• Feb. 16, 2008
Psych Teaser
Listening to the blaring music through two white ear-pieces seemed to have been her only solace. With the hot sun beating down on her, and the large crowds of irritable adults and irresponsible children running around, nothing seemed better than trudging down the streets of
Trying her best to maneuver between thick groups of barely clothed teenagers, she frowned slightly-feeling her shoulders tighten and her arms sink deeply into her pant pockets. The free-spirited, flesh-revealing wardrobe of
“Watch it!” She grumbled, glaring angrily through wide, thick ebony shades that hid away her brown eyes. The young skater snorted and kicked off, sliding in-between a few teenage girls, who, after nearly being pounced to the ground, just giggled and admired the reckless behavior. She sighed, throwing a few straight strands of dark brown hair behind her pierced ears.
She was pretty casual. As always. Plain Jane. An Ugly Betty of sorts…
Still, she rarely complained. She liked the way she looked, liked who she was, how she acted, and admired her solid perspective on life. Sure, past hardships had made her a little rough around the edges, but overall, she felt better prepared. She, at least, could take care of herself. Even if she was living off of only what was in her pocket, possibly fifty, sixty dollars at the most.
This led to why exactly she was out and about on a Wednesday afternoon. She was job searching. Why? Well, let’s just say her previous job was far less than satisfactory. Within a few months of working, things between co-workers unraveled, and blame was placed wrongfully. Still, what was an out-of-towner, a less-than-fortunate to do? She was left with nothing but her last paycheck and a few weeks to find herself a new job. Unsuccessfully, Loren Kay Turrick spent yesterday, as well as all morning searching
It wasn’t until mid afternoon, as she passed a few buildings near the beach, when she stopped for a moment. Spotting a bench, Lore took the opportunity to claim it before any passer-bys could. Sitting down, Lore crossed her long legs casually (more like a man, really) and stretched out her arms. At least the scenery was nice. The smell of the ocean filled her nostrils with an intoxicating fantasy of diving into the ocean. Cooling off would be nice. Still, she didn’t have time, or attire for that sort of adventure. She was busy searching for her future-something, anything that could save her from sleeping in the streets. Again.
And then she saw it.
Like a flash of light purposefully manipulated to blur her vision, Lore looked up, and to her right. There, sitting snuggly in between a few smaller buildings was her golden opportunity. Her golden ticket flickered on a rectangular window with blue, bubbly words taunting her. Well, technically the taunting words were below on a poorly calligrapher piece of printer paper taped to the window. Still, it was the thought that would count.
Standing up, Lore barely noticed herself take several weak steps forward. Her eyes curiously etched the logo, her lips curving into a rather disbelieving smile.
“Psych…?” She almost laughed. Only shaking her head slightly, she couldn’t believe what she was reading. Below the Psych Private Detective Agency logo, Lore glanced back at the hiring sign: “NOW HIRING. DESPERATLY.”
“You have to be kidding me…” She groaned, biting her lower lip as she pressed forward, stopping at the building door. “Did you have to hit me in the face THAT badly?” She glanced up, peering into the sky, no, past it really. Shrugging, Loren opened it, and glanced at the building hallway. It was a rented space, connected with a few other small spaces-other small businesses and whatnot. She glanced at the benches in the hallway, peered at the doors, and stopped at the intended door. The door to the Psych office.
She thought about knocking, but she felt herself hesitate. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d rather wash dogs for minimum wage rather than participate in Psychic mumbo-jumbo, or, perhaps it was the small, indistinct voices from inside. She didn’t knock. Not yet anyway.
“Gus, come on! Just once? Seriously man, you’re being such a party pooper!” Lore arched a brow. The masculine voice pleaded in good humor.
“No, Shawn! Forget it!” bellowed a second voice. “I am NOT being a tool for your stupid antics!” The first voice scoffed, replying rather defensively.
“Antics? What? We back at the Spelling Bee again? GUS! Stop with the big words, man. You’re scarring me…And every female in the
Loren couldn’t help but chuckle. Covering her mouth nervously, she kept her eyes glued to the ground, and her ears fiercely alert. Last thing she wanted was to be labeled as a eavesdropper. She didn’t like being a Sam Gamgee in a situation, even though she was pretty sure their current conversation wouldn’t lead toward an evil ring, and a world-dominating evil. Still, the thought was discomforting.
“Well, you know what Shawn, some of us ACTUALLY studied in school! Unlike you, who spent your time picking at Gregory’s rat-tail, and writing notes to Susie Creston, some of us actually took our educational courses seriously!” This time the first voice just laughed, mockingly. “That’s dumb, Gus. You were so diggin’ Cassie’s chili! And you can’t deny it. But hey,” He paused, sighing theatrically, “No one blames you. She was a cutie…even with her weird, piggish nose…”
“Don’t even go there, Shawn. Just don’t even go…”
“Oh, but I am already there. So there.”
“Shut up, Shawn!”
