A Scorpio Story Stash

[trudee]

This was originally posted in the Random Ramblings thread.

The sounds of her laughter were cut off she she was solidly pinned to the wall and kissed deeply. Her moans were joined by his as their tongues played chase and tag through their mouths before his took charge. She molded herself against him as the sounds of their breathing grew stronger. The kissing grew more raw as he pressed her hard against the wall, pushing his hips against hers as hard as he could........

Hi M. I saw that you'd worked quite a bit on your thread here and read most of your recent posts. All beautiful, and thank you for sharing. But the one quoted left me both hot and cold, and completely riveted. It's brilliant. A really sumptuous piece of writing.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's February 2011 Writing challenge.

The hour before dawn was usually the calmest and most serene time of day for Jack. Well worn boots walked along the even more well worn planks of the verandah as he went to sit down and watch the sunrise. Today, he had his coffee and the last remains of his breakfast, some fried egg on a piece of thick toast, as he sat down to have his one and only little daily ritual.

'The outback is a strange place,' Jack thought. 'Fucking beautiful country that will smack you down for no reason at all.' He took a sip of his coffee, letting his mind wander a little as the sky lit up with oranges and reds from the lurking sun.

Not two years earlier, one of the toughest droughts the region had been through had finally broken. Well, broke enough. But not before the cattle station saw its herds culled to about a third of what they were. Even those that made the grade and weren't culled looked like fur covered bones for the most part. But the vet was sure that all those that remained would be able to put on enough condition to at least breed well if not be good enough to sell.

Things had started to look up after that. The rains were enough to get some plant life growing, and the cattle were starting to look more like cattle again. In some ways, the work was harder, since the few animals were still scattered over the same wide area, they weren't as easy to spot from the chopper. Instead of hundreds of head in a group, there were less than a hundred, and more often less than fifty.

He took a bite of his breakfast. The gold of the yolk reminded him of the soon to be rising sun. The sky was ablaze with the false dawn. Slight wisps of clouds gave the otherwise clear sky some beauty. The clouds gave the light a surface to exalt their myriad of colours that hid within the ordinary white. It would be a few more minutes, and the light coming to him would be directly from the sun itself, in all of its glory and majesty.

He could hear the other jackaroos and jillaroos moving about. Jokes were traded between them, including a couple of rather rude ones concerning Janice. She took it in her stride, punching Alan in the arm on the way past.

“Fuck! What was that for?”

“For being a prick, Alan.”

“Shut up, ya wuss.”

“Fuck you, Steve.”

The rest of them laughed from in the mess as they cleaned up from breakfast.

Not only did they have work on their own station to do, but the neighbour's as well. They had got a call from the Pattersons that they had some feed they needed moved, but needed a few more hands to help out. After the assistance they got from the Pattersons earlier in the week, there was no hesitations in helping out as well. Most of the them would be helping the Pattersons while the rest pulled their normal duties on the Bryant station.

The sun finally breached the horizon as Jake finished the last of his breakfast. The light illuminated the land around the main buildings of the Bryant Cattle Station. As far as the eye could see was nothing but water. The gentle ripples of the flood just touched the underneath of the boards that Jake was sitting on. The darkness had allowed him ignore the soft tell tale sounds of the lapping water as he had sat, along with the subtle aroma of water and rotting plant matter.

Jack stood up, leaving the cup and plate were they were, taking one final stretch before heading off. He followed his fellow workmates down the stairs into the hip deep water, heading out for the boats they would need to get the feed to the surviving stranded cattle.

He was hauled over the front of the blunt nosed boat. He took off his boots, letting the water drain out. He looked out over the water as the boat moved out.

“A couples of weeks of this, then we have knee deep mud, sandflies and mosquitoes, and stuck cattle. But once that clears, shit, this place will be green as.”

“Yep,” Janice said from the back of the boat. “Then it'll be a plague of mice, locusts or roos until the drought comes back again.”

“But I'll say this much,” Jack replied, “it's never boring.”

“A-fucking-men,” chorused everyone else with a laugh.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's April 2011, Part Two Writing challenge.

Awakening
Adrian & Adrianna Tale #1​

Adrian stood patiently, leaning against the wall of the apartment building, reading a newspaper. He had been watching her for a month now. He could feel that she was close, her epiphany was at hand. He had sought her out when he felt the echoes of her awakening approaching. The last divination he cast told him that today was the day.


Adrianna was dragged from her sleep by the jangling racket of her alarm clock. Her hand slammed down on the clock, sending it to the floor as she silenced the irritating noise. Her hand returned to her face, rubbing it for a few moments as the groan of wakefulness replaced the earlier sound.

"Aawwww... fuck!" Once more the hand scrambled about, finding her cell phone and confirming her worst fear. "It's Saturday! Why didn't I remember to turn that fucking alarm off?!?"

The covers exploded off her with a flurry of violently thrashing limbs. Once free of the confines of the fabric, her limbs dropped to the bed and she lay still, staring at the ceiling, blaming it for her predicament. The sun faded red, which was more like a pink to her eye, failed to be moved by her glare. Its apathetic response summed up how she felt the world thought of her.

A groan that morphed into a soft scream of frustration marked her exit from the bed. She stormed out of her bedroom into the bathroom. The dull white walls matched the stained porcelain of the sink, bath and toilet. She paused before the mirror, gazing at the view that she presented to the world.

Her long black hair hung lifelessly about her face. It was the black that sucked in the light, almost projecting a shadow about her head. She was slightly grateful for that, as her skin seemed to lean towards a rather unhealthy shade of gray, which in turn made her washed out blue eyes look gray as well. She pushed a few strands of hair back, hooking them over an ear while she sorted out what she was going to do, now that the planned sleeping was no longer an option.

"Yeah," she sighed to her reflection, "if I chose some other option, I would sleep through it and things would be even worse."

Adrianna found herself falling into her normal weekday routine. She went to the toilet, letting her body rid itself of the overnight buildup; she showered and washed her hair. Neither the shower gel nor the shampoo smelled as nice as the packaging suggested they would, and Adrianna's hair failed to gain any of the life and bounce the hair care products extolled. She was out of the shower, a fluffy towel that lost its fluffiness over a century before going by the feel was wrapped around her body. She grabbed the comb and ran it through her hair. The stainless steel teeth were the only things that seemed to be able to withstand the highly resistant knots that seemed to form as her hair dried. Of course, each tug brought a painful wince, gritted teeth and occasion tear.

She sat down on a stool in the bathroom, slamming the comb into her lap as she stared at the join of the wall and ceiling. She took several deep breaths, all of which loosened the towel wrapped about her. She felt her eyes watering, her hands quickly moving to rid the evidence of their presence. All about her was listless. She felt that everything about her was washed out and gray. The air felt thick with a stifling smog that the wind never seemed to clear. Her work was sucking the life from her soul, the music did nothing to lift her spirits and anything she ate was bland at best, tasteless at worst.

Deep within a boiling rage erupted, enveloping her in a moment. She launched herself upright, the comb getting caught in the towel and the pointed end of the handle scratching her belly. She snatched it from its perch, pulling the towel from her as well. A full bodied scream of anguish echoed through the tiny room as she fought to free the comb from the encumbrance of the towel. The towel sailed into the empty bathtub before she threw the comb with all her rage at her reflection in the mirror.

The glass exploded into a shower of shards, and a rain of larger pieces. But with the cracking of the glass, Adrianna screamed in agony. Pain ripped through her body in lancing waves of blazing heat. Pinpoint stabs of pain erupted through her as it felt like her bones were snapping and being pulverized. She collapsed onto the towel, fighting to breathe while being overwhelmed by panic that threatened to smother her.

The sharpness of the pain was soon blunted, her entire body aching. She lay curled up, tears brought on by her hurt and fear. She opened her eyes slowly, afraid her eyes would confirm her feelings. Before her, half resting against the vanity was a large fragment of mirror. Her shuddering hand reached out, carefully grabbing it and bringing it closer to her face.

Adrianna gasped. She blinked her eyes repeatedly, even going as far as to sit up so she rub her eyes with her free hand. In the fragment of the mirror was a woman Adrianna could barely believe. The first thing she saw was the raven hair. Fine strands of sable floated down beside the face, lustrous in the sunlight. Beside that midnight curtain was clear, pale white skin that was flawless in its shape, lines and texture. It was then, Adrianna saw that her own hand still carried the gray pallour, while the parts that were reflected by the fragment were pink, flushed with a healthy colour that skin was meant to have. Finally, she was drawn to the eye that stared back at her. Bright blue of a clear sky looked back at her. It changed slightly, becoming more the blue of the tempestuous sea. She could not take her gaze away from it. Soon, she felt herself falling into the very blue captured by the mirror.


Adrianna felt herself sinking in the turbulent water. The cold water about her brought her back to her senses. She drove herself up towards the surface. Her lungs started to burn as she was buffeted by the water about her. Just when she thought she would breach the surface, the water would surge, adding a few more feet, or it would pull her down. Powerful, desperate strokes continued to propel her towards the air she needed.

She surfaced with a loud expulsion of air, and a rapid gulping of air before she sank beneath the waves once more. Adrianna was ready for the water's attempts to keep her submerged, and was able to keep her head above water enough to ensure she could breathe. A quick glance showed her land, and she swam towards the safety it offered her.

