Midsummer Shadows

[Mangaholic]

War is cruel. War is savage. War is the inevitable hand that sweeps through the lands, climbs the mountains, crosses the seas, takes everyone in its bloodthirsty path.

War. War. Why must we have war? To protect our home, our blood, our freedom. Take up your arms, fight back the enemy. Die for this land that is your mother, that nurtured you from the very beginning, that gave you life in even the hardest of times, that never abandoned you. Retreat not. Betray not your comrades. Pour your blood out, cut out your flesh, mingle them with the blood and flesh of your kin. It is better to die a hero, bathed in the blood of honor, than to live a coward, bound in the chains of darkness and oppression.

 

No side shall back down. No matter what they must do, they will protect their homeland.

 

 

And so, the Summer fey turned to regard this girl who could protect his homeland, who could feed the ever-growing flames and prevent them from falling to smoldering embers. The rest. She had said the rest. That meant the other prophesized ones were around here somewhere as well, but where, he could not see. All his golden gaze could take in amidst the roaring conflagration and sanguine sky were the demons, some dead, some dying, some still stubbornly holding on.

 

“Fear not, child. The Umbralatronis are our allies. We would not harm them, for doing so would be as turning the blade upon ourselves,” he murmured. How strangely gentle and smooth his voice was in the midst of all this chaos and bloodshed. Even with all the lives draining away around them, his words were enough to calm even the most frightened, most tensed creature. “She will be safe with us, as will you and your friends.”

 

His final words hinted at the question that was on his mind and all the minds of all the other Summer fey. Where were the others? Surely, this girl, who had alluded to them in her plea, knew of their whereabouts. Had they . . . had they already been taken by the demons? No, that couldn’t have been. Why would this girl have been left behind, if the others had already been stolen away? The fey refused to believe it.

 

But before the girl had a chance to answer, it began to happen.

 

He saw the two of them, in the center of the ring of flames, one crouched and holding the other in his arms. How familiar that person in his arms looked, how impossibly familiar. A snarl rumbled in the back of the Summer fey’s throat, and suddenly, the air erupted with fiery screams. The cries of his comrades. Around him, he could see his fellow Summer fey falling, dying, staining the ground with their flaming blood. Just as the Summer fey had surrounded and utterly destroyed the demons, so now were the demons wreaking their revenge. But unfortunately for the demons, the faerie adversaries were not as foolish as were they. They had no directed all their attention upon a single object.

 

A tower of black fire roared up from the burnt earth, swallowing up the pair. A single hiss sounded from the lips of every fey. So he was here. How interesting.

 

"Come now. We must leave, ere the demons show their true might," beckoned the male Summer fey. The wall opened up behind him, revealing the battle that was taking place without as well. Burning fey and shadowed demons, all gashing each other’s flesh, all spilling each other’s blood, all for the sake of war.

 

 

[lilyice]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • 

As soon as the question left her mouth, Kathy’s glance swept over Breckin and observed him sleeping on the soft bed. Was it just her imagination, or did Breckin look a little more peaceful, a little less in pain? Or was that just her desire, making her see what she wanted to see? Certainly, the blood had stopped flowing and colour seemed to have returned to the male Summer hybrid. Sadine’s next words calmed Kathy’s state of mind and she allowed herself a small smile.

 

Looking back at her friend, Kathy caught the conflicted look on her face as she spoke. The redhead seemed to have wanted to say something else, but bit back her words. She could tell that Sadine’s smile wasn’t completely genuine—Kathy herself had used the same expression to deal with unwanted questions or worries from the nosy adults in her life—but the blonde didn’t bring it up. Sadine was titled to her own privacy and Kathy had no right to intrude on that by prying and asking her what was wrong. When her friend wanted to tell her what had been on her mind, she would. Before that, the only thing that Kathy could do for her was to let her know that she’d always be here to listen.

 

“You do know that you avoided answering the question about yourself,” the blonde winked, signifying that it was okay and she was only in jest, “but I’m glad that Breckin’s okay now.” Her face turned serious as she finished her sentence. If he hadn’t been…Kathy didn’t want to think about it. She also felt uneasy about the way that the witch healed Breckin, because something surely had happened. The fox…Kathy couldn’t get her mind off of that either.

 

Deciding to take up Sadine’s offer on the chair, the Thunder hybrid shifted to seat herself on the one beside Sadine. She hesitated to answer her friend’s question, because saying that the animal startled her sounded really lame now that she’d thought about it. But then again, nothing’s impossible anymore. I’ll probably never think anything’s weird ever again.