Immaturity. That was clearly a word to describe it. Though, from the looks of it, Loren would have said it was an understatement. Walking in, Loren glanced at the two full-grown men, tackling each other over one of the desks that occupied the small business space. With hands ripping at hair, grabbing at collars, and feet shoving into each other, it was truly a juvenile scene, though entertaining. Loren, however, arched a brow.
The men had stopped almost instantly, freezing in their awkward positions. The look on their faces made Loren feel slightly uncomfortable. However, she stood tall and professional, hoping to be able to buy off the ‘well, I did knock’ excuse.
“The door was open…”
They just blinked.
“I did knock….twice, actually.”
The two turned their heads, facing each other, nodding lightly before separating at least a two steps apart. The ebony skinned man, clad in a lavender shirt and black slacks, was rubbing out wrinkles in his shirt, while the other, less professional looking man, cleared his throat loudly and scratched his chin mindlessly.
“Right….well, can we help you?” The professional asked, taking a seat calmly at his desk.
“Um,” Loren began, stepping in slowly, shutting the door behind her. Why was she freezing up? She rarely felt this way. Sure, she had a hatred for most people, and disliked groups, but she normally didn’t feel too intimidated by them, especially when it was two men unable to grow up.
“I’m here…for an application.”
((Okay, so, this is just the teaser idea thingy. But, I'm not sure if I like it. It's just to help you get an idea about it...until I figure out exactly what I'll do, and whether or not I want this POV or not. I may do it first person. We'll see. I'm better at that stuff.))
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• Jan. 12, 2008
Chapter One for Emsley
Disclaimer: I still don’t own anything, and never will…but my OCs…Sybila being included.
Chapter One:
We never forget the things we want, people we hate, or loved ones we loose. Somehow, we are burned with an everlasting memory-something we’re forced to remember forever. Whether we want to or not.
I could see her standing there, barely leaning over to catch a final glimpse of her sister-in-law. The pain in her eyes could barely match the throbbing that swelled inside me. It wasn’t fair. Not for her, and certainly not for me.
I continued to watch her from the corner of my eye. She was trying to stand tall, but would fail occasionally, letting herself lean into me; her shoulder touching mine. Her thin framed body shivered violently, mostly due to the vigorous sobbing that she so desperately tried to hold inside.
Her sniffling and sobbing seemed to echo loudly throughout my ears, allowing the aching in my head to thrash even harder.
“We come here, on the twenty-seventh of April, two-thousand and 6, to pray that our beloved Sybila Howe will never be forgotten.” Jonathan Wilson, our local priest, calmly began the sermon and eulogy. As he spoke, his old, aged voice felt like hot acid spiting in my stomach.
I was beginning to feel nauseous. I was beginning to hate him. To hate everyone, even.
Why?
Because no one knew how I felt. No one could feel the real, true anguish that planted itself into my soul. For the first time in years, I felt completely empty. I was alone. Very, very alone.
“We all nearly knew her from way back when she was but a child-running around the church in her brightly colored dresses. Her spirit was so beautiful and so caring…” As he went on, I knew it was becoming more and more unbearable. Even my sister knew it.
Gently, she placed her fingers on top of my palm, hesitating when the cold from my skin touched hers. I glanced over at her-gazing into her black rimmed eyes. Her mascara had streamed down her paling face. She looked miserable, as was I.
She felt my pain. She always did.
For a brief moment, I felt her hand lift to my cheek. Quickly she wiped away a chilling tear that managed to pry its way from my tensed eyes. No words could ever describe how pathetic I truly felt. Nothing could compare. Nothing, I felt, could understand.
I hated him.
However, I also hated to admit that I was selfish. God, however, knew otherwise. I had found that my selfishness had increased dangerously over the past weeks. All of my family, those still willing to come together, could easily see how drastically I had changed.
But who were they to judge?
Their wife wasn’t taken away…
Their child’s mother was stolen from them.
“Her life was tragically taken from us. God only knows why, and we, as his children, can only know that it was for a reason. Though her death was from evil hands, her soul was never touched. Her soul shall rest in peace.”
When the priest had lessened in words, many of the family and friends who attended the funeral began to weep. I could hear them. All of them!
Each and every sniffle and cough throbbed madly-making me far more uneasy than I had ever been. I felt a cold, clammy sweat slide down my face. I hadn’t noticed the uneasy breaths I had been taking until a small voice from behind had asked me if I was alright.
“You’ve been rocking back and forth, son. You sure you can stand?”
I nodded furiously, just hoping he’d shut up. He did, rather hastily too. My sister, however, didn’t.
“Ian, you look awful,” she whispered in-between inhauls. “You should go take a moment….get a breather, yea?” She nodded lightly, looking up to me. Her green eyes glinted with pouring tears, desperately tried to win me over.
I didn’t budge.
I wasn’t leaving her side.
I couldn’t.
“I’m fine. Got it? Everyone! Please….I am fine!”
I hadn’t noticed how loud I had yelled. Nearly everyone fell back a few steps though, so I was quickly reminded that my tone had breeched past a decent limit. Turning away, they tried to pretend my outburst didn’t happen. They all glanced down at her coffin. It was white and looked porcelain. Like her skin.
