroidered the flowers in the first place, since she'd used some of her magic in the embroidery. The thread had once been alive, flax or cotton, she couldn't recall which, and it had reacted most unusually. That is to say, of course, that the flowers had grown, bloomed, died, and repeated the cycle. It was an interesting fashion statement, but one that would not be wise to show off in front of the royal family, who were loyalists to the Legends, the ruling body that governed the life mages.
Deanna and Katalina were the enemies of Legends. Mortalisars, life mages who shunned the strict rules of the Legends, or, in Lina's case, who were not born to the realms. While she had native blood, she had spent her life until now on the Terran side, where it had been influenced by the life force of her birth realm.
Katalina was, to the minds of the Legends, an abomination, a curse, a plague upon the land. One who, if found, must be removed at all costs.
And that, of course, is what Kael had so stupidly said to her as soon as the royal family was gone. As if the girl needed any more reminders that her presence was a danger to them all, especially to her own life.
Even worse that she'd had a damned prophecy foisted on her by Deanna's grandfather.
They were going at it right now, in fact, although Lina certainly had a right to her anger this time. His Majesty, King Mikael, had teased her just a little too far. The red-headed girl had been good about it through the dinner, smiling tightly and pretending like everything was okay, but as soon as the guests - especially the remainder of the royal family - had left the dining hall, she had turned her piercing green gaze to Kael, and all hell had broken loose.
Deanna, all the way across the room, at the far end of the table where she'd retired during dessert to chat with their younger friends, could see Kael's gulp when he knew he'd crossed the line. They'd all spent a lot of time together since Katalina had arrived from across the veil that bordered the Realms with her Terra, and he'd learned a lot about the Russian girl. Enough to know better than to scoff at the delicately embroidered flowers on the cuffs of her sleeves.
Of course, Lina shouldn't have embroidered the flowers in the first place, since she'd used some of her magic in the embroidery. The thread had once been alive, flax or cotton, she couldn't recall which, and it had reacted most unusually. That is to say, of course, that the flowers had grown, bloomed, died, and repeated the cycle. It was an interesting fashion statement, but one that would not be wise to show off in front of the royal family, who were loyalists to the Legends, the ruling body that governed the life mages.
Deanna and Katalina were the enemies of Legends. Mortalisars, life mages who shunned the strict rules of the Legends, or, in Lina's case, who were not born to the realms. While she had native blood, she had spent her life until now on the Terran side, where it had been influenced by the life force of her birth realm.
Katalina was, to the minds of the Legends, an abomination, a curse, a plague upon the land. One who, if found, must be removed at all costs.
And that, of course, is what Kael had so stupidly said to her as soon as the royal family was gone. As if the girl needed any more reminders that her presence was a danger to them all, especially to her own life.
Even worse that she'd had a damned prophecy foisted on her by Deanna's grandfather.
When Gods Grant Wishes
"Look, Neil, if you love the girl, just tell her you love her. Treat her like she means somethin' to ya. You gotta listen to 'em, you know? If she says somethin' that sounds like maybe she wants you to do something...or not do it... then you oughtta listen and do it or whatever. That's how I manage to keep my Lanie happy." Rob leaned back in the armchair and twisted open a bottle of beer, taking a long swallow as he looked at his friend. "Lanie, she says to me, 'Rob, honey, we women understand you about as much as you understand us. We gotta work together to make this work.' Best bit of advice I ever had from a girl. Last ones have always been all about them, not really about us."
"Hell, man, I know what you're saying, but I still just don't know. I love her, but she drives me absolutely mad! She can't relax and just have fun."
"I dunno, Neil. You two sure were having fun there at the beginning. Maybe you just didn't really listen to each other, somewhere along the line. Someone's gotta be the bigger person and try to make things right. Maybe it'll be her. Maybe you. Hell, you're both dancing around each other, 'stead of with. Think, man. She ever say anythin' to ya that might clue you in as to why she's gotten so upset lately?"
"I'm telling you, Rob, I don't know. There's so much I love about her, but sometimes the rest just makes me so annoyed." Neil heaved an exasperated sigh and surged to his feet, pacing around his friend's living room.