Again the waters fought her. She tired as her arms and legs left like they were made of lead. But through the spray of the ocean she could see vibrant colours of trees, flowers and birds. Those same birds called to her with voices that echoed life, joy and happiness. Both seemed to revive her flagging stamina, and she pushed on. After what felt like hours of swimming, she could hear the sound of the surf. Another surge of energy carried her closer to the shore. But the waters made one last effort to hold her back. Adrianna called on the deepest reserves of her courage. The wave slammed her on the sand, rolling her and trying to bury her face in the sand. But she scrambled up the beach, collapsing. She laughed, coughed and cried staring at the sky until she passed out.


Adrianna awoke with a start, shivering on the towel in her bathroom. She shivered, reaching for the warm, soft towel that she had been lying on. The smell of brine and the irritation of sand in delicate places confused her. She looked around at the pristine white walls of her bathroom. Eyes wide, she slowly looked down at herself, shocked to find that her skin was indeed a light shade of pink and not the sickly gray.

Forgetting her current state, she dashed into her luscious red bedroom, seeing the soft sheets and full blanket carefully laid out on her bed. Her hand covered her mouth, laughter and crying escaping her lips in equal measure as her still saucer like eyes took it all in. She stepped slowly through the remainder of her apartment, seeing all the bright colours of her walls, furniture and paintings.

She raced to the kitchen, opening the cupboards and finding her spices. She opened them frantically, inhaling lungfuls of rich, aroma laden air. She raced to the fridge, pulling out a soft, plump peach and taking a huge bite. The cold juice ran down either side of her chin, tickling her as they went. But the rich texture, and sweet taste of the fruit were like nothing she had ever had before.

There was a knock at the door, soft and polite. Adrianna responded to the knocking by walking to the door and opening it. Outside, a middle aged man in a hemp shirt, jeans and canvas shoes waited, smiling.

"Good morning, Adrianna. My name is Adrian, and I am your mentor. I am here to guide you as you start on the new journey of your life. May I come in?"

Even though she stood before him completely naked, his eyes never left hers. Adrianna looked puzzled for a moment, before she smiled again, opening the door to let him in. When the door closed, it closed on her old life, letting her step into the greater wonders her new life held in store for her.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's May 2011, Part One Writing challenge.

Rodger peered through the grime covered window pane, staring almost blankly at the cold water of the lake. He wondered how much longer it would take to have it ice over, locking the body of water into the same kind of stasis he was locked in. Most of the land was smothered in the white coating that descended from heaven. Just the lake stood there, defiant. The silent water flaunting the one quality it had that he would never have.

Offended by the seeming gloating manner of the lake, Rodger crossed the faded carpet that covered the floor to remove himself from the disgusting scene outside. His feet took him to a place where he knew his mind would take solace. His body knew that his mind was in the midst of a whirling vortex of destruction, purging his memories of cruel visions he just left.

Rodger stopped, his eyes closed as his nose drew in the unique fragrance of paper, leather, vellum and ink. Not even the pervasive tinge of dust detracted from the beauty of the olfactory chorus. If anything, it added a delicious counterpoint. With a certainty born of countless visits, his hand came to rest on a well used spine of a tome. The leather was almost chamois soft, the gold embossing almost completely rubbed away but the channels remained as they had from the very first day. Fingertips read the corrugated surface and embossing depressions, bring a smile to his face as he came to know the tome's name.

Reverently, he walked the narrow passages between the wealth of tomes, scrolls and loose sheaths of writing and illustrations. His hands would caress one tome or a rolled up scroll, drawing on the calming effects of those that called the room home. Several times, his hand went to remove one of the books, to gaze adoringly upon its contents. But he could not bring himself to disturb them. To look at one would break the harmony that he had striven for over the past years.

He left the room, so he didn't succumb to the temptation that clearly taunted him, like the lake had. He closed the door behind him. The loud click masked the sound within his soul. His resolve breaking further. He was tired. Tired of the endless battle he waged to maintain the order he longed for. He needed.

He turned for the front door, pacing with a strength of purpose that had been lacking in his travels during the day. He paused for a moment, his hand on the doorknob, then turned it and opened the door. Before him was the welcoming blanket of white. The coolness of the air nipped and bit at his exposed skin, but he ignored that as he strode to the gate that marked the boundary of his property. He came to a stop, his toes at the very edge of the path that terminated at the gate. Behind him was known, registered, controlled and laid out as he desired it. Beyond the gate was unknown, chaos and entropy.

He was as still as a statue as he ran through his reasons for taking the step, and not taking it. A whimsical smile flittered across his face as hisl ist of pros and cons evened out. Stalemate. Balance. Stasis.

But he was tired, one factor he hadn't processed. The only way he would know rest was to take the final step. She made sure that he got what he wanted.

"An end to the turbulence that afflicts my life with all manner of torments. I simply wish for there to be more stability without the ill fortunes of life!"

And so the next morning, it was as he sought. Within the confines of his property, there would be calm, stability and peace. For two hundred years, nothing changed in his house, his mind and life. The first few years were joyous, but then burdening and finally despairing. He loathed change, and the lake became his personal symbol of all that was ill in the world.

"As long as you stay within your lands," she spoke, "you will be freed of what you seek to loose. Stray from them, and they will return."

That lake marked one of the boundaries of his property. He turned, walking across the blanket of snow, marring the perfection with the passage of his feet. He closed on the defiant water, who's constant ebb and flow was felt like the most personal of insults. He came to a rest at the edge of the shore, the land meeting the water signifying the end of his land.

The burdens that gathered like driftwood that blocked and dammed a river seemed to break free. He stood straighter, taller and with a pride he never had before. He smiled warmly, taking the step he needed to take. His foot touched the icy water, sinking below the surface by a fraction of an inch.

He sighed, feeling the release of the curse he brought upon himself. His sunless pallor rapidly turned gray, small veins easily appearing under the translucent skin. His limbs turned spindly, making him waver as he stood. His muscles faded, making his breathing hard. His hair went gray before thinning and falling out.

He toppled forward toward the water, his smile stretching beyond human norm as his dessicated body fell into the water, dissolving almost immediately, along with the fabric of his clothing. The water rippled for a few moments, registering his passing before becoming flat and calm once more. Behind him, the mansion sagged, groaned and with a loud sigh, collapsed in on itself. The brief cloud of dust billowed before being swallowed by the snows.

By a minute after he stepped into the water, his lands looked as if no one had ever lived there. Neither would any remember.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's May 2011, Part One Writing challenge.

Echos​

Its name was Ashton, named after the creators. Furthermore, it was aware that it had a name.

The awareness came from those that stayed within it. The passions within the bedrooms crashed into the walls, imprinting the force of life into the seemingly lifeless structure, while the dreams wove a magic that wheedled its way through cracks and other openings. The gatherings for meals in the dining rooms produced slow crescendos of family bonds that seeped into the foundations of the house. The laughter of children, inside and out, helped add a layer of protection to the burgeoning awareness.

Decades passed and people came and left, but the Ashtons continued, as did Ashton. There were ones that worked within, using paint, paper, carpet and furniture to give a room a certain feel and air. Ashton absorbed it, reflecting back on the people, making it stronger. It never understood words, but emotions it did. Together, Ashton and those that care for it were pleased at the way others reacted when they saw what was done. With each decade, the living that occurred within the walls, within Ashton itself, fed and strengthened the awareness. Unknown to it, people commented about how lovely the house felt, that it really was a home. That people longed for a place just like it. The owners were proud, not knowing that they had an invisible helper.

Unlike Ashton, those within were fickle, temporary creatures. Those that gave Ashton awareness, and to some degree, purpose, left to never return. Ashton never understood why, but came to accept what happened. Others that came later changed things, and the changes felt wrong to Ashton. The passions changed, the dreams faded, less people gathered to eat and the laughter of children became mere echoes. People didn't care for Ashton's physical needs, and its maintenance got more and more difficult. Soon, as Ashton perceived it, there were no more staying within.

The passing of the seasons meant little to it, but the lack of people made it feel cold, slugish and lonely. This was something that Ashton had know knowledge of, nor means to deal with. The longer Ashton went without people, the more of Ashton's awareness faded. Emotions ceased to come to Ashton, memories vanished and purpose ceased. With the coming of one winter, the awareness could recall two things; Ashton, and echos of laughter.


Gary rubbed his hands together to get some more circulation and hopefully some friction in his hands as the latest potential buyers approached the gate.

"Hello, Robert, Tilly and... Max?"

"Maxwell!" The small boy declared proudly. The adults laughed. Gary unlocked the gate, pushing it open, allowing the family to enter. Maxwell ran for a small drift of snow, Tilly went after her wayward son and the men moved towards the front door.

"So why has this place been unoccupied for so long?"

"Well, Robert, it's a big place, out of the way from most of the little conveniences of life. Plus, most of the people just didn't click with the place. It does need a little TLC, but nothing structurally wrong with it." Gary unlocked the front door, pushing it open. "Once it went up on the market, we have it cleaned every so often."

Ashton felt the presence of something familiar, though it could not place what it was, or why it felt familiar. It tried to rouse itself, but all that happened was the pull of the remaining memories. Again, the withering and wilting of the awareness continued, just as the seasons did.

Tilly and Maxwell caught up with the men. She slowed down, looking around in something similar to awe. Maxwell wanted to get free of his mother's arms, and started to fuss and wriggle. Without thinking, Tilly tickled him, causing him to laugh.

Laughter echoed through the room, and through Ashton's awareness. Ashton roused further, feeling the wonder rolling off one of those within. Wonder that Ashton felt many times before. The sluggishness was fading. Maxwell broke free and ran to one of the nearby rooms as Gary launched into his sales pitch. The room Maxwell ran into had one doorway connected to it, and nothing that he could break, or harm himself on. The adults moved on a little, though Tilly kept looking back.