 

Realizing the truth in her thoughts, she turned to Sadine and hesitatingly said, “No, she didn’t…But you know the fox that was with her when we first met her? It gives me the creeps but besides that, it was outside with me and just suddenly started barking and prancing around. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that it was anxious,” Kathy mused, certain that it wasn’t just another part of her crazy imagination. “At first I thought there was danger nearby, but nothing stirred. Then, out of the blue, I had a theory that maybe something happened to the witch, so I came in and saw her going out the door of this room. She didn’t look any different though, so maybe I’m wrong…?”

 

Kathy left the question hanging, her tone with a mild hint of curiosity.

[jaina]

Shirayuki was mildly reassured by the words that the faerie gave her, but she wasn't planning on taking anyone at face value for the moment. She needed to keep herself aware of her own position, and just how valuable she was to all those involved. She already knew the demons could be bullied purely by threatening herself, and if it came to that, she could probably push the fae in the same way, but it didn't seem that would be needed, at least for the time being. She turned though, when the massive column of dark fire erupted from the fight behind them. With the faerie's prompting, Shira nodded and began moving again, following the fae off the battlefield. "You'll be wanting something from me, same as them, won't you?" Shira asked calmly, more than a bit unhappy with the idea of having to be used, even if it didn't show outwardly.

[Mangaholic]

XXXXXXXXXXXX Sadine Leila PiromaneXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX♬ . ♪ • ♩´¯` ♬ • ♪ . ♫XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

╔═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗

XXThere are those who say I'm impatient,

XXimpetuous, uppity, rude, profane, brash, and overbearing.

XXWhether I'm any of those things, or all of them, you can decide for yourself.

XXBut whatever I am —and this ought to be made very clear—I am a very serious woman.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX —Bella Abzug

╚═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX✿XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Somehow, rather ironically, the teasing wink that Kathy had given her brightened Sadine’s spirits, if only a bit. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t expected it in the very least; she’d expected Kathy to not have mentioned her lack of a response at all, to completely ignore it as one would have thought her to want, but Kathy had done quite the opposite. Yes, maybe that was the reason—or maybe, the reason was guilt—guilt that she was hiding away her thoughts and feelings from Kathy. It didn’t seem right anymore to hold in that silly little worry of hers; it wasn’t anything outrageously horrible by any means—just a strange, heavy feeling upon her heart that she couldn’t quite understand—never mind explain—herself.

 

The chair shifted a bit as Kathy sat down upon the seat, lightly scraping the polished legs against the floor. The blonde seemed uncertain in answering Sadine’s question, seemingly pondering over her response with a slight furrow in her brow. Sadine opened her mouth, ready to tell her companion that there was no need to answer. Kathy hadn’t expected her to answer the question of her current state, and for that, she was grateful, not to mention touched; she didn’t want to thrust the blonde into a situation she would not wish upon herself.

 

The words were too late in slipping from her tongue, though; Kathy had already begun explaining, a faltering note etched into her thoughtful tone. Sadine’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the mention of the fox. Having been too wary of the witch, she had almost totally overlooked the significance of the vulpine at Ileia’s side. She wasn’t sure what she had thought of the fox when she had seen it. It had been just there, like a pet dog at anyone’s house, unworthy of attention in a dire situation such as this one.

 

The redhead would have made a congratulatory remark, would have given Kathy a good-natured bravo for her keen eyes and remarkable observation skills, had Kathy not mentioned the witch. Suddenly, Sadine’s slowly reemerging cheerfulness was swept away in a dark, doleful wave.

 

The sense of relief that blossomed in her chest at the news that the witch looked unharmed, lightening the burden upon her spirit, driving away that oppressive heaviness, told her all. It was guilt, then, that had been tormenting her thus far—though not exactly the kind of guilt she had originally thought. She wasn’t worried about any sort of debt she now own; she hardly thought of it, in fact. It was guilt on her conscience, concern for the witch’s welfare—even though she hardly knew the woman. She wished she hadn’t regarded the witch so lowly and so cynically, wished she hadn’t been so rude and openly suspicious when Ileia had transferred her life to Breckin. It made sense, she tried to tell herself, to have acted so warily, especially considering everything that had happened to them so far, but for all her rationalizations, she couldn’t help but feel horrible inside. Sadine remembered the cold, bitter smile that had emerged upon the witch’s face shortly before her departure; it had contrasted so much with Ileia’s previously warm demeanour. Surely, Sadine was to blame for that vast difference. What else could have possibly caused the witch’s mood to change so?