"Gotta take the good with the bad or it isn't really love, man." Rob reached out and smacked Neil's arm, getting his attention. "You've both been idiots. How 'bout you both work together, help each other out, huh?"
"How do you help out a girl who's out in the great big black beyond, when you're stuck with both feet firmly planted in the ground?" Neil looked up, as if he could see through the thick roof of the house, miles into the sky where his beloved Sascha presently lived. "I just want to hold her, Rob."
"Sounds to me like you need to get yourself some wings and learn to fly, then."
"Don't be stupid. Shit like that only happens in fairy tales and movies. There's no way I could get up into the black, unless..." He trailed off, lips pursed in thought.
"Unless?"
"You remember that story, um... the one about the wings with wax, what melted 'cause they got too close to the sun?"
"Yeah, Icarus and Daedalus, I think. Greek myths. C'mon, man, you know those Grecian gods and such weren't actually real."
"True. Everyone knows that. But, I'm thinking... someone up there might be willing to help, if I ask. You think she would?"
Rob shivered, a mixture of thrill and fear. "Sascha is one of her Daughters. It's possible. But you know Sascha fell out of favor, taking to an Earthly like she did. You'd have to prove an awful lot to her mother. Especially since you're the one that drew her Daughter away."
"I gotta try, though, right? What could go wrong?" Neil gave his friend a wry smile, both clearly thinking the same thing: I hope Bast doesn't eat me for this.
"Hell, man, I know what you're saying, but I still just don't know. I love her, but she drives me absolutely mad! She can't relax and just have fun."
"I dunno, Neil. You two sure were having fun there at the beginning. Maybe you just didn't really listen to each other, somewhere along the line. Someone's gotta be the bigger person and try to make things right. Maybe it'll be her. Maybe you. Hell, you're both dancing around each other, 'stead of with. Think, man. She ever say anythin' to ya that might clue you in as to why she's gotten so upset lately?"
"I'm telling you, Rob, I don't know. There's so much I love about her, but sometimes the rest just makes me so annoyed." Neil heaved an exasperated sigh and surged to his feet, pacing around his friend's living room.
"Gotta take the good with the bad or it isn't really love, man." Rob reached out and smacked Neil's arm, getting his attention. "You've both been idiots. How 'bout you both work together, help each other out, huh?"
"How do you help out a girl who's out in the great big black beyond, when you're stuck with both feet firmly planted in the ground?" Neil looked up, as if he could see through the thick roof of the house, miles into the sky where his beloved Sascha presently lived. "I just want to hold her, Rob."
"Sounds to me like you need to get yourself some wings and learn to fly, then."
"Don't be stupid. Shit like that only happens in fairy tales and movies. There's no way I could get up into the black, unless..." He trailed off, lips pursed in thought.
"Unless?"
"You remember that story, um... the one about the wings with wax, what melted 'cause they got too close to the sun?"
"Yeah, Icarus and Daedalus, I think. Greek myths. C'mon, man, you know those Grecian gods and such weren't actually real."
"True. Everyone knows that. But, I'm thinking... someone up there might be willing to help, if I ask. You think she would?"
Rob shivered, a mixture of thrill and fear. "Sascha is one of her Daughters. It's possible. But you know Sascha fell out of favor, taking to an Earthly like she did. You'd have to prove an awful lot to her mother. Especially since you're the one that drew her Daughter away."
"I gotta try, though, right? What could go wrong?" Neil gave his friend a wry smile, both clearly thinking the same thing: I hope Bast doesn't eat me for this.
03 May 2010
What is Love?
"Why am I watching this?" she asked, possibly for the twentieth time in less than an hour. The television flickered, lighting the room, and she shook her head, hand grasping the remote as if she would change the channel.
Across the room, her friend turned in her chair, looking away from the computer screen for a moment and shrugging. "I dunno. Why?"
A sigh came from the couch, followed by a thump as the remote hit the cushions, the channel still on the game that Kelly was watching. She didn't know much about it; basketball wasn't really her thing, though she'd played some in high school. Soccer was what she was good at; she'd played midfield throughout most of her youth. A good, solid position, a comfortable midpoint where she could move easily, place herself where she was most needed. It had rules she understood.