Maxwell saw pretty colours and patterns on the wall, and strange shapes on the ceiling. He laughed again, listening to the way the sounds bounced around. Ashton wanted to laugh too, since it was the one thing that remained with it. The boy's face went from joy to surprise, his own laughter ceasing. A look of excitement grew on the little boy's face as he moved carefully, listening.

Move. Stop. Listen. Smile. Move. Stop. Listen. Smile. Move...

Maxwell could not hear his parents, or Gary anymore. He was following the sounds of laughing. Away from the living areas, the little boy went back outside. Through the snow he ran until he got to a bare tree where the remains of a home made swing hung from one of the branches. Maxwell bent over the seat, swinging in his tummy, laughing along with the other laughter he heard.

His parents saw him through a window, safely having fun. Robert and Tilly were looking at each other, while Gary walked out of the room. This couple are different, he thought, they look genuinely interested. He had lost count of the people who he showed through, only to leave not liking the 'feel of the place.' Not one word from either of them once they were inside, but both looked over everything.

"What do you think, Till?"

"Rob, I love it. Can't you feel it? I swear that the place is calling out to us."

"Yeah... Max likes it. I haven't heard him laugh like that in a long time. And look at him. I reckon he'll be up that tree in no time if we move in."

"I'd like to change it back, Rob. Make it more like the way it was, rather than how it is... now."

"Well, let's see if I can make the two of you happier then." Rob kissed Tilly on the forehead and went back to Gary.

"I think we'll take it, Gary."

"Mister Ashton, you don't know how happy that makes me feel to hear that news."

Ashton felt the echos of things long past awaken within its awareness once more.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's May 2011, Part Two Writing challenge.

That Song​

"The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called 'Gitche Gumee'
The lake-"

"Oh Sam, not that fucking song again!"

The obese man stop his song, turning his mass of black bristling hair to look at Rob with an openly questioning look, before he chuckled. "Ok, sorry. I really like it, and since we're looking over this old tub to see if we can float her again, you know, I thought it was a good song to sing."

"Yeah, but every time we go out on a salvage run like this, you sing that song almost all the time. I, personally, am getting sick of it. If you know something else, please sing that for a change."

"Alright, Rob. Since I don't know any other songs well enough to sing, I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to rouse you like that, buddy. You know, I can't figure out what happened to the crew. I have seen no evidence of life boats or life jackets being taken. Have you?"

"No, actually, I haven't. I've checked the crew's quarters, mess and such, but no signs of them there. No signs of violence, nor disturbances apart from what would happen when the old Lady ran aground."

"Good thing the autopilot commenced slowing down, otherwise the hull would have been torn off." Rob looked around, scratching his head. "I'm going to the security room and see what's there?"

"Security room? You're kidding me."

"Nope. The cargo that Lady Rana has been carrying recently warranted extra security measures. They have cameras and other gear like that all over the place. Maybe some of the footage will show up a clue or two."

"You do that, Rob. I'll check things here. You holler for me if you find anything."

Rob waved as he headed deeper into the crewed section of the freighter. Sam stayed on the bridge, checking the instruments and other systems to see if there was anything that could shed light in the grounding.

"Holy shit! Sam, get down here! Quickly. The cameras caught something."

"On my way buddy." Sam moved slowly toward the security room. He walked through the opened door, closing it quietly behind him. Rob's voice was muffled, before he started to scream.

"What the fuck?!?! How did... Get away from me!! GET AW-"

~||~​

Sam walked back to the bridge, whistling softly to himself. Once he reached the pilot's wheel, he started to sing. But rather than the raspy voice, he sang with a clear woman's voice.

"The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called 'Gitche Gumee'
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
As Robbie found out the hard way."

The laughter was light, and definitely feminine. "They are mine now, no one elses. Just mine."

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's June 2011, Part One Writing challenge.

Adrian & Adrianna Tale #2​

She had reached such heights and feelings that Adrianna never thought would exist. Then he arrived, and showed her more. He made what she went through seem pale, weak, almost nothing. Then he started to teach her. The euphoria was washed way by the tears she shed every night. It was all too hard to understand, let alone put into practice. What made it worse was the way he would look at her. That slight smile that said 'You can do it, only in you try.' She had seen that smile on the face of more teachers at her schools that she cared to remember.

Why did he have to bring me here? Of all the places he could have chosen.

"Because this place is special."

Adrianna turned, a small cloud of dust rising as high as her jean clad knee. She pulled the jacket together a little tighter as she looked back at her mentor. As always, he wore a short sleeve polo style shirt, jeans made of hemp canvas, and a belt made of some unusual leather running through the loops. His canvas loafer style shoes showed no signs of the dust that caked her boots, even though they walked through the same terrain.

"You're reading my mind again."

Adrian ignored the flat tone of the statement. "I was monitoring your emotions. If you don't want me to hear you, don't think so strongly about things. You practically shouted it loud enough for me to hear you a couple of miles away."

He paused beside her, looking around at the sparse vegetation and the magnificent rock outcrop. He closed his eyes for a moment. He breathed deeply, letting himself gain a feel for the land he was standing on. He opened his eyes, turning to look at Adrianna. "Have a look about. See the place with your new eyesight. This place must be much more colourful for you this time around."

Adrianna was too grumpy to allow herself the ability to agree with him. Everything was much clearer, brighter and better defined than when she came there with her family over a decade ago. "Yeah, it all looks better. You had to drag me out to the middle of fucking nowhere just to show me the difference in how things look. As if I haven't noticed at home."

"I brought you here so you could see the difference more clearly."

"Hah!" She stomped off a few paces. "Take me away from civilization, to a place with fuck all to show for it. The food sucks. What did you do? Buy 50 year old leather instead of meat?" She stormed back to face him. "And that fucking thing you call a tent? My sleeping bag at home has more room in it."

"Have you finished? Or would you like to say what you feel about me? You don't have to, as I have heard it all as you were composing it. You know, for most people, what you said is not physically possible. Someone with my talents, however, can do those things. Not that I would, as it would bring me no extra pleasure. But with enough training, I am sure that you would be able to do it."

Adrianna blushed deeply, turning away and trying to calm herself down enough so he wouldn't hear what she was thinking. It still unsettled her knowing what he could do. What she had the potential to do. A part of her still didn't believe it, no matter how much evidence piled up in front of her. But he did things that should not be possible, and told her that she could do those things too.

"Adrianna."

The way he spoke to her, she knew he was in his teaching mode.

"There were even more important reasons for your coming here. One of them was to open your sight further. To allow you to see some of the things I am able to see. For you to take the first steps in gaining the fullest use of your inheritance. Like all of us, you will learn to see Life in others, to know how Life is and works. Now remember what you have been taught."

"I CAN'T. I have tried, remember? Every time I have done one of the simple rituals, done exactly as you asked me and told me, I have not been able to do it." Adrianna ran away from him, tears pouring down her cheeks. "I didn't ask for this. I sure as hell don't want it now. Take it back."

"It is not something I can take back." Adrian stood still, his eyes following her as she moved about.

"LIAR. You can do anything. You said it yourself. Anything you imagine you do." She ran back to him, sliding over the last few feet on her knees. "Imagine it for me! Imagine that I am not like you and make it happen."

"If I could do it, I wouldn't. You have been chosen for a reason. Now, do as you have been instructed, Apprentice."

"NO!" She leapt to her feet, grabbing large fistfuls of his shirt. "I can't."

Adrian reached to his belt and pulled out an old, plain but highly functional dagger. His free hand grabbed one of her fists. His fingers pried her fingers loose, enabling him to grab her thumb. He brought the dagger's edge to her thumb, slicing it cleanly to let her blood well and run free down the digit. "Do it."

Adrianna felt the steel in his voice. She let go of him, stepping back. Shaking with fear, she closed her eyes and pressed her bleeding thumb to each eyelid. Please let me do this Her lips quivered as she spoke, "Water of Life; make the rose tinted lens; show me the Life; within all I can see."

She opened her eyes, flooding with tears of fear, shame and the sting from her thumb. Beyond her, everything looked unchanged. It hadn't worked. The sinking feeling within her started to pool and drag her down into the well of self loathing that was growing stronger.

"Adrianna! Don't beg for it to work. Make it work. Believe in it and it will work!"

"Fuck off, Adrian. I can't do it."

"You don't want to do it. You're a lazy cunt with no ambition to be anything."

"Fuck you. You don't know anything about me."

Adrian sighed. "I have seen enough. Most students I have had prior to you have been able to do this within a week of starting their education. But then they have been excited about their newly awakened talent, rather than just coasting long."

Adrianna waved her arms, sending a small spray of blood over the dirt. "I can't understand what you want me to do. It's all too mind fucking for me."

"Then believe in yourself and do it."

Adrianna looked at Adrian, trying to bore two holes in him with her eyesight alone. She winced when she squeezed her thumb. She plastered her eyelids with a fresh coat of her blood. Lazy cunt, huh? I don't care if you can hear me, prick. "Water of Life; make the rose tinted lens; show me the Life; within all I can see." She knew it would work this time. She wanted nothing more than to show her all knowing teacher that he was wrong about her.

She felt something within her belly. A lurch like when an elevator dropped suddenly. She opened her eyes in fright over the feeling, only to be confronted by the scariest sight in her life. He master stood before her, but he was overlaid with what looked like shimmering, psychedelic lights. They shifted and changed with his facial expressions. Most were a shade of red, with some orange and yellows mixed in. Her hand was shaking as it came into view. It too was covered in the same kind of light, though there was some lime green drifting about within it.