But she was dead.
My Sybila was dead…
I would make Beckered pay. With every last ounce in me…he would pay. Somehow, somewhere…that man would never terrorize my family again. Never.
Never.
“Never…”
“You never pay attention when I’m tellin’ you a story!”
With a quick shove of the shoulder, Ian felt his body slide low against the dirty table top. Heavily taking in a breath, the man glanced up.
“Finally. Sheesh! Thought you were in some psycho comma, man!” Brad laughed, sending the few others at the criminal table laughing as well.
Ian, however, was not amused.
The look on his face, and the thin glare in his eyes only explained his lack of interest in the group he was forced to sit with. What a bunch of lousy criminals, he thought, smirking lightly.
“Ah, c’mon man, you never pay attention. You’re like…the only guy here who DOESN’T know the story of how I nearly lost my hand in an alley fight!” He went on, poorly bragging, as if he were some silly child in a high school.
Ian Howe barely paid any more attention to the story from what he had before. His eyes were drowsily gazing at the plain white and grey walls of the prison, occasionally glancing up at the guards who paced up and down the wide aisles between the lunch tables.
He admired them, somewhat, and hated them even more.
For the past six months he had been stuck in the pit of despair, a prison in
What Ian felt was truly disappointing was the fact that he was separated from Powell and Viktor. They were left in D.C. Lucky them.
“So then he sent his knife right at my face! But I was like a cat, man! An alley cat! I spun around and kicked him where the sun don’t shine!”
The constant laughter and cheers form the table only rotted Ian’s stomach. He felt like he was stuck with the most juvenile prisoners ever. It was starting to become unbearable.
“You know what,” Ian finally added, turning his head slightly, “No one cares if you ALMOST lost your hand. No one cares if you CROUCHED like a ninja cat. No one cares. No one ever will.”
The group fell daftly quiet. Ian grinned. Finally, peace and quiet. At least he could hear his thoughts now, even though he had to admit, the recent thoughts weren’t quite pretty either. The images of Sybila, dead and in the coffin only irritated him further.
“Well,” Brad continued, followed by all of the men’s stares, “At least I get some action! You got stuck in here for breaking into a dumb old church, and some other crap…or something….” They laughed.
Ian felt his neck and cheeks burn with fury-perhaps even a little embarrassment.
Quickly, Ian rose from his seat, pounding his foot onto the bench and leaned over, grabbing Brad’s jumpsuit collar. Their gasps only brightened his pride. Good, he thought. I have their attention.
He pulled him closer, tightening his grasp, making it harder and harder for Brad to push away.
“You think it’s funny when you open your big mouth, don’t you? Yeah, you do. Well, I’ve got a surprising reality check for you, pal. It’s not. And if I hear another bloody word escape from your rotting mouth, I’ll punch your nose in. Alright?”
Brad just narrowed his eyes, huffing and puffing. Ian figured he was trying to hide his shivering. Nothing worse than looking like a wuss when you were stuck in prison; mixed with a group of criminals.
“And for the record…” he added, “You should do your research before accusing a criminal of his crime. You might make me angry.”
“Yeah?” Brad dared, still glaring-even if his face was sweating profusely. “You ain’t so tough. Not without a gun anyway,” he chuckled nervously, starting a dangerous fire.
“I don’t need a gun to kill someone,” Ian ventured further as well. Brad’s breathing rapidly increased.
“You wouldn’t dare. Not me. No-I’m the only friend you got in this joint!” He mocked.
“Friend? What makes you think we are friends? I don’t need friends, Bradley Wade…and if I did? I would have no problem shooting them, then leaving them in a deep, dark, dank tunnel. Interested in being my Friend now, Bradley?”
Ian had pulled him closer. Although he felt a bitter empowerment flood through his shackled appearance, he did regret using a mistake as part of a threat. Remembering Riley’s face only placed a heavier weight on his worn shoulders.
“Set him down. That’s an order!”
Ian released Brad quickly. The teaser in the officer’s hands didn’t look to friendly, but showed incredible desire to spark someone. Nodding to an agreement, Ian backed away from the table, feeling the officer place a firm, merciless hand against his shoulder, dragging him away from the lunch tables.
“You can skip lunch for one day, Mr. Howe,” He said, and pushed him through the cafeteria doors, then heading through the halls.
“What a freak….”
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• Jan. 10, 2008
Prologue for Emsley
The Prologue:
“This is it? We came all this way for a dead end?”
He lied to me. Again. It shouldn’t have surprised me though. For as long as I had known Benjamin, which was somewhere between one to two years, I should have learned the accustomed lies that came as part of the Gates family package.
He usually didn’t straight out lie to me, but somehow he bent the truth-or fooled me in ways that rotted my stomach when I finally found the truth. He was the most difficult man I had ever known, and yet the most intriguing. He was truly a capable friend-but friends never lasted forever. Not with me.