 

Sadine casually avoided Kathy’s gaze, now looking down at the white-speckled brown surface of her hot chocolate. Her hand continued to rub the side of her mug in slow circular motions; by now, her skin had grown accustomed to the burning clay, or perhaps the beverage had just cooled incredibly quickly. Her alleviating relief was tempered by Kathy’s description of the fox; she was sure that the fox’s apprehension and helplessness was a result of Ileia’s drained life. Why else would the creature have acted so peculiarly? If the cause were danger, she would have expected the vulpine to bare its teeth and snarl viciously like a watchdog, or, if not, to flee into the safety of the cabin. The knowledge accentuated the painful twinge on Sadine’s conscience. A wound felt not only by its victim, but also by her companion must have been a severe wound, indeed.

 

“She was healing Breckin, like she said she would, but . . . ,” Sadine began quietly, tentatively. Anyone who had known her for a while—even a short while, save for this kind of while—would have marked her hesitation off as a major idiosyncrasy. Sadine, after all, was definitely not a woman of uncertainty. But perhaps events were changing all that now, warping her into a mold that was completely unfamiliar to her.

 

Even as she spoke, she wondered how Kathy would take her words. The other girl would probably find them absurd. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Breckin was so badly wounded, and she hadn’t coerced the witch into healing Breckin at the expense of her own life, either. She didn’t need to feel guilty about anything—or so she expected Kathy to say. The response was something Sadine would have expected from the majority of her friends, if not from all of them. They had never given much thought to her problems whenever she’d had them; they’d never really put themselves in her shoes and pondered over her situation. Their advice, their consolation, was always so thoughtless, as if the words were meant only to get the situation over with. Sure, Sadine was rash and impulsive. Sure, she liked to speak her mind in the most outspoken manner possible, but there was a big difference, at least in her opinion, between being blunt and being thoughtless.

 

“But . . . I don’t know,” Sadine shook her head in mild frustration, “I thought she was trying to hurt him. I thought . . . she was like the rest of those demons. She had these black things coming out of her fingers and going into his body. I thought maybe she was poisoning him or something, and I asked her what she was doing to him.” Anguish began to seep into her voice. “I didn’t think she was giving him her life. If I had known, I wouldn’t have talked that way to her. . . . It’s just . . . I feel really bad. . . . ” She drifted off into silence. She realized, even more so now that she had started to spill out her burden, how trivial and stupid her anxieties seemed. Part of her wanted to exaggerate the story, to validate her feelings of guilt and regret, so she wouldn’t have to hear her own realization echoed from Kathy’s lips, but instead, she remained silent, her eyes fixed on the mug at her lap.

 

 

 

 

 

[Elsendor]

[[Just a short, fun post--we'll see how the hybrids react and then I'll go on with this. ^.^]]

Only a cravat?

Oh, my dear sir. A cravat is the apotheosis of all neckwear. A cravat distinguishes a man of refinement from the merely ordinary it sneers at the severity of the stock. It is the only item of dress the expresses true individuality. And whether is be made of lace or silk or the finest loom it thrives on ingenuity, on originality, and above all on personality down to the last skilled of twist of bow or knot.

- Percy Blakeney, The Scarlet PimpernelOdd's fish.

 

Maybe he really wasn’t cut out for this.

 

He liked to think of himself as a sleek, cold killer—a menacing shadow that could strip any being of life without leaving a mark, and of course, without the slightest stain anywhere on his gorgeous person. Before anyone could comprehend his work, he was gone. There was simply no way he would condescend to the level of the common soldier, glutting his maw in gore and soaking his fur in the blood of his victims. It was beneath him, god damn it.

 

But no, here he’d been teased, coaxed, cajoled into this godforsaken mission that was painted over like a special operation and turned out to be nothing but a humiliating defeat. Here he’d thought himself a lion, albeit a refined violet one, and found himself a cat—a cat!—whose yowlings and meowings were but a nuisance, whose menace was a joke. He’d thought his existence as a Myr small and challenging enough, but this, this… Enough hours of sitting unobtrusively inside an immobile form, no matter how embarrassing it would be to reveal one’s deplorable condition, could only be taken silently for just. so. long.