"You are fighting off a cold. That is what that shade of green tells you. And that dark brown line on the bone in your arm, that is a healing hairline fracture you got the day we met."

"How..." Adrianna's jaw hung loose as she looked at the different colours on her body, Adrian's body and everything around them. The plants all showed similar auras showing their state of health.

"Experience will give you the ability to read the colours of the aura. How you managed it finally? A simple thing. I knew what buttons to push to get you thinking the right way. You needed to believe in yourself, deeply believe. The only way I could do that was getting you angry with me. Pride, in the proper dosages, is a good thing."

Adrian placed both hands on either side of her head. "Close your eyes." When she had, he ran his thumbs over her eyelids, removed all traces of her blood from her skin.

As he did that, Adrianna felt something within her go, and she felt strangely normal again. "What happened?" Her eyes darted around, confirming her suspicions that her sight was normal once again.

"I ended the effect." He took up her hand with the still bleeding thumb. "Very soon, you will use the knowledge gained by that sight to be able to do things like this." The flow of the blood from her thumb stopped. She looked on in awe as the blood stains on her hand faded until they were gone. "Don't panic. Your body took back the blood."

Adrian sat on the ground, gesturing Adrianna to do the same. "I also brought you here for another reason. What you will be going through for the remainder of your life will be like the land here. It will be harsh, testing and full of nastiness the likes you would not see normally back home. However, like those that survive here, you will be stronger, resilient and more hardy than those found elsewhere. Plus, you will be more alive and more glorious in your time too.

"When the rains come here, the plants flower with such colour and fill the air with a perfume that almost breaks a person's heart. That same magnificence is in you, Apprentice. You have felt the edges of it today. You have felt the shallowest edge of the power that you have been gifted. You now believe in yourself and that power. Even now, you are more powerful than ninety-nine percent of the population. As you education continues, you will be able to do more and more." He rolled onto his knees, which placed him right in front of Adrianna. He enveloped her in a warm hug. "Now, let me show you what I can do with that rightly named leather I got for us to eat. These talents of ours do have their uses."

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's June 2011, Part Two Writing challenge.

[OOC: This piece draws heavily on concepts and ideas from the Mage: The Ascension RPG by White Wolf.]

Johnathon Prescott stared at the plain unadorned blade that glinted in the soft light. It was so unlike any other of it's sister blades. Plain, functional and deadly. Not ornate. Not with some unusual line or shape to the edge.

He pulled his hand back into his lap, stopping it from yet again reaching out to claim the weapon that beckoned to his awakened soul. He could feel the connection between them from his previous lives. He felt the echoes of the times that they together ended lives that had reached the point of no return. He felt the blade urging him to take that path once more, and fulfill their mutual reasons for existence.

"No. Doing that is admitting failure. Why cull when one can cure with the same talents? That is what I do now. I find those in danger before they are lost. I change their paths so they are not candidates for the good death. I stop the damage done to themselves and others before it happens."

Cool, determined dedication to duty rolled off the blade. Even to Johnathon's arcane senses, there was no malice coming from the blade. He could only sense the call to let it do its duty. Johnathon pulled his hand back gain, leaping from his chair. He put a greater distance between him and the blade. His hands covered his face, his body scrunched up tight against itself.

Mist filled the cobbled streets. The cold heavy air seemed to push at his skin. Hardly any noises reached his ears through the darkened gloom about him. He tilted his head to one side and down, pausing. His eyes rose to stare straight ahead. The smile blossomed with grace. The white air swallowed the sounds on his footfalls as he set off after his target.

Fortune granted the target many gifts. Each of them capable of helping his fellow man, while increasing his personal good fortune in return. ut he squandered it, blinded by his own greed. With each passing day, the damage to The Wheel, and his own soul, was increasing. His soul would not be ale to recover for many cycles, if at all, if he continued his current path. That was why he was now a target, and would feel the touch of the blade.

Senses augmented by talents awakened by his brothers, lessons taught over many years and an outlook that was altered all came together to bring him closer to the one task that was deemed the most sacred of them all. He bore no malice for the target. He did have remorse for what was about to happen, and why it was to happen. He felt no joy in what he was about to do. Taking of a life was not enjoyable, regardless of who they were. But he would see it done, for all of those that would suffer if he didn't.

The target appeared in the gloom. Short, stout, richly dressed and full of arrogance and false self-importance. As always, he had a moment of self doubt. 'Is this right? Must I kill this man to fix some cosmic flaw? What if I am wrong?' The same questions came to him. 'This doubt is good to have.' The memories of his mentor's voice soothed his troubled mind. 'To question is always good, as long as the answer feel right. If there is ever real doubt, then it is not the time for the sacred act.' He allowed himself to ask the question once more. The words sank into his heart and soul. He felt the turmoil of the question, then the reassurance of the answer.

He took two steps forward, slapping his hand over the man's chubby mouth, drawing his head back enough to allow the clear passage of the blade across his throat. He held the dying target, hearing the rain of life on the stones as the moving body he held grew still. Knowing the target was now one with the Wheel once more, he lowered the body to the street, laying him flat on his back, closing the dead man's eyes.

"May God see you safely to where you need to be, and absolve you of your sins due to the Rite you have been through." He crossed himself, releasing the spell that would wash away the stains of corruption from his body, reflecting the same cleansing on the soon to depart soul.

He stood up, taking one last look at the man he had slain, then walked back to his home to complete with the Rite he started when he gave the Good Death.

"Don't you think I know what we have done together in the past? How many times I carried you in hand and removed an impediment to the turning of The Wheel?" Johnathon turned to look at the blade. Unmoved from the red velvet cloth that had been its blanket, its shroud for the past one hundred years, it sat patiently. Johnathon knew it harboured no intelligence as some other artifacts did, but over the centuries it had developed an awareness of itself and the one it was bonded too. Johnathon could feel it react to his emotions as a loyal dog would in the presence of its master. Johnathon fought the feeling that the blade was trying to calm him down, appeal to some serenity that the static blade possessed.

"Times like this, I think I am mad for believing I can change the world in ways beyond those of normal people. That I hallucinate everything I see when I invoke my arcane talents. Here am I talking to myself as if a bloody dagger can understand me!" He walked over to the drinks cabinet. One door swung open sharply to allow him access to the tumbler and decanter within. He poured a generous amount of the amber fluid, drawing half of it out of the glass before the decanter was put down. The eye watering fire that scorched his throat and blasted his stomach seemed to bring him back from the precipice. He turned to look at the blade once more, leaning back against the cabinet.

"The moment I saw you, I knew what you were. I knew what you meant." He took a quick sip. "I knew what we had done together. I was sickened at the thought of what we did together. I felt every one of those lives passing me. I felt the blood. I felt the resistance of the flesh as you passed through them. I know back then, I didn't mind doing it, because it needed to be done. Not now, though. I can do more by changing a life than taking one. My weapons are words, letters and laws. Courtroom battles and private meetings have replaced actual battles and private killings. I have no further need for you in this lifetime."

"I know you helped the police and the D.A. try to put me away, but you weren't good enough, lawyer man." Johnathon stood as the thinning haired man mountain loomed over him. "But there was just enough doubt there that I had killed them. Well, doubt in the minds of the jury folk. But there is no doubt anywhere else is there?"

"No, none at all."

"Then you'd best be careful in future. You might decide to drop someone you shouldn't, and they'll not be so nice to you afterward like me. You are too weak for me to worry about. Not worth my time working up a sweat."

"Then you would be very wrong, Max. I could make you sweat very easily."

The large, meaty hand slammed into Johnathon's shoulder twice as Max bellowed a deep, belly laugh before he walked away. Five people were dead because of him, and a mere technicality had got the crucial evidence thrown out of court.

"Ohh... very clever. No. I am NOT taking you up, and looking for Max Sumner, nor any of the others that slipped through the cracks. There are others who will far more happily remove him from the gene pool. Plus, I would enjoy killing him too much. It took three months before the pain left my shoulder after that incident." Johnathon was standing before the small table that housed the blade. His abdomen rose and fell violently. He stared at the blade, his mind devoid of all thought. The black spiral of the leather grip was as smooth as it was the day it was finally crafted. Not on scratch, nick or blemish marred the actual blade itself. He knew that the edge was razor sharp and there was little on Earth that would dull it. The guard and pommel of the dagger were clean and the simple decorations unfaded. Johnathon knew that it would fit his hand perfectly.

"I have not learned any fighting skills in my current life." He drained the glass, shooting the blade a cheeky smile once he finished. "I would be useless to you. The first use, and I would be in jail for the rest of my life and you would be locked away again." Johnathon shook his head. "You found me too late. I'm too set in my ways to become the killer that you need."

The moment that Johnathon's fingers caressed the leather, he tried to pull his hand away. But his body was listening to another part of his mind, one that carried over from his previous journeys through life. His hand curled around the handle, confirming his suspicions about the fit. He lifted the blade, looking at his reflection in the metal.

"You know, maybe I could make one exception, just for Max."

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's July 2011 Writing challenge.

Loss​

Jessica looked out her window at the drab, overcast sky. Her wan smile was the only feature of her reflected expression that came close to breaking the intense look on nothingness locked on her face. Halting, difficult movement swung her head to her right, looking over her shoulder at the small table in her room. A shuddering breath escaped her lips as she fully turned towards the table. The sweat pants she wore got caught on the window lock, and she mechanically freed herself from it. Her feet dragged as she crossed to where the table, along with a fresh pad of writing paper and pens, waited for her. No sooner than she had seated herself, her rich chocolate eyes filled to overflowing, and tears ran like raging rivers down her cheeks. Soft sobs filled the quiet of the room as her body was wracked by the heaving of her crying.