“There has to be something more!” Riley Poole blurted, his voice a bit choked. Ben just gazed at him, anger writhing on his greased face. He and I both shared that expression-it was one explicitly given to Riley, and usually meant one thing: shut up.
“Riley, there is no more…” Ben admitted, rubbing his hands across his forehead, as if trying to ease himself from the disappointment that oozed from his eyes. Even after Ben had told the infantile tag-along that the dead end hit us hard, he still kept talking.
“Another clue,”
“No! Riley, there are no more clues! That’s it. It’s over. End of the road. The treasure is gone! All gone! Now stop being so impossible!”
I had never seen Ben explode in such a way. Not at me, or his father, or even Riley. It surprised me to see his outburst, but it also was amusing to see the kiss-up finally confronted. Tears looked like they were forming in his brilliant blue eyes.
The whole time that I stood on the elevator lift, Powell and Viktor stayed right behind me. I could hear their heavy, exhausted breathing from behind me, only thicken my temper. I gazed over at Ben. He was rushing forward, Miss Chase as well as his father were right behind him-but Riley, he just took his time. He was still gazing at a loss in the empty room. Clearly he saw the same disappointment that I saw. Another false assumption made by Benjamin Gates.
By this time, I was quite tired of hearing Riley whine and complain, and was certainly through with the hellish glares that Miss Chase fixed upon me. Ben was covering up. It was obvious-and I was through with his games.
It didn’t surprise me that he’d hide a clue from me-after all; I had already driven several others from him already, forcibly. Still, we were so close, and yet I could feel his mouth clenching tightly around the next clue.
“Tell me where the next clue is,” Finally I managed a word in between the riot that Ben and his clash of pathetic fools were causing.
“I know there is another one. You’re hiding it from me, aren’t you?”
Ben’s eyes fell.
I knew it! Once a liar, always a liar. I knew that personally from experience.
“Come on Benjamin, tell me where it is,” I continued. Viktor and Powell grunted and managed a wail in determination. Their hope to emphasize my threat only made me feel less and less professional. I didn’t need a bunch of men to be my goons. I needed my friends. Men who understood me. Men who could help me…
Ben, unfortunately, was not one of those friends. He could never know me the way Shaw did. No one could ever get that close. My methods, my reasoning, my loves and hates-everything I had confided in Shaw. The one person I needed was gone. The only other person I could count on was facing me, on the other side of the line.
“Ben, tell me!”
My patience was running out. He was being stubborn, and that sort of thing ended with people getting hurt.
“No, there is nothing more! I swear!”
“Fine then. Go!”
Quickly Viktor and Powell began to untie the ropes that fastened the elevator lift in place. I watched them with a small smirk, expecting them to come rushing for me. They did.
“Don’t do this, Ian!” Ben roared, fixing a stern expression on his dirt-worn face. His brown hair was messily sticking about. Honestly, he seemed quite pathetic. That was how I knew for sure that he was hiding something. When did Benjamin Franklin Gates ever present himself at a loss? Rarely, if ever.
“You can’t leave us down here!” Abigail added, tightly squeezing between Patrick and Ben. Her ocean eyes peered at me, as if she were trying to get my sympathy. I just smirked.
“Yes I can,” I replied simply, continuing to pull off the rope that held the lift in place. “Unless Ben tells me what the next clue is.”
Everyone stood in silence. Riley watched with a fixed expression that was both squished together and confused. It was quite amusing.
“I know there is another clue,” I defended myself, especially when Ben had given me the ‘you-lost-your-mind?’ sort of look. Still, the look on his face was almost convincing. It was then that I had pulled out my gun, aiming it well at Ben. His devotion and refusal to tell me the truth only made me hate him.
“Tell me the next clue!” I bellowed, locking the gun-readying for the slip of my finger, and a body to fall. I would do it…he knew that. Even though I did consider him to be a prized friend, like Shaw, I was still devoted to finding the treasure-and securing my future and no righteous fanatic was going to stand in my way.
“Let’s just put the gun down…and talk about this! We can all just get out alive and-
“Don’t speak again!” My gun narrowed its way towards Riley. His attempt to settle the matter at hand drove my fury. I was so ready to shoot. Ben knew that! So why was he letting me get so angry? Why couldn’t he just tell me the next clue? Did he want his friend’s blood stained to the floor? Perhaps he and I were equally devoted to this hunt. Even if our friend’s blood is spilt, we still go on-as if they were never there.
I didn’t pay much attention to Riley’s obedient reply because I had replaced my target back towards Ben. Sweat beaded off of his forehead. His eyes were wide, anxious, determined-pleading, perhaps? Still, I think he knew what I was feeling. I was ready for hostile action.
“Leave him alone!” Abigail roared, throwing up a fist in anger. Ben’s intervention was quick; he stole the spotlight from her before the barrel of my gun reached her way. Shoving his body in front of hers, he sternly stared back at me, his forehead back in the line of fire.
“Ian, I have nothing left to give you! I swear!”