But basketball... hell, sure she'd played some, but she didn't really know the rules, having played one-on-one or sometimes paired games. It wasn't that she disliked the game, really. In fact, she didn't mind it at all. Much better than football, and easier to follow than something like tennis, which was incredibly boring at times.
It was just that people always assumed she was stupid when it came to sports, and would talk to her with that in mind, or just not bother to try and clue her in at all. And there was only so much a person could understand from reading the rules and explanations of plays. Sometimes it was nice to have someone sit with her and tell her what a certain action meant. Why was that a foul, how come those people are standing around, and what the hell is with the shuffling two-step that made the guys look like they were dancing with each other?
She snorted and brushed a bit of hair out of her eyes. "I must really love this fool, to be doing something as crazy as this. That, or I've been abducted by aliens... or both."
"You're crazy either way," her friend reminded her, tapping away on her keyboard, not even bothering to look behind her.
"True enough." Kelly sighed again and turned the volume up, going back to the game, trying her best to figure it out without help.
Gods help me, she thought. I really do love him, idiot though he may be.
Across the room, her friend turned in her chair, looking away from the computer screen for a moment and shrugging. "I dunno. Why?"
A sigh came from the couch, followed by a thump as the remote hit the cushions, the channel still on the game that Kelly was watching. She didn't know much about it; basketball wasn't really her thing, though she'd played some in high school. Soccer was what she was good at; she'd played midfield throughout most of her youth. A good, solid position, a comfortable midpoint where she could move easily, place herself where she was most needed. It had rules she understood.
But basketball... hell, sure she'd played some, but she didn't really know the rules, having played one-on-one or sometimes paired games. It wasn't that she disliked the game, really. In fact, she didn't mind it at all. Much better than football, and easier to follow than something like tennis, which was incredibly boring at times.
It was just that people always assumed she was stupid when it came to sports, and would talk to her with that in mind, or just not bother to try and clue her in at all. And there was only so much a person could understand from reading the rules and explanations of plays. Sometimes it was nice to have someone sit with her and tell her what a certain action meant. Why was that a foul, how come those people are standing around, and what the hell is with the shuffling two-step that made the guys look like they were dancing with each other?
She snorted and brushed a bit of hair out of her eyes. "I must really love this fool, to be doing something as crazy as this. That, or I've been abducted by aliens... or both."
"You're crazy either way," her friend reminded her, tapping away on her keyboard, not even bothering to look behind her.
"True enough." Kelly sighed again and turned the volume up, going back to the game, trying her best to figure it out without help.
Gods help me, she thought. I really do love him, idiot though he may be.
02 May 2010
City Trails
Thump, thump, thump, thump...
Despina's feet hit the pavement in a steady beat, her pace eating the ground, covering the distance in a short amount of time. Her breath came in ragged gasps, proof of how long and hard she'd been running. The sun was setting, creating a beautiful backdrop to the city, but she didn't see it at all. She was far too worried about the ground ahead of her.
She heard a growl from behind her and increased her pace, skirting dumpsters, jumping over piles of trash, and not daring to look back for fear of tripping. What that creature was doing in the middle of downtown Chicago was beyond her ability to explain; all she cared about was getting away from it, somewhere safe. And 'safe' was a relative term in this part of town.
The growl sounded closer, but she couldn't be sure if it was real or her own imagination, using her fear to play tricks on her. Either way, if she didn't get to safety soon, it wouldn't much matter. That thing would be on her any minute now.
A light shone up ahead, then sharpened into the headlights of a car. She screamed, waving her hands, and moved into the road. "STOP! STOP, PLEASE!"
The car screeched to a halt, the smell of burned rubber rising in the warm summer air. "Are you fucking crazy?" yelled the drive, a man, as he leaned out his open window.
"Please, help! There's something out there!" she said, pointing behind her.
"What are you talking about? There's nothing there! Are you drunk, lad- oh, FUCK!" He slid back into his seat and gestured wildly at the passenger side door. Despina wasted no time in yanking it open, and the driver tore off down the street before she was even fully seated and had the door closed.
"Thanks for that," she said, gasping for breath. "It's been chasing me for about fifteen blocks."