Eventually, the tears stopped, and she pulled herself upright. She viciously rubbed the evidence of her crying from her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, along with the clear discharge from her nose. She pushed her dark brown hair beck behind her ears as her lips became a line, almost nonexistent line.

She took up one of the pens, shifted the pad to a better position and took a deep breath.

Dear Tom,

Today marks one year since I watched the light fade from your eyes, and felt the last beat of your strong heart. Since that day, I have been empty. The world is gray. I feel nothing but the loss of you.

I can't believe how much you became a part of my life over the short time we were together. Without you, I feel that half of me is gone, cut away and never to heal. I miss being beside you in our bed, the feel of your arms wrapped around me, holding me firmly, gently, encased in the love you had for me. The feel of your cock, wet with our juices pressed against my red ass, is something that I truly miss. Even now, I can close my eyes and see that wonderful look of hunger in your eyes as you pinned me to the bed, taking me with the passion and lust that burned within you. To no longer have that burning look directed at me leaves me so cold now.

I am grateful that when you left me, that it was not like so many of your fellow officers have, in the line of duty. The doctors told me that you felt no pain in your final moments. I saw no pain in your eyes, but then you always were able to hide things from me with those eyes. You never lied to me, but you always were able to surprise me when you let the curtains drop from behind those lovely sapphire orbs of yours. But there was no hiding the dimming of them as your brain was slowly crushed by the leak.

Tom, my love, you were always the stronger of the two of us. I know you praised my courage and strength, claiming that being the submissive, I had those in greater quantities. But I only had them because you gave me the rock to hold on to. I have nothing to safely rest against to let them be useful again. No one showed me more about myself than you. No one guided me so carefully, so respectfully, or with such dedication as yourself.
​

Fresh tears rolled down Jessica's cheeks. She dropped the pen and screamed in frustration. Her anger drove her arms to remove the tears. She leapt out of the chair, running to the window.

"I'm sorry, honey. I can't go on without you." She ran and threw herself onto the bed, fumbling with the bedside table to pull open the top draw. She almost pulled out completely, throwing all the contents up to the front of the draw. She reached for the bottle of pills, her fingers brushing cold metal. She stopped completely, not even breathing for a few seconds. Her fingers curled around the metal, pulling it out. A plain set of handcuffs came into view, the key in one of the locks. Her eyes widened as her other hand came to caress the dangling metal.

Fresh tears wet her cheeks, but these accompanied a smile that brought her entire face along. She sat up slowly, looking around the room, her eyes desperately seeking out something special.

~||~​

Jessica sat at the table once more, the light green cardigan's sleeves pushed back above her elbows.

Tom, my love, please forgive me for my break in this. But I have to thank you, my deepest love, for once more showing me where I was going wrong, and how to get onto the right path again.

The man at the engravers gave me the funniest of looks when I asked to get them engraved. "Bound for eternity." on one, "Loved for eternity." on the other. When I saw them, I knew you were still watching out for me. They were what opened our eyes to who we were, and how we would love each other. Nothing warmed my heart more than having you slip them around my wrists, because it reminded me of how much you have given me since that very first time. Telling him that I had them from my policeman husband quelled the look, but only slightly. Until I told him that you died a year ago today. Then he nodded and did the work.

I know that you wanted me to continue with my life if you died before me. And I wanted to, but I found I couldn't. Today, my love, I have seen your gift, and I know that I can do it. But know this, Tom, someone else may own this body, and maybe even share my heart, but my soul is yours, and when I die, I shall join you and we will continue our journey together.

As I look down at my left wrist, both cuffs firmly encircling my flesh, I know that I now have that rock I once had, to anchor myself against to give me back the strength and courage you said I had. They will remind me of you, and in turn, remind me of the person you helped me find in myself.

Twice now, you have saved me. For that, I can never thank you enough.

Rest easily, my darling husband. I will live. With luck, I will love again too. You are my sun, and no one will ever eclipse you.


Your loving submissive, wife and friend,

Jess
​

Bright eyes full of life looked at the message to her husband. The pen was delicately laid beside the pad. She lifted her wrist to her cheek, feeling the cool metal of her husband's standard issue cuffs. She turned her wrist one way. Bound for eternity. Turning it the other, she read the other half. Loved for eternity. A triumphant smile graced her face as she stood up to resume the life that had been on hold for a year.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's September 2011, Part One Writing challenge.

Josie spent the time enjoying the feel of light fabrics against her clean skin. As soon as she got home, she lowered herself into a warm bubble bath, and simply floated until the water grew cold. To simply lie still, undisturbed and not on edge waiting for someone to shatter the all encompassing serenity. She giggled to herself at how significant that small luxury had become during her time away.

When Josie got out of the bath, she felt clean in a way that defied logic. During her time overseas, she showered as regularly as she needed, but it didn't have the same feel to it. She didn't spend too much time thinking about the reasons for the differences. She dried herself quickly, and found something to wear.

Of course, being out of her home for the past three years meant that it was stuffy when she opened the front door. Windows were opened to let air circulate, and every door inside was wedged open to maximize the air flow. Coming out of the bath, she was also greeted with a much nicer smelling house. But as she went to sit down on the bed, she saw that opening the window may not have been the best of ideas. The wind decided to leave her some welcome home gifts that she could have done without.

The window happened to allow some light into her bedroom, which helped to warm up the room. Her thin lace top let the sun's gentle warmth pass through to her skin, bathing it in the same gentle manner the bath water had done earlier. But her hand reached for one of the leaves that lay scattered on her bed. Her fingers brushed the dry, fragile leaf that lay there. Once part of a mightier living thing, it was no longer needed, and in order to preserve the greater living being, it was sacrificed; let go to drift off, wither and die.

Josie wiped away a tear that formed from that thought. The images were too strong, the pain too near to her heart. She was just home, and all she wanted was to relax a little before facing the world anew. That was why her hair was left to fall from her head, to touch her back once more in the way she adored so much. The length her mother liked too; long enough to do many things with it, but not long enough to be too much of a hassle. Josie also loved how it felt when her mother brushed her hair. That gentle tug of the passage of the brush through her hair reminded her of her mother's love. The quiet time they shared as her mother groomed her. The simple bonding time between mother and daughter.

"I must make some time to go and see her again. I'd love to see her, and I am certain that she would love to see me too."

Again, her hand found the leaf. Dry. Brittle. Dessicated. Just like she felt in that moment. Tears flowed again, this time from a different source. Bradley. They had been a couple full of life, love and passion. She loved the times when he scooped her up, then threw her on the bed, frantically removing her clothing. His mouth would scald her already heated flesh as he tasted every bit of her that he exposed. He would continue to use his mouth until there was nothing left in Josie's mind but the overwhelming need. She would be so overwhelmed by the intense feelings that there would be no real coherent thought. Her awareness of anything else would vanish under his expert attention. Only then, he would spear her, pressing her down with his full weight. Not even that blanket of solid flesh would keep her from accelerating higher and higher until she exploded from the pressure of the joy within her. Brad would remind her of his presence when she felt his heat splash within her, and she would barely hear the loud cry of joy.

But then there were days when she would pin him against the wall. She would roughly unveil him, letting her lips slide over the planes, ridges and furrows of his body. He was a natural man, shaped by physical labour. He smelled like a man how worked hard, which drover her made at times. Still, she would not stop. Her hands would leave his long enough to free him of more of his clothing, then she would pin his arms to the wall again. The time she enjoyed the most was the freeing of his monolith of masculinity. How proud it stood, declaring to all that he was a red blooded male, potent and virile. How she loved to take him in her mouth, tease him mercilessly until she either brought him to his peak, tasting the richness of his gift, or dragging him to the floor, straddling him and using him to take herself to heaven many times before finally letting him get his release too.

Tears came to her eyes once more, as she remembered those times when they made love to each other. Long hours in bed, touching, kissing, caressing. They would stoke the fires in each other slowly and tenderly. Then they would eventually join, and the slow expression of love would continue until they both gifted each other with expressions of their deep felt love for each other. But they would continue to stay together, kissing, caressing each other, swapping tender words and strengthening their bonds.

But it was not to be. Her career, her calling, had broken them up, and as hard as they tried, it didn't survive. They kept in contact, and she knew that he had found someone else, married and soon to be a father. Again, the leaf touching her hand reminded her of her life. The fragile emotions she carried. The long dried out and dead love life. The feeling barren like the tree that once held the leaf she now fleetingly held.

Again, the barren tree that shed the leaves to allow it to survive the long harsh winter. How the small leaves were sacrificed for the greater to live. How many times she saw the same happen while she was away. Sacrifices left to die so that which was greater than they could continue to live. Men, some little older than boys, defying the efforts of others to keep them alive, passed away. Men fighting those that threatened the their home. These men she nursed to health, or tried to nurse to help.

Each leaf was a reminder of those servicemen. Each one of the leaves was dead. Each leaf would lay somewhere, gone, never to take part in the life of the country, the 'tree' from which they came. Like the leaves, they lay scattered across the land, resting in different places. And like those leaves on her bed, he was helpless to stop their deaths too.

One leaf was selected, raised to between the sun and her eyes. So much detail was there for her to see. But like those dead and discarded she saw not so long ago, this leaf once helped the tree grow and remain healthy. They too, helped their 'tree' grow, and remain healthy and strong. Holding the leaf, she forgot about what is was there and then. Her mind painted it green, lush and full of the life that helped it keep the mighty tree growing. Her eyes closed, and the broken, torn and shattered bodies became whole again, vibrant young men who would live on in her mind as virile young men.