He was such a pathetic liar. Even Riley was looking suspicious, and barely amused. I was loosing my control again. Anger, distractions-things I had under control were slowly loosening back into place. Ben’s stubborn ego and ridiculous passion for saving the treasure pissed me off. For a simple moment, I stepped off the platform, rage written all over my face. It burned too. I was quite surprised to find how uncomfortable I had become.
Placing the gun to his head, I growled angrily as I watched Abigail and Patrick slightly fall back, bumping carelessly into Riley. The boy barely nudged. His feet seemed as if they were glued to the cracking floor. His attention was focused only on Ben and the gun-occasionally shifting his wide eyes towards me. I could feel his nervous gaze burning my reddened cheeks.
“Tell me where the treasure is Ben, or people are going to die.”
Ben shook his head.
“Then you’ve ended your life, right here. Right now.”
Pulling back the trigger, it seemed like I was going in slow motion. Nothing seemed to be moving fast, and I was certainly not in a rush to shoot him. But before I even managed to fire a bullet at Benjamin, I felt my hand automatically shift towards Riley. He was talking. Again!
“Leave him alone, Ian! If he knew he’d tell you! I swear! But don’t shoot him! You’ll never get your answer if you sh—
The man never finished his words. With a thunderous roar shrieking from the barrel of my gun, and the clash of bullet against his skin, it became obvious as to what I had done.
Riley’s stood awkwardly. His shaking arms barely dared to lift towards his stomach where a stain of blood appeared. His breathing heavily increased and grew louder and forced. I looked at him, somehow shocked to see the fright in his eyes. He grew so pale so dramatically fast. Even his lips were a pale white. Although I saw the blood form around him, it did not fully register, what I had done, until a small stream of scarlet trickled out the side of his mouth.
Shivering, he recoiled and look as if he’d vomit, but was mostly gasping for air. Within a few moments, Riley stepped backwards, stumbling until finally he lost his footing, hitting the bare ground mercilessly.
I winced heavily and found myself unable to move. I did it. I shot him. I did what I told Ben I would do, but I felt a iron weight of guilt hit me.
“Riley!”
Between Abigail’s screaming, Ben’s loud yelling, and Patrick’s nervous ranting, I didn’t know what to do. The nervous shivering was starting to affect me, and I could hear Viktor and Powell mumble behind me. They too were surprised.
But why was I?
I watched them all. Ben was carefully propping Riley up against his lap, his hands cupped against his friend’s pale face. He was trying to keep him in conversation, keeping him conscious. Abigail was holding his hand while trying to contain her fear and fury. Patrick sat next to Ben. I suppose he was trying to contribute as much as he could.
“I told you to just tell me, Ben…Now look. You got your friend shot.”
My gun was pointed low, but at Ben nonetheless. For a moment, Ben kept himself composed. I had wished it would have lasted longer, but I did not blame him for otherwise either.
“I can’t believe you shot him! How could you?” He glared at me, gesturing at me with hands covered in Mister Poole’s blood. I kept a stern face.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Benjamin! I told you! I TOLD you!”
“He was your friend too!” Ben yelled, daring himself to come closer. He yielded after a moment, after realizing I still had the gun. At least I still had the advantage. Not only was I still armed, but Viktor and Powell were both watching with alertness, stepping closer too.
“Tell me what I need to know!”
This time Patrick interrupted. Stepping forward, the older man fixed his glasses, nervously speaking up.
“It’s the lantern…” He mumbled. I eyed him curiously.
“Dad, no…” Ben tried to intervene again, but Patrick vigorously shook his head.
“The status quo has changed, my son. No more blood needs to be spilt in vain. Not over this…”
I grinned satisfactorily. Finally someone who didn’t want to die had the answers. Not only was I relieved, but I had hoped Ben would be.
“It’s part of freemason teachings. In King Solomon’s temple there was a winding staircase. It signified the journey that was to be made in order to find the light of truth. The lantern is the clue.”
I arched a brow quizzically, glancing behind them, and then back at them.
“And what does it mean?” I asked, fixing my gun on Patrick.
“
“The old
Brilliantly I smiled and nodded. I believed every word from his mouth. Patrick was quite different from Ben in many ways. He was aged, so he had seen and been through many things to know when and what was enough; he was also not the type of man who wanted to die over treasure. The honesty in his eyes felt so real. I trusted him.
Powell and Viktor grinned triumphantly as well. Close behind me, the three of us quickly rushed for the lift once more. As they began to untie the ropes once more, I shook my head in pity.
“WAIT!” Ben pleaded, holding on to Riley as tightly as he could. “You have to take us with you!”
I only shook my head, grinning. Finally I would get the treasure. I would have it all-and she would be so proud. They all would. I would finally be free from the leash tied to my neck. Most importantly, however, my little girl wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone else. Never again.
“You can’t let him die down here!” Abigail and Ben pleaded, but I just let the words fade as we rose higher and higher toward the top.
I could smell victory right outside this church. And, if it led to another clue, as Ben had yelled out after me, then at least I knew where to find them.