"Fifteen!" He looked as if he would say something else, then shook his head. "Back alleys, huh?"
"Yeah. I thought I'd lost it for a while there. No such luck, I guess. Really, thanks for the lift."
"Any idea what the hell a panther is doing loose in Chicago?"
"None. Zoo escapee, maybe?"
He shrugged. "Possibly. Looked a bit big for a zoo panther, though. My name's Jack. You?"
"Despina. Pleasure to meet you." They rode in comfortable silence for a few more moments, before they heard a thump on the roof of the car. "This day... just keeps getting better and better," she said, turning to look at Jack. "Sorry I got you into this mess."
He shot her a small, tight smile. "It's okay. Just hang on."
Despina's feet hit the pavement in a steady beat, her pace eating the ground, covering the distance in a short amount of time. Her breath came in ragged gasps, proof of how long and hard she'd been running. The sun was setting, creating a beautiful backdrop to the city, but she didn't see it at all. She was far too worried about the ground ahead of her.
She heard a growl from behind her and increased her pace, skirting dumpsters, jumping over piles of trash, and not daring to look back for fear of tripping. What that creature was doing in the middle of downtown Chicago was beyond her ability to explain; all she cared about was getting away from it, somewhere safe. And 'safe' was a relative term in this part of town.
The growl sounded closer, but she couldn't be sure if it was real or her own imagination, using her fear to play tricks on her. Either way, if she didn't get to safety soon, it wouldn't much matter. That thing would be on her any minute now.
A light shone up ahead, then sharpened into the headlights of a car. She screamed, waving her hands, and moved into the road. "STOP! STOP, PLEASE!"
The car screeched to a halt, the smell of burned rubber rising in the warm summer air. "Are you fucking crazy?" yelled the drive, a man, as he leaned out his open window.
"Please, help! There's something out there!" she said, pointing behind her.
"What are you talking about? There's nothing there! Are you drunk, lad- oh, FUCK!" He slid back into his seat and gestured wildly at the passenger side door. Despina wasted no time in yanking it open, and the driver tore off down the street before she was even fully seated and had the door closed.
"Thanks for that," she said, gasping for breath. "It's been chasing me for about fifteen blocks."
"Fifteen!" He looked as if he would say something else, then shook his head. "Back alleys, huh?"
"Yeah. I thought I'd lost it for a while there. No such luck, I guess. Really, thanks for the lift."
"Any idea what the hell a panther is doing loose in Chicago?"
"None. Zoo escapee, maybe?"
He shrugged. "Possibly. Looked a bit big for a zoo panther, though. My name's Jack. You?"
"Despina. Pleasure to meet you." They rode in comfortable silence for a few more moments, before they heard a thump on the roof of the car. "This day... just keeps getting better and better," she said, turning to look at Jack. "Sorry I got you into this mess."
He shot her a small, tight smile. "It's okay. Just hang on."
Tomorrow's Eternity (Prophecy)
A woman born of two worlds
She will come from across the mist
Flowers shall adorn her
And fire burn for her
A man born to wealth
He will wait in stone
Fire consumes him
And flowers bloom for him
They two shall be brought together
And in their joining
Change will be wrought upon the world
She will come from across the mist
Flowers shall adorn her
And fire burn for her
A man born to wealth
He will wait in stone
Fire consumes him
And flowers bloom for him
They two shall be brought together
And in their joining
Change will be wrought upon the world
01 May 2010
Silver Light
Reel Anonymous. At first she'd thought it was a joke. A cute play on words that could be brushed off as idle silliness, a prank meant to be played on the unsuspecting and gullible. What she didn't know was that the group actually existed. It wasn't until she was approached by someone, an elderly man who looked as if he'd stepped right off the silver screen itself, that she began to really believe.
He'd carried a cane with him, straight and black, capped with a silver sphere that gleamed in the soft light of her home. His skin was paper-thin, wrinkled and heavily veined, though she'd surprised at how smooth it felt when he'd proferred his hand and she'd taken it in her own.