The cycle of the seasons. Birth, growth, aging and death. She stood up, holding the leaf, carrying it to the window. She stared at the thin, brown object cupped in her hands. "Thank you. It's going to be a hard lesson to apply, but I will do my best." She kissed the brittle shape, lifting and separating her hands. The wind came from nowhere, lifting the leaf, carrying it away from her sight.

One by one, the other leaves joined it on their final journey, leaving her alone once more in her bedroom.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's September 2011, Part One Writing challenge.

Autumn​

Sandra sat on her bed, freshly dressed having come from the bath. He hand ran idly through the wind blown collection of dried leaves scattered across her covers. Pausing to push her raven hair back, she picked up on of the leaves and looked at the dry, brittle example of once life giving vegetation.

When she first awoke, and was trained, when she looked at a leaf such as that, all she would have seen was the death of the leaf, and it's subsequent decay. She would have seen the necessity of the leaf's death, but little more. She had taken lives, as her training and beliefs dictated, but she cared little for those that met the good death at her hands.

That was before she met him. Adrian.

She had heard of the life mages, and how they viewed those of her kind. There had been many arguments, and more than one feud over the differences when it came to the living beings. But not him. He knew her for what she was, and it made no difference to him. He talked to her about her views and beliefs. He never told her that they were wrong, but he challenged her at every turn. He made her think about it all, question it herself, look deeper into her own self to see what it really meant to her.

He was the first person to see her as a person. He was the first one who was gentle with her, even when he pushed her to her limits. She would get so angry when talking with him, but never at him. It was mostly with herself. Like the vines, he broke through, and broke down her walls and got to see who was hiding in there. She fell for him, and not long after, he showed her another kind of death - the little death.

Sandra turned the leaf, seeing not a death, but a release. The leaf had served its purpose, and had gone through the natural span of its life to be released from its burdens and gain its reward. If it were a fully sentient being, like the tree that it once supported, it would return anew to continue the cycle. After meeting Adrian, she never killed. She released the one she found. Sometimes, death wasn't involved, just some great change. But when every she granted the good death, she mourned their passing, then rejoiced at the knowledge that they would come back again, carrying a small fragment of wisdom from their previous time that would make their next life even better.

Like all things, her time with Adrian came to an end. She was not saddened by that, for she knew that the Fates had someone else for her, and she would meet them soon. But Adrian reminded her of why she had been gifted, and chosen to walk the path she had. Many of her brethren were slowly being tangled in the black strands of death, becoming more like the dark robed one rather than the bearers of the guiding light. She learned how to embrace the darker side to help give the benefits of the lighter side.

Falling leaves. The sign to Persephone to return to Hades' side. Time for the barrenness of the land to come, paving the way for the bloom of spring that heralded Persephone's return. That's what Sandra did, help those in their autumn move onto the their winter, so that they may one more know the joys of spring again.

Sandra stood up, and started a slow dance with her delicate, brown skinned partner, thanking him for his great gifts; bring life to another, and passing on to make way for another to grant the same gift.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's September 2011, Part Two Writing challenge.

Autumn's Last Fall​

The woman slowly stirring in the bed was oblivious to the two who looked down on her. Compassion and heartache radiated of the pair as they looked on, observing the tortured movements, whimpers and soft croaking of a dried out voice.

The man, taller than his female offsider by a full head, lifted his bowed head, and turned to walk out the door. The only noise he made as he left the room was that of his hemp based jeans as the legs rubbed together as he walked. His cotton shirt, and soft soled canvas shoes were effectively silent as he left. A pace or two behind him, the raven haired, pale skinned woman followed with a light swish of the black lacy fabric that made up her dress. Together, the two walked down the empty hallway until they reached an equally empty waiting area.

The man turned to face the younger woman. Unlike her pale complexion and dark hair, he sported a healthy tan, along with light brown hair that was going a "very distinguish gray" according to most of his friends. Unlike his companion, his expression was locked into a neutral pose.

"Have you seen her, Adrian? Actually seen her?" She waved her arms about, emphasizing her point as well as releasing pent up energy. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Is it because you can't heal her? Are you trying to keep her from being helped by me, because she can't be helped by you?" She shook her head violently. "Surely you can see how much she is suffering. You, of all people, should know what is happening to her, and what is being done to her."

"Yes, Sandra, I can see it more clearly than you can."

"Really?" Sandra took a step closer, bending her head back to look him in the eye. "Strange. Since every time I have mentioned about ending her suffering, you have denied me. And people call my kind cold blooded killers, but I am a blazing sun compared to you."

"In keeping with the metaphor, you are more a nova in progress, destroying everything that gets in your way."

"What?! I thought you had compassion. I thought you cared about people. You know, that whole True Believer shit to stick to like glue. Tell me, where in your beliefs does this fit in? Huh? Where you'd let someone suffer terribly by not helping them!"

"As you know, God moves in mysterious ways, none more so than His aiding me the way He does. Her time has not yet come, Sandra. And she is not Fated to die by your hand."

"You know more about the Fate of another than me?" Her voice rose in pitch to a near painful level. "We know more about Fate than you ever will. Your kind prefer to be elbows deep in blood and guts. You focus on Life, Adrian, let me deal with Death."

"I thought you were better than this, Sandra. I never saw you being so bigoted. You may have a better overall understanding of the flow of Fate, and the time of release, but you are wrong on this one. The reason for it is simple. You are too emotionally invested in her."

"Fuck you, Adrian. I know what needs to be done, I know what's right. I am going to go and do the right thing and end her suffering right now." She spun, the edges of her dress bending the jeans legs from the force. With clear anger in her stride, he started to head down the hall.

"Sandra, come back here right now!" Adrian was surprised when she pointed to heaven with her middle finger, not breaking her stride.

"Fine," he spoke softly. He closed his eyes. There was only one way he could stop her, and she would resist him even there. It took him moments to devise how he would complete the task, then quickly released the spell, aimed at Sandra.

Her legs buckled, sending her staggering into the wall. One arm clutched above her head for support, while her other arm disappeared in front of her. He didn't have to guess that Sandra's other hand was pressed hard at the junction of her legs in reaction to the waves of pleasure washing over her from there. She slumped back hard against the wall, slowly turning her head to look at Adrian. Her eyelids fluttered and her whole body trembled as she drew a breath to speak.

"You... God forsaken... oohhhhh... bastard. I never th-th-thought you'd..."

"Ever use my mastery of Life magic to make you hyper aroused? I never thought so either, but I had to stop you. Plus, I had to make sure that you couldn't think too clearly to try and counter me again."

Sandra was rapidly drawing up her skirt, exposing her black underwear to him. He could see that she was soaked, and must have been rather close to climaxing. He continued to walk past her, not bothering to continue to watch as her first touch sparked a spectacular orgasm. He had seen enough of her body when they were lovers, as well as her being his student. She cried out twice more by the time he reached the door.

He was sweating slightly as he maintained the spell on Sandra. He closed on the woman in the bed, looking at her. "I'm so sorry. Sandra wants you to die now, but it is not your time yet. There is something more you need to do first."

He pulled out a dagger that was little more than a blade with a place to be safely gripped. He sliced across his wrist, with blood welling up and beading on his skin. He lowered his wrist closer to her mouth, letting the light trickle fall into her slightly opened mouth.


Elizabeth woke from the best sleep she remembered. She stretched, feeling relaxed and refreshed. As her eyes opened, she looked at her hand. She yelped, sending the limb to the bed. She lay still for a few moments, her chest heaving with the deep breaths she was pulling in. She lifted her hand, and gazed at it for a long minute. What she saw was not the thin, ragged claw like appendage with nearly translucent skin. She was looking at a normal, healthy looking hand. Even the arm was one full of healthy vigor. The sheets flew back, revealing a body clad in a white nightgown, but the shape was not the rail thin, almost skeletal form she last remembered seeing. She quickly got out of her bed, going to the mirror, ignorant of the lack of pain she was suffering.

The woman before the mirror was one she had last seen three years before she began to die. Luxurious waves of brown hair cascaded down behind her shoulders. Her face was glowing, rounded and soft as opposed to the long, drawn, sunken eyed thing with pallid skin and lifeless hair that just managed to hang from her head. Even her teeth were normal. She spun around in joy, laughing at the miracle that somehow befell her.

She grabbed a read shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders as she raced out of the room. With a slight pause, she ran down the hall, heading for a door that would lead her outside.

She entered a world she had almost forgotten. The path the door led to was flanked by trees that were fully prepared for the winter to come. But even looking at the leafless boughs couldn't take away her joy. If anything, it seemed to add to it. She slowly walked, enjoying the feel of the cool stone paving beneath her bare feet, along with the soft, brittle feel of the fallen leaves. The coolness of the air started to bite a little, causing her to laugh, hearing her mother's voice echoing from her childhood about "dressing warmly".

Lost in the sheer joy of the walk, Elizabeth stopped and looked on in awe of the small lake the path meandered beside. The beauty of the reflections of the trees on the still pane of water called to her soul. She found a place to sit, resting against one of the trees, soaking up the sight.

Her heart had laboured hard to get her to that spot. The effort put in caused it to pump more forcefully, raising her blood pressure to dangerous levels. She felt a dull pain in her chest where the the gas exchange occurred in her lungs, the thin membranes straining under the pressure. But it was a blood vessel near her cerebral cortex that gave way. It literally exploded under the pressure, releasing blood that rapidly compressed the brain against her skull. Her head drifted back against the tree, her full lips locked into a glorious smile that she carried away to eternity.