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• Oct. 30, 2007
Don't Mess With his Fire-SNEAK PEAK
“You need help, Saxon,”
Shrugging off her advice, the Zhardian turned his back on her and tended to the fire. The smoke swirled from the crisping logs, letting the golden and blue flames tango across the singed bark.
“Ugh! You are so stubborn!” She wailed, throwing her thin arms up in dismay. Keeping her green eyes fixed on his movement, Ashby sighed exhaustedly. He never listened to her advice-never. Still, the two of them weren’t exactly friends. Their trust meters were rather low, and neither of them really wanted to become more than what they were now-competitors.
“You wanna continue to get sick? Fine. Not my problem. It’ll help me actually! It’ll ensure me a easier trip to catching Sabriel before you. So fine.” Smirking, Saxon continued to press the logs, hoping to feed the fire more and more. Right now, all he wanted was warmth, silence, and a good night’s sleep.
“Milady, if you don’t mind-I’d prefer if you kept your complaining to a minimum. I’m in no mood to play with you. I want sleep. I want warmth. I want food. My illness is only a fraction of discomfort compared to what I am use to. So please-keep your opinions to yourself.” She froze in horror. “Thank you.”
Ashby’s placid face had grown even whiter. Her emerald eyes widened, almost popping out from her sockets. Her blue lips parted, sharp teeth glinting from the firelight. Anger seemed to ooze out of every pore-only intensifying her naturally creepy appearance.
“H-how DARE you!” She bellowed, kicking snow furiously into the flames. “How dare you!!”
Saxon groaned, lowering his shoulders when the flame huddled down into a small curl. Narrowing his eyes, the great, copper man rose from his damp seat. Standing several feet above her, the Zhardian glared down upon her, a soft growl emitting from his copper lips.
“You stupid, stupid vampire!” She gawked angrily, throwing her hands onto her hips.
Saxon shook his head in disappointment and quickly threw his arms onto her shoulders, picking her up. Ashby squirmed and jerked, hissing and spitting foully continually, stopping abruptly when she was placed face to face with him.
“You have done nothing but cause me trouble, little vampire,” He began, peering into her emerald soul. “You have brought with you complaining, irritation, disturbance, distrust, annoyance, and now you have taken from me the ONE thing that I ask for. FIRE! Now… I will count to three. If you are not out of my sight by the end count, I will personally escort you OUT of my personal space. Am I clear, little vampire?”
The fierceness of his voice, and the firm, unpleasant hold of his grasp only fed her flaming rage. Still, she only took a heavy inhaule and nodded stubbornly. He nodded as well and dropped her suddenly. Ashby hit the floor with a crunching thud; snow bounced from the ground and relocated itself elsewhere. Saxon only smirked and stepped over her, returning to his poorly surviving flame.
“You selfish cow…” She mumbled, wiping wet snow from her cheeks and slowly hoisting herself up from the ground. Slowly she began to walk off, obviously taking her time-but it looked as if Saxon hadn’t been counting. He just wanted her gone. Which was fine-she was leaving anyway!
“You’ll regret this,” she added, “Especially if someone tries to attack! You’ll regret it!!”
Saxon chuckled loudly and placed a hand onto his belt-revealing a sheathed sword, several daggers, and a few other useful items.
“Trust me. I am well prepared, little vampire. I am not the one worried.”
She glared intently, but finally walked off, leaving him in peace.
((Hahah, just a little demo scene. Just some characters I randomly made up-and a little scene I did. ))
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• Oct. 1, 2007
Just a Glimpse
{Just a little something I wrote for you all. Hehehe. It holds specific importance or reference to my character, Vincent, in the role play that I am doing with Inkling, who has the whole rp so far posted on her blog! Go check it out! For Emsley. Bet you won't know if this is a past glimpse, or an idea for the future! Guess you'll have to wait and see!}
Mussetta stood near the window of their upstairs room. Her thin shoulder was pressed gently against it, supporting her for the long while she had been there. For at least thirty minutes, the woman had stood gazing out the window and into the nearing storm. Something quite uneasy had nabbed at her conscious, setting her off in her silent but watchful trance.
While the wind began to pick up, rattling the wooden windowpane gently, thunder was already becoming noticeable. The soft booming had risen from their silent graves, reaching her long, pointed ears as if the ground had suddenly shaken. The clouds were getting darker. Her mind continued to wander.
Suddenly, without another warning, a great flash of light shot out through the darkness, piercing her green eyes fiercely and catching her attention. Only seconds afterwards a great roar of thunder had been released, shaking the cottage gently, as well as stirring the infant child that lay asleep in the small crib that had been in the same room.
“Shhh! Hush now, Elaeryn-my child. Hush now. Mother is here…you shall be safe.” Mussetta quietly soothed her child by saying such words as well as placing a cool hand on the infants round face. She could smile only lightly, for moments later, her attention was drawn back towards the window-but this time, her eyes met the fields.
The tall grass was blowing madly; the wind had certainly shown no mercy upon them as it swept through. It seemed as if slowly the strands were being torn from the muddied earth, one at a time. Then, as she continued to observe the swiftly swaying fields, the cloaked figure appeared.