 

“It’s just demmed spiteful,” said the black baseball cap that was Ancadel, flicking its ears backwards in scarcely-contained indignance. “…just damn spiteful,” he repeated for theatric effect, “not only stripping a fellow of his beautiful, luxurious fur, his aristocratic features, his claws which just so happen to be the most precise little tools in the country, but in re-instating him into a new vehicle, to deny him even the dignity of a proper body and turn him into some sort of a comical daemon familiar.”

 

“I used to be beautiful!!” he yowled. “And—and now—LOOK AT ME!!!”

 

Oh, and the hat that was Ancadel—it was sitting on head of one Danni Karenza.

 

Edited February 1, 2012 by Elsendor

[Kira1]

Danni had been fast asleep, so exhausted after everything that happened that she didn't dream of anything. She wasn't expected to be woken though by a voice that was really close to her head. The talking was just a normal speaking volume at first, but then whoever it was practically shouting what they said. That fully woke her from her half asleep state.

 

Still groggy though from being rudely awakened, she blinked her eyes open as she shifted her position. However, she didn't see who it was that spoke. In fact, it occurred to her that she didn't recognize the voice from anyone she had met today that she knew was here in this house. So either there was another residence she didn't know of, or she was hearing things. She highly doubted the latter, since she doubted she could just hallucinate something she just heard. Crazy things may have happened today, but crazy she was not.

 

Deciding it was probably nothing, she took hold of the brim of her hat to pull the brim over her eyes as she tried to return to sleep. It was quite annoying to be awoken by something and then not even see what it was. However, she would put off her curiosity to what had said that until after she had a good night's rest. Since she was sure the craziness was not over, and wouldn't be for awhile. She only had herself to blame for being in this mess, but she wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

[Mangaholic]

It happened some millennia ago, a second in the life of a fey. A drop of blood fell to the ground; a heart cracked and led them out into this already blackened world. Ashes. Ashes. Falling from the sky like snow on a calm winter morning. Lifeless gray amidst a sanguine hue. What a beautiful scene it made—only a single scene amidst the giant painting that spanned the endless, haunted hall of their past. But it was the one scene that stained all those to follow. The hatred that blossomed forth that day, still blossoming, still eating away. Love is hate, and hate is love. Like a circle. Like a ring. Like the sun in the sky, giving us life and giving us death. There is no end. No end at all.

 

A scream ripped through the air, louder than the others. The column of fire rose higher and higher, roaring like a dragon caught in bloodlust. The atmosphere sizzled and crackled.

 

She followed after the fey, toward the forest that was held by his Summer kin. That was not to say there were no demons there. No, the demons were everywhere, just as the fey were everywhere, all fighting to gain a hold of this land that was neither of theirs. This land held what they were searching for, after all, but who had the greater claim over that thing was a question to be answered by mere children. Who would have expected children, who had so many questions tearing at their minds, questions desperately waiting upon the tip of their tongues, to hold the answer to their most vital question? No one. But it was the truth, unfortunately for them all. What a sad, sad fate they had, forced to depend upon the whimsical wills of children.

 

The Summer fey broke into something close to a run for the trees. They were almost there, almost to the cover of safety—if such could be called safety. He explained, his words unpunctuated by the lack of heavy breathing: “As allies of the Umbralatronis, we are obligated to help you.” He suddenly stopped, turning around to stare keenly into the gold-flecked eyes of the mixed-breed. The blazing fire behind her reflected in his own golden irises. His lips pulled back to reveal straight, white teeth in a sinister smile. “Unless you are saying that you are our enemy.”

 

 

 

[lilyice]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • 

Kathy couldn’t help but to mull over the similarities that she kept on finding between herself, and this girl who had been a stranger a bit over a few days ago. A summer fey hybrid. A dancer. Someone with a completely different life than hers. A friend.

 

Her first impression of Sadine hadn’t been strong, but while getting to know her, the blonde could tell that she was a very straightforward girl. Sadine was always opinionated and she would speak her mind. She was both analytical and emotional, depending on the situation. She put up a strong front, determined not to let others see her weakness, if she had any. Much like how Kathy was, honestly. They were both people who had a certain surety, though they came from such different backgrounds. And through this whole event, they were both people whose certainty is falling apart, and that can be a scary thing without somebody being there for you, Kathy now realized. She thought about what would have happened if there weren’t so many of them, if she was the only one. After all, in many stories, the heroine was always alone. But she couldn’t even imagine herself surviving a day in this environment, all by herself.

 

Sadine began to speak, and Kathy listened. She didn’t interrupt when the redhead faltered, and instead just waited for her to go on. Sadine would finish the story, she knew; she just had to give her time. The other girl focused solely on the white piece of ceramic in her hands, either unable or unwilling to look up at her friend. To Kathy, it seemed obvious that she was feeling guiltier than she let out, and the thunder hybrid pondered over her words.

 

It was a strange thing, this world was. If the witch was doing healing by giving away her own life, then everything kind of made sense, in this bizarre way that all fits together. Kathy now understood why the creature outside acted so; they must share a deeper bond than just master and pet companion. Still, the image that Sadine described, it was uncanny. She couldn’t blame her friend for being so wary at first, and she told her as much.

 

“Sadine, listen to me. I…I can’t say for certain, because I don’t know how Ileia feels, but I don’t think she blames you,” Kathy gently grabbed her right hand and pulled it away from the mug, giving it a slight squeeze. She had used the witch's name, because it felt inappropriate now, if she still called her “the witch.”

 

Kathy was never really good with words, and she sometimes tended to be too blunt, so she might not have been the best choice to be the one to comfort someone else. However, if she could just get Sadine to understand, then it would be alright.

 

“Heck, nobody would if they’ve been through what we went through. It’s not like she didn’t know it was your first time seeing this side of the world. Whenever two new people meet, whether they’re hybrids or witches or whatever else, there are always going to be misunderstandings because that’s how you get to know each other. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so harsh and so suspicious. Maybe you do deserve to feel guilty. But an apology is all that it takes to make things right, Sadine. A sincere ‘I’m sorry’ will be much better than you sitting here, not knowing what to do with yourself. If Ileia is someone willing to give a bit of her own life away to heal someone she doesn’t even know, then she’ll understand your apology. Even if she doesn’t, then at least you’ll have done something. At least you’ll have tried, okay?” The blonde paused, giving herself the time to take a breath.

 

“Or at least so my mother said,” Kathy smirked, flashing a good-natured smile. “You know I’d never be able to come up with anything like that. Oh, except for the witches and hybrids part. That wasn't her, that was me.”

 

She stood up and pulled Sadine’s hand along with her. Turning it so that the back of her palm faced the ceiling, Kathy used her index finger to lightly draw a smiley face on the surface. “It’s what my mom always did when I’m feeling down,” she simply said.

 

“Come on, let’s go out now. Breckin will wake up on his own account and I’m sure someone will let us know. Let’s see what the others are up to and where Ileia is.”

Edited January 26, 2012 by lilyice

[myahoo]

Adrian Eldridge

 



It was a little weird, Adrian mused as he stared into his cup of hot chocolate, how like a dog he had been acting since this entire thing began. At first, he'd brushed it off as primal instinct, but, now that he actually had some time to stop and think, it was obvious. When they'd reached this forest, his first instinct hadn't been to stop and scan his surroundings; it had been to back up and growl. And instead of jumping when the fox barked, he'd wanted to snarl at it!

 

That wasn't even taking into account the fact that he knew his sense of smell and hearing had improved overnight. He hadn't had a single problem following the group down the tunnel, despite the lack of sufficient light, and he suspected that, had it been pitch black, he would still be able to follow them reliably. It was unnerving to realize that he could now rely on his hearing and sense of smell just as much as his sight and that he had already started to.

 

He'd known, before he'd seen or tasted them, that the cups had hot chocolate in them, along with some mint. He could tell that Kathy was the one who smelt of lightning, while Sadine and Breckin were the ones who smelt of fire. The guy sitting on the floor, holding his cup of hot chocolate even while asleep, smelt of the ocean, while the girl asleep in the loveseat smelt of a storm. And he'd also caught the scents of flowers, snow, and ravens, along with a few others that he wasn't sure of.

 

There was also the fact that he hadn't been the one to identify what he'd been smelling; after all, there was no way he'd known what snow smelt like before now, so there was something else in or of him that understood what he was smelling better than he did. Stupid other world, he thought grumpily, dissatisfied with the little he knew. That dog probably has something to do with this, too, he mused, remembering the dog that had come to him the night he'd changed and again before they escaped. With a shake of his head and a soft growl, he decided to try to go to sleep, as it seemed no one was going to do anything.

 

But he had only closed his eyes when he heard a voice speaking, though from what he could tell, it didn't seem to be any of the other teens'. It was also coming from the direction of the sleeping storm-scented girl. He briefly debated whether he should investigate and heard the girl shifting around. When she stopped moving, he cracked his eyes open and glanced at her curiously. He was certain the voice came from somewhere in her vicinity, but there was nothing that could speak, except for her, and he was almost absolutely sure that she hadn't been the one he'd heard. Still, he didn't see, hear, or smell anything out of the ordinary from her direction, so, with a curious and calculating look, Adrian closed his eyes and finally let himself drift off.



 

He dares to venture into the darkness that even the shadows avoid...

[Kenosis]

• Many people speak of an event in one’s life which forever changes the outlook taken and the actions undergone. I find this outlook a mite antiquated though fundamentally correct. I undergo this life changing event once a year, Midsummer’s Day to be precise.

 

The sights are familiar but bring me no comfort. My dank surroundings flicker with the intermittent light from a broken lamp propped up in the corner of the room. The brief periods of light expose a smear of blood tracing from the center of the room to the remnant of my right arm.

 

I remember the scents, too. The acrid tang of fear and urine bites my nostrils, reminding me of the time when it brought my eyes to tears. Once again, the blood wells up throughout the room, a metallic odor which spurs greater pain from my arm.

 

Ah yes, my arm. This realization always surprises me, no matter how many times I return. I steel myself, becoming minorly irked at the irrational human response which still bursts to the surface. My arm is the same as it always is in this room, a poorly cauterized stump with a small shard of bone at the center and a slow but steady trickle of blood running from its bottom edge.

 

Although the state of my arm never ceases to surprise me, my response has always the same rational decision. I roll towards the nearest wall, propping myself up against it. My left arm is no less awkward than the first time I reached across my body, digging into my right hip pocket for my needle and thread.

 

It is not there. Panic immediately floods my body, ice-cold water filling my mind. Again, subtle differences which escaped my mind due to the familiarity of this occurrence begin to stand out. My wrist possesses black marks, running vertically from my forearm to hand. Closer inspection in the dim light reveals a fine seam running around my arm, between the tight stitching. The persistent itch in my neck also draws my attention. The same fine stitching circles my neck, and the investigation of the seam between it brings stabbing pain not only to my neck but to my fingers as well….

 

The final difference slowly becomes more and more apparent. Laughter. High-pitched and without a shred of sanity it slowly grows louder. Footsteps, again erratic, begin to reach my ears. I remember this part. Given the differences of this occurrence from those of the previous, this laughter inspires great dread in me.

 

Step. Step-step. Steppity step-step. A pause. Then a harsh rapping sounds against the door. “Young master Anrion, I’m coming in. I’ve brought fresh meat.”

 

The door slowly opens and the light, curse it, goes out. A soft footfall occurs near the middle of the room, muffled by my unwilling donation. My instincts scream to move and I attempt to slowly slide towards the door, keeping my back against the wall. A step, still soggy from its path, sounds across the room, closer to the now dark lamp.

 

The light flickers back into existence, and in the brief strobe-light period, something appears to move. Then light fills the room again.

 

“Good morning, master Anrion. I hope that you have found your accommodations are up to your father’s standing.”

 

My intuition was correct, Terra, or one who resembles my ex-housekeeper stands over me. Bent at the waist, her face lowered towards mine. Her arms cross behind her back, as if she intended to hide an object from me. Her attempt barely registers, however, as Terra’s appearance captures my attention. Gone are the pale countenance and blonde tresses that my memory insists should be standing in front of me. Instead her hair is streaked with black and white, forming an amalgamation of grey. Her skin also now falls in grey scale, a tone darker than that of her hair. Her eyes possess the most disturbing change though. Gone are the greens which danced with joy at a melody coerced from a violin or a dress crafted by my own hands, gone are the greens full of liquid madness, cursing and ranting at my father’s stubbornness. Instead two red points smolder in the black of her cornea.

 

“Now young master Anrion,” she chides, “Is that any way to react to one who bears you such a great gift?”

 

My body presses up against the wall, attempting to flee from the wrongness. The itching of both my neck and wrist increase. They are joined by an itch around my thigh as well, leading to a terrifying worry.

 

“Gift?” I hazard, my voice dry and harsh.

“What gift do you offer and what have I done to deserve it? I believe that I caused you much greater pain than joy.”

 

“So modest,” she coos, leaning down and pressing cold lips against my forehead. “Though I see that my teaching brought some intelligence into that head of yours; your assessment is correct. You had caused me no end of annoyance in the past, but now, you have given me a great gift.