Adrian rested against the bed that had been Elizabeth's constant place of rest for the past 18 months. His body trembled continually from the aftermath of his efforts. He knew that maintaining the two spells was not a good idea, and he was paying for his decision. He heard Sandra shuffle into the room, as well as her gasp as he saw what had befallen him.

"Why, Adrian? Why did you do that... for her?"

"Because," Adrian stammered, "if she died as you wanted, she would have carried her wounds into the next life, which would have made her life worse. This way, she carries only scars. Her life will be harder because of the scars, but not as bad if they hadn't healed."

"How did you know?"

"She suffered more than just physically form her illness. She needed to take happy thoughts away with her. So I gave them to her."

"But was it worth... that?"

Adrian took a look at the mirror once more. He was still disturbed at the sight of himself. The backlash of the spells turned his skin and muscles transparent. The blood vessels, nerve fibres and occasionally even the bones were all visible as if he was some animatronic model. Luckily, his clothing hid his major organs, but seeing his eyeballs rolling around in their sockets was unsettling.

He turned back to face Sandra. "Yes, it was worth everything I suffered."

Sandra walked over, and slapped his face hard. "You fucking cunt, Adrian. Don't you ever, EVER, fuck with my mind again. You do, and I will grant you the Good Death so quickly you wont realize it's happened until you awaken the next time round. Using what we did... back when we were... that was a disgusting thing to do."

He could smell the aroma of her arousal, and he knew how deeply he hurt Sandra by making her relive those scenes he placed in her head. He never knew that she was still deeply attracted to him. But even with the foreknowledge, he would have done the same.

"Come on, you fucking old pervert. You need to get home so this can wear off and you can stop scaring people. Like me."

"Before you do, get a wheelchair down by Elizabeth's body. Make it look like someone took her out for a trip outside, and left her somewhere nice to pass away."

"OK. We don't want a major panic here, do we?"

"Yes, only a minor one. Thanks."

 

[marauder13]

Well, it's been a while, so I updated the lists of active posts, and inactive ones, to properly reflect which is which.

Hopefully, my life will settle down enough again to resume my writing at a better pace for my partners and readers.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's April - May 2012 Writing challenge.

Flight​

Snowflakes drifted on the air as they made their lethargic drop to the blanketed ground below. The soft white covering remained mostly level, except for the slight dips as it approached the trunks of the trees that caught most of the falling flakes of ice. Little air moved between the behemoths that stood fast against the onslaught of the seasons, defiantly continuing to grow and somewhat mock the snows attempt to dominate the area completely.

Through this pristine environment crashed an intruder. His fur boots punched gaping holes in the surface of the snow as he ran with great lifting strides. What little of his bronze coloured face was darkened from the exertion. The remainder of it was lost behind a layer of ice that covered the lower part of his face. Of the rest of him, skins of other animals were sewn about him, keeping the cold from the rest of him.

He stumbled, crashing into the snow and almost being swallowed by it. He scrambled to his feet, looking behind him with fear. Huge clouds billowed in front of his face, obscuring his vision and making the ice shelf on his face grow a little more. He hastily groped for his spear before trying to make up for lost time. His feet cleared the snow's surface with each of his strides through the trees that hindered him more than helped.

When he broke cover, his heart sank. Before him was a large body of water, untouched by the frosts that claimed the land. His head rolled back, his face skyward and his eyes closed. Only the continued plumes of cloudy white from his mouth showed he lived. His head moved forward, only stopping when his chin reached his chest. He took a few steps forward until he reached the very edge of the water. He paused, looking at the thing that would be the cause of his death.

Slowly, he knelt, dropping his covered hands to each side of his knees, lowering his mouth to the water. The first sip was colder than anything he had ever felt before, but it brought him back to full wakefulness. Ignoring the biting chill, he drank deeply. No other drink tasted so good as that one did. When he stopped, his stomach felt like a ball of ice.

He stood up, and took a couple of steps away from the water. He looked at the trees nearby, hoping that there would be branches he could use to get away from them. But as with all the other trees, there was nothing within his reach. Fear clutched his belly tight. His heart began to race. He took the spear in both hands, and waited for them to arrive, and finish what they started.


Noses swept from side to side, ears turned to every slightest sound. Together they moved as if linked by one mind. Their prey was close; his scent was getting stronger. The wind shifted, and as one, they knew. The leader picked up his pace slightly. The rest followed, fanning out further to prevent him from escaping. They saw him before they left the trees, standing, waiting, ready to fight.

The leader paused. He assessed the one they had chased for the last hour. This prey had teeth too. Strange teeth that bit far from the mouth. They could not get behind him. There would be a fight. Some would die before he died. They needed food. The whelps need food, as did the bitches in the den.

A soft yip declared the commencement of the end of the hunt.


He watched as the pack broke cover. Three charged in, while the others approached slower. There was no time to think as the first wolf leapt at him. He used the butt of the spear to push the wolf away, ducking his head from the snapping jaws. With a grunt, he sent the wolf over him and into the water behind. While it was not a kill he needed, the wolf was as good as dead once he was out of the water.

A second wolf made the most of the chance, and bit his leg. The spear was angled almost perfectly for the strike that drove through the bottom of the neck, deep into the chest. Wolf's blood mixed with his own as the dying animal pulled itself free. The third wolf that charged him paused for the slightest moment before continuing, only to find a fur covered foot wildly lashing out to smack into the side of it's snout.

The cold burrowed through the mix of blood to add its own bite to the wounded man. His leg was still good, but he felt the steady flow of warmth trickling down his leg. Hope sparked a new. If he proved too much of a danger, they would leave him, and he would bind his wound and live.

He feinted to one side, charging a couple of the wolves. As he hoped, those on the other side raced in to get him from his exposed rear. He turned in time to slash the flank of one wolf. It filled the air with a pained yelp but pulled away quickly. It was hurt, little else.

But as he turned to deal with those that raced to get him, the ones he charged charged him. They made no sounds and he felt the powerful jaws clamp on his lower leg. He screamed with pain as another went for his arm. He brushed it aside but another took his other arm, holding it tight. He stabbed it with the spear as he felt more teeth gripping his other leg. He fell under their weight. The rest of the pack rushed in, and his pain was short before he felt no more.

 

[marauder13]

Another piece of my writing

This was originally posted in Britwitch's November 2012 Writing challenge.

Anniversary​

If anyone who knew Sandra saw her as she left her small home, they would have done a double take. Gone was her Gothic chick wear, and in it's place she wore a dress of pure white. Only her dark eyes and her raven hair stood out from her otherwise pale appearance.

She walked through the snow, barely acknowledging the fluttering touch of the slivers of ice that drifted onto her skin. She didn't look around her as she walked toward her destination. Each passing step saw her expression shift, becoming more absent the further she got from home.

The trees that flanked her path were tall, stark and barren. Each of them looked vicious, resentful of the mobility she possessed, as well as the life that glowed within her. They slept, bitterly, through the icy night of the year long day. But she didn't look at them for the memories they would bring; memories she wanted to forget, but could never bring herself to remove.

Her eyes welled with salty water when she reached the edge of the frozen lake. She absently pooled all the saliva in her mouth, swallowing loudly as she closed her eyes.

It was the same every year. She stood at the lakes edge, pondering the value of taking the steps out over the hardened skin of the lake's body. Her heart slowed but hammered in her chest. Everything slowed down as the first memories started to flood back.

"This is not your time, child."

Sandra turned to look at the source of the voice. A thin, cadaverous man wearing a plain black suit that hung from his shoulders and hips stared at her with his night like sunken eyes. His elongated body look painfully stretched, and could be easily broken as if it were a twig.

"Fuck off. It's not your job to decide these things."

The smile that returned was thin, bloodless and carried no warmth at all.

"Correct. But I have seen what will happen, and you wont be dying just yet. Well, not permanently."

"You bring me back, and I'll fucking kill you before I do myself again."

"Go ahead, child. I'll be waiting here for when you get back."

Sandra took a step out onto the ice, heading out to the spot where she came the year before. One day each year, she wore white. One day each year, she returned to that place. One day each year, she recalled everything she dearly wanted to forget. One day, each year, she was reminded why she couldn't forget.

Sandra's lungs exploded, expelling the dark, brackish water all over the ashen, lifeless soil. She screamed in pain and anguish, curling up into a ball as her body fought to cleanse itself of the muck that invaded her.

"As was shown, you have died and have returned. I have not touched you, Sandra Roschild. Your soul knew it was not your time, but your death was necessary for you to continue living."

Shivering, she turned her head enough to glare at him, her mind screaming of his madness.

"No, Sandra, I am not mad, just more knowledgeable of where your life has turned. You have been gifted, as I was gifted, and you shall take your gift and make the world a better place."

'Yes,' she thought, 'he's completely fucking nuts.'

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought of the time she spent with Pyotr, her master and teacher of the ways of the Euthanatoi. He was distant, objective, calm to the point of being cold. At first, that is how she saw him. But the more she got to know him, and and learn from him, the more she came to see the real him. The depth of his compassion and love for people amazed her. She drew more from his ways than either realized, becoming a person who loved others more after her death.

"She suffers greatly, Master. That suffering is polluting her soul."

Pyotr's eyes turned to hers. She saw the light within them, but this time there was something different to them. Something that sent shivers down her spine instead of the warmth she normally felt.

"Yes. Give her the Good Death, so her soul will be freed and able to return to the Wheel without the blight is carries now."

Sandra laid a hand on the woman's forehead, stroking her brow with a gentle hand. The soft whisper of power that passed from the hale to the dying was enough to make the weakened blood vessel within the woman's brain to rupture and kill her painlessly and quickly. Sandra closed her eyes, willing the departing soul the passage that would allow it to heal, and return afresh to the Wheel.

"Good, Sandra. Another step closer to righting the motion of the Wheel. Mourn every death equally, never put one greater than another. Each one we free is one that removes a burden form the Wheel, making the world a better place in the long run."

"Yes, Master."

She paused at the spot. Her body shook for a minute while she brought it under control. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks, but she let no other sign of her pain and anguish show. She didn't when it happened, she wouldn't then either. She raised her hand, fingers curled as if holding something. As she willed it, a fresh apple came into being in her hand, filling the space perfectly. She slowly sank to the ice, bringing the apple to her cheek.

"Master, it is wrong! It is not our way!"

"You are wrong, my disciple. It must be done. There are too many to remove one at a time. They must be removed as quickly as possible, and set free before the Wheel is damaged to greatly and all is lost."

"But Master! How does it help the Wheel to take those that are not upsetting the rotation? What if we remove one that is actually keeping the balance?"

"Enough! I will not have you question my judgement again. You have little understanding of the flow of Fate, and the turning of the Wheel. Your understanding is less than mine. Yours is the knowledge of a child compared to the wisdom of an Elder."

She saw the light again in his eyes. The fire there was out of control, burning blue where it had once burned white. Deep in her gut, in her soul, she felt a fear that surpassed any that she had ever known before. She opened her eyes to him, seeing his soul and his fate as best she could. he sensed it, slamming her extrasensory sight black, as if he put a hand over her eyes.

"How dare you violate my sanctity with your pitiful powers and talents. Your actions once more question my decision and I will not allow it. You will obey your Master or you will be set free."

Sandra dropped to her knees, her hands touching his suit legs, imploring him with every fibre of her being. "Forgive me, Master. I am scared and frightened, mostly for you. I... see that your fate will take you to places where you will not return, and great wrongs will be wrought."

"That is because you have not the wisdom that I have, and cannot see the subtle thread that the fates have shown me." He smiled to her, as he had every time she felt nervous or scared and sought his reassurance. He took an apple from his jacket, handing it to her. "Calm your nerves, my disciple. Eat and let the food settle your stomach, and soothe your nerves."

Sandra looked at the apple in her hand, bringing the shining skin to her lips, kissing it tenderly. The tears flowed freely, wetting her cheeks before the cold ripped away what little warmth was there, leaving a icy trail on her skin. She pulled the fruit away a little, then lunged to take a large, terrible bite from it.

Under his close scrutiny, she took the apple, bringing it to her lips. She knew in her heart what would happen. One bite would flood her body with a toxin that would kill her before her teeth were embedded in the flesh underneath. He cared only for death, good or not. He was no longer an agent of mercy, but an angel of death.

She worked swiftly. Her mind was split in two, one part showing her normal thoughts while the other worked behind the flimsy shield preparing for her one chance of saving those who were not destined to die.

She felt him touch her mind, sensing her facade as she prepared the other effects she needed. But he sensed her deception, mustering his strength and brushing aside the facade and exposing her true intentions.

As as he did, she retaliated. She used the same talent he was using to flood his mind with a cloud of random thoughts. It would do little to stop him, but the time he spent focused on removing her efforts, she would make her main assault.

She snapped a large chunk of the apple with a vicious bite. Pooling every talent he had taught her, she sent the toxins from her body to his, planting them in the weakest parts of his body. Pyotr howled in terrible pain, even as Sandra was wracked with the same pain from what she was unable to rid her self of. Again, he turned his considerable power to countering the toxins she arcanely placed within him. She scrambled from him, desperately trying to think of what else she could use to stop him.

Together they slid on the ice of the lake, both of them struck low by the toxins Pyotr had placed in the apple to kill his student. He snarled as he unleashed the entropy they both controlled to weaken the ice beneath her. It groaned ominously around her as she looked back at her Master. He laughed at the fear that shone in her eyes, pulling himself up to his full impressive height.

"This is why I am the Master, and you are merely a Disciple, little more than a student. You will take the lesson of your treachery to the next turning of the Wheel."

Sandra looked at him, remembering one of his earliest lessons. 'We are the cartographers of Chaos, Sandra. We see the flows of Entropy, gain wisdom from them and use it to guide us. We are most feared in a fight, because we can easily see the enemy's weaknesses, and use that knowledge to strike them and bring them low.' She looked at him, opening her eyes again to the entropic flows about him. His Mastery of them made it harder to see what she needed to see, but she trusted in the guidance of the chaos to show her the right place.

The long sliver of metal designed to be thrown and hit precise points slipped into her hand. Her wrist flicked just so, sending the point toward him. The chaos about him indeed guided the path, and the point sailed up through a nostril, bouncing just the right way off the bones to finally tear through his brain.

Sandra wept openly. Her sobbing sent fragments of apple flying about her. The pain she felt taking her beloved Master's life tore through her fresh, again as it had every time she came to that place. Her hand swept aide the new layer of snow, her command of the flows of entropy making the frosted surface clear as glass. She could see, clearly, the earthly remains of her Master at rest in the very place were he fell eight years before.

Her chest was heaving after her crying passed. The apple dropped, Sandra hooked her raven hair behind her ears, still looking at what remained of her Master.

"You promised me that I would learn all I needed to know of our kind from you, Pyotr. I thought you meant those who had the same talents as we have. But it was about those like us. Those that helped the Wheel turn. Up to the very end, I learned so much from you. I know how seductive Death is, because of you. I learned I was a cold blooded killer like you... if I forgot who I was."

She picked up the apple and held it before her eyes, watching the juice turn to crystals on the exposed flesh of the fruit. "But only now, Pyotr, have I realized that there was one lesson that I forgot, because of your treachery... your hubris... your simple human weakness. I have not mourned you like I have mourned every other I have given the Good Death to."

She bowed her head, pressing her eyelids together to rid herself of the last of the tears caught within. "I have shed my last tears for you, Master Pyotr. I did what I needed to do to protect the Wheel from you. The moment I took your life from you, I loved you more than anyone else I knew. I love you now, for who you were for me. I do what is needed, the way it should be done. Fare well, Master. I know you will return to the wheel, with the wisdom gained from your last time upon it, and you will aid in the turning of it once more."

The apple dropped form her fingers as she stood up. She took one look down under the ice before turning and walking back to her home. Sandra decided that the dress would never be worn again, and no more trips would be made to the spot, as they were no longer needed.

On the cleared ice, a spectral form appeared. A tall, thin man in an ill fitting dark suit gazed at Sandra's retreating form. One arm extended to her, in beckoning. The cadaverous face looked immensely sad, pained as she disappeared from its sight. The head drooped for a few seconds before it returned to a posture of pride and determination. A smile of warmth lit up the face as it faded, finally released from its earthly prison and journeyed to the ready itself for its next cycle upon the Wheel.

 

[Eldan01]

Better late then never?

Another Idea, of sorts.

I am a fan of the original White Wolf Role Playing Game Mage: The Ascension. It covers a lot of material that I am drawn to on a personal level, as well a giving my imagination the chance to run wild. Of course, the ability to bend reality into a pretzel shape and not have my character's brains sprayed all over the nearest wall is also fun too. If I manage to pull it off, of course.

Traditions, Technocrats, Nephandi and Marauders ( no, I got the marauder handle about a decade before this game was first published ) all doing what they feel is best for the world, regardless of what the world thinks.

Occult, monsters, Hyper-Technology, weird science, conspiracies and a war over how people think.

One day, with the right person, there would be much fun to be had.

As you can see from the left (my profile) I'm new around here and have been poking through threads to see where I can land. Your post here from...oh WAY BACK when...is very interesting to me. I have a lot of the White Wolf books and a long time ago played one game of Mage...it would be interesting to have a reason to pick that book up again and remember what it's all about. Just a thought to throw your crazy busy way.

SUPER impressed with all your threads, how do you have time for everything else in life?

 

[monique_minx]

Well, it has finally happened. My thread list has grown to the point where I can't list them all in my sig file as I have been.

So, here is the abbreviated list of the threads I am involved in. I'll be adding posts later to explain them a little more. They are listed in no particular order.


Surrender to the Legions with YoungLisa
Byzantium's Bane with DarkEmpress
Along the Path Yet Revealed with Britwitch
Nothing Like Old Times with Britwitch
The Lure of Darkness with MsAphrodite
MY will be done. with MsAphrodite
Periclitatio Serva with MsAphrodite
The Bull with Britwitch
Royal Machinations with wideeyedone
The Hunt with TieMeTightly
Widdershins 'Round the Fae Fire with Luna_Wolf72
Magic's Reluctant Bride with AngelofDeath
When In Rome with heartofcourage
They Came, They Saw, They Didn't Conquer with heartofcourage
An Unexpected Journey. with DarkWarrioress
A Debt Paid with RainingHeat
Prey with PollySays
Lover of Antiquity with AngelofDeath
Teaching Emily with lonelycollegegirl
Yesterdays and Tomorrows with Mephistophelily
We Came in Peace, For All Mankind with ScifiFangirl
For the Greater Good with EuphoricDysphoria

Group Threads

Inactive Threads can be found here

*Pokes the bear*

This needs editing now

*Winks and smirks*

Did I mention that I love being a pain in your ass? Also, I have all the free time now that you're the one owing a post

*Sniggers*