“No…”
The sight of the figure struck deeply inside of her. Although she did not know for sure whom this stranger was, chances were, she knew him. Quickly the woman left the room, leaning tightly against the wooden railings of the second floor staircase. Sending her green eyes in a frantic search, the eldest child was not in sight.
“Errol? Errol!” She beckoned, slamming her thin palms upon the base of the railing. The baby gently stirred once again, whining lightly as it tossed and turned in its wooden crib. Mussetta frowned lightly.
“Errol!”
“Yes mother?” Came a silent reply, piping up from the next room beside her. With a sigh of relief, Mussetta turned around to face her son, Errol, who stood in the doorway of his room in a large, over-grown tunic, and his palms rubbing his eyes gently.
“What is it mother?” He asked, rather befuddled, and quickly stepped forward.
Mussetta ran a hand through her light, copper-kissed hair as if trying to recompose herself. Still, she kept a glance at her son and tried to smile.
“He’s here…”
The expression on the twelve year old’s face was quite amusing, however, Mussetta only found it to be quite bothersome.
“Who is here, mother? Another marauder?! I can grab my sword mother, just give me a moment-
“No…no, my son. It is no marauder.”
Still he held an expression of sincere confusion. Was it lawmen, perhaps? Or unwelcomed creatures? Or perhaps some other relatives trying to pry money away from them? He shook his head in disappointment.
“Then who? Father?”
She only chuckled weakly. Turning her back on Errol, Mussetta headed down the stairs quietly, and instantly headed for the front door, eyeing the knob furiously.
“Mother? Mother! Who is it?”
“Errol!” She bellowed, while pointing past him to the baby’s room. “Go retrieve Elaeryn and go to the attic, and stay until I tell you to come out. Understand?” All Errol could do was nod, and quickly sped into his baby brother’s room.
“Elaeryn…time to wake,” He whispered, placing a cold hand on the child’s forehead. “Mother says we must hide. Now why do you think that could be?” He asked, as if expecting some sort of educated, well-thought reply from the infant. Still, Errol reached his arms down low and wrapped them underneath Elaeryn’s body-lifting him slowly.
Grunting, Errol wrapped the groaning baby in his arms and began to gently pat his back, cooing him into silence. “Come now,” He whispered, and headed out of the room once more, however, stopped right outside of the doorway.
Another voice could be heard downstairs. He wasn’t sure who it was-it seemed foreign. Perhaps an elf, Errol thought, patting Elaeryn’s back constantly. However, his mother did not seem quite so pleased to be aquainted with the fellow. Desperatly Errol wanted to get closer. He only urged for a better view! Disobeying his mother, however, would be a far worse punishment…especially if his father found out.
“Waaahhh maaa!!” Errol gasped heavily when Elaeryn’s sudden burst of excitement echoed throughout the house. He cringed when the two below silenced their conversation. He could feel his mother’s tension rise in his own, only intensifying his fear of getting in trouble…still, they were obviously acknowledged, and there was no reason not to get a bit closer and get a look.
“I-I’m sorry…” He mumbled, looking down the staircase, glancing down at his mother by the door, and the dark figure standing there. It was certainly a man, and a strange one. He was tall and thin, as well as cold and lifeless. His hair was long and swayed like the shadows-matching the color of his charcoal hair. His silver eyes glanced up at him, piercing his very soul as he gazed down. For a moment, the boy could not even move. He felt as if enchanted…or bewitched. Either way, he felt his heart skip a few beats.
“This is his son? The eldest?” The man’s thick, sooth voice broke the silence. Mussetta only nodded slowly and dropped her head low from shame.
“He looks just like him…And the baby, that must be your newest child. He looks happy.”
“Quite so…” She replied, swallowing lightly.
“Mind if I step in?” the man asked politely, “It is far more welcoming then out here in the storm.” It was true. The harsh rain had already began to pour! What a mess it would be!
“If you must, Vincent.”
Smiling lightly, the man quickly stepped in. Mussetta hastily shut the door behind him, locking it as well. She was not as welcoming as most mothers in the village. Still, with what had been going on lately, she had a right to be cautious. Raiding from bandits and murderers seemed to happen far more often these days…and with father away, Errol could sense his mother’s fear growing every day.
“Why have you come?” She asked almost angrily, but stopped herself and continued on, as if afraid he would hurt her. “Why did you travel such a long ways…back here? I thought you and Lucius were…”
“Fighting? Alas, we still are…however, It is his birthday, after all. I thought I would come by and offer him my gift. Assuming he’d take it.” Vincent replied, shaking a few wet leaves off of his scarlet red cloak. It was bright and attractive, as if he desired the attention. Or was stating something…perhaps a warning.
“Vincent…You know he won’t accept it. He can barely stand to see you living as it is,” She added lightly, a more sympathetic expression toying on her weary face.
“He is my brother…”
“Yes. He is…but I am afraid he no longer sees you as one. As much as I hate to see him act this way, I do not feel like I can change his mind.”
Vincent nodded slowly, dropping his long, thin shoulders in disappointment.
“He truly detests me…”
Mussetta nodded and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Just because he hates you does not mean we all do…” She added, moving her cold hand to his equally cold cheek. “Your father would have loved you no matter what you were…or who you sided with. Your mother feels the same.”
“My mother? She has a heart blacker than Lucius towards me! What makes you think she loves me?” He barked, shoving away from her touch. He leaned against the wall, heavily breathing.
Mussetta swallowed, trying to keep her fears away and bring in her bravery. It was hard being tough. She was naturally a soft woman. The elvish folk usually were.
“She cared about the little Vincent. The one she still loves-and deep inside you, that child is still there-always will be. Deep inside of her soul she cares for you. She does…but the pressure she feels is certainly great. The Great Lady of Ada’Hiram highly places your family in her priority. She once held a hand for you…perhaps if you just…asked for her help once more. Perhaps then you’ll find the redemption you seek.”
“You suggest that I beg the Great Lady to let some betraying vampire into her humble home?” Mussetta nodded, trying not to grin at how foolish he made it sound. She believed he was good, Errol observed. Perhaps this…uncle….truly was far greater than his father dubbed him to be.
“You are insane…”
“Maybe so! But you know I am right! The Great Lady is usually forgiving and quite accepting. Just…ask her. Perhaps you will find your peace then, and can finally reconcile with your family. I know my husband wants to be with his brother…and my sons want to meet their uncle,” She spoke quite fiercely. It was obvious that she had these thoughts and feelings bottled up for quite some time.
“Just…go to her.”
Vincent’s silver eyes had flickered for an instant. Turning from their silver color, it changed to a scarlet red, much like his cloak. However, the color lasted for only a moment, and quickly faded back into their natural silver.
“Never.”
Mussetta winced from his answer, but lifted her head high, starring him straight in the face. “Then you will never know your family.”
“A price I will have to pay…”
Without another word, the mysterious man disappeared from their home, leaving into the dark, cold rainstorm that flooded the fields. Errol’s mother had stood in the doorway for quite some time. She gazed out into the rain, occasionally feeling a few misty drops that the wind had blown by.
“Mother…” Errol finally spoke.
“Why does father hate him so much?”
“Perhaps one day he shall tell you. Please, my son. Take your brother to his room and go to sleep. Your father returns in the morning.”
Errol nodded and did just that. Still, he was quite fascinated with his uncle. Would he ever meet him again? The boy could only hope.
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• Sep. 19, 2007
Discovering Characters
Ello, everyone!
Well, I realized that I had not updated this thing since my third entry. Forgive me about that. I've been rather busy with school and trying to get my work schedule rounded up to the way I like it, which is impossible, so I might as well quit. Grr. But I won't. Not until I have a better job.
So anyway, I'm going to be doing little blog segments for my characters in the awesome role play that Inkling and I are doing. Go to her blog, she has the rp so far posted up! Read it and comment. :-)
The first I will be doing, I think, is going to be Lain! :-) He's my crazy pirate! So stay tuned for that. I'll hope to have some artwork or stuff up. Maybe some references, and some good old info.
Stay tunes!!!
<3
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• Sep. 11, 2007
Bale is amazing
Okay. Christian Bale is officially the top actor on my list forever! He is the equalness of amazing. Such a brilliant man! He always protrays such amazing characters, and gives it his all!
Yeah...
I'm sort of on a Christian Bale crave....I saw 3:10 to Yuma today. HOLY MACAROLL! It wa so amazing! I wanted to cry at the ending because I loved it so much. This is a new fave to my list of not just Bale movies, but MOVIES MOVIES! :]
All of the actors were amazing!
And I loved it....
And I need to see it again.
Go Bale!!!
And Russel Crow!! <3
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• Sep. 11, 2007
Little Miss Pixie
Hello all!
I am back again, four minutes later, to post another blog on here. Pathetic? Maybe. But I don't care. :]
Anyway...I just wanted to share my recent gallery addition, called "Little Miss Pixie", which is a manipulation piece I made this morning which took little over an hour. I was quite pleased with it. I think it has fun effects...and the touchup to the eyelashes I thought realled added a fun effect to it...but...yeah.
So. I have an obsession with fantasy->Fairies->BASICALLY ANYTHING AMAZING.
Lol.
So, you will most likely see more of this soon.
Just tell me what you think.
:]
-Gabby
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• Sep. 11, 2007
My introduction
*coughs*
Ahem....ello!
I am IcyBootWoot, or, as easily called, Gabby.
I'm new to this awesome homeschoolblogger, so...I just want to say hello to everyone, and let them all know I am excited to be a member here, especially after my dear friend, Emsley (Inkling) shared this site with me.
I do not have much else to say....at least not for the introduction blog. I'll probably post more blogs this evening, since I tend to do that a lot...update things.
I do it alot....
So yeah.
Anyway.
Thanks so much for reading!!
-Gabby