The man had introduced himself as Charles Berringer, but the twinkle in his eye when he'd given it led her to believe there was a story behind that name, and that perhaps it wasn't the name his parents had given him. She knew that story fairly well. Having been born with a name she'd not really liked - Jessica Hare - and the jokes that had come with it, she'd eventually changed her name to Jessica Fielding, after one of her favorite characters from a little-known movie.
She and Charles had sat down to talk, and she thought back on that conversation, her lips pressing together in a thoughtful line.
"I am here," he said, "to discuss with you a matter of importance, though not of great urgency." He waited for her subtle gesture to continue. "Your grandmother and I were good friends, Miss Fielding, and she entrusted me with the task of introducing you to our society when the time had come. I know she wanted to be present..."
"The accident was tragic, but I loved my grandmother very much," interrupted Jessica, a small smile showing she meant no offense. "But forgive me, to what society are you referring?"
"Why, Reel Anonymous," he said, startled. "Did she tell you nothing of it?"
"Children's stories, certainly. I was young and gullible. Surely you don't think I would believe such things now?"
"I assure you, Miss Fielding, the society exists. And it very much needs your assistance."
"My assistance? Whatever could I do to help such a prestigious group? From what I recall of my grandmother's stories, RA is for the elites of the business, not for someone of such low class as myself." Jessica shook her head, her hand waving emphasis on the negative.
"Miss Fielding... I assure you, all of your grandmother's stories were accurate. We need your help... and your magic. Please, madam, the Silvers are once again on the move. Surely you were taught how to deal with them?"
"Mister Berringer, I'm not sure if I even believe you. Please, if you will excuse me, I have work to do." She stood abruptly and moved to the door, opening it and gesturing him out, waiting politely as he gathered himself.
Before he left her home, he paused, giving her a long, searching look. "You cannot escape fate, my dear girl. The blood of Silvers runs in your veins. There is nothing you can do to change that. Good day."
Jessica shivered, remembering that conversation, and his parting line. What had her grandmother gotten her into?
He'd carried a cane with him, straight and black, capped with a silver sphere that gleamed in the soft light of her home. His skin was paper-thin, wrinkled and heavily veined, though she'd surprised at how smooth it felt when he'd proferred his hand and she'd taken it in her own.
The man had introduced himself as Charles Berringer, but the twinkle in his eye when he'd given it led her to believe there was a story behind that name, and that perhaps it wasn't the name his parents had given him. She knew that story fairly well. Having been born with a name she'd not really liked - Jessica Hare - and the jokes that had come with it, she'd eventually changed her name to Jessica Fielding, after one of her favorite characters from a little-known movie.
She and Charles had sat down to talk, and she thought back on that conversation, her lips pressing together in a thoughtful line.
"I am here," he said, "to discuss with you a matter of importance, though not of great urgency." He waited for her subtle gesture to continue. "Your grandmother and I were good friends, Miss Fielding, and she entrusted me with the task of introducing you to our society when the time had come. I know she wanted to be present..."
"The accident was tragic, but I loved my grandmother very much," interrupted Jessica, a small smile showing she meant no offense. "But forgive me, to what society are you referring?"
"Why, Reel Anonymous," he said, startled. "Did she tell you nothing of it?"
"Children's stories, certainly. I was young and gullible. Surely you don't think I would believe such things now?"
"I assure you, Miss Fielding, the society exists. And it very much needs your assistance."
"My assistance? Whatever could I do to help such a prestigious group? From what I recall of my grandmother's stories, RA is for the elites of the business, not for someone of such low class as myself." Jessica shook her head, her hand waving emphasis on the negative.
"Miss Fielding... I assure you, all of your grandmother's stories were accurate. We need your help... and your magic. Please, madam, the Silvers are once again on the move. Surely you were taught how to deal with them?"
"Mister Berringer, I'm not sure if I even believe you. Please, if you will excuse me, I have work to do." She stood abruptly and moved to the door, opening it and gesturing him out, waiting politely as he gathered himself.
Before he left her home, he paused, giving her a long, searching look. "You cannot escape fate, my dear girl. The blood of Silvers runs in your veins. There is nothing you can do to change that. Good day."
Jessica shivered, remembering that conversation, and his parting line. What had her grandmother gotten her into?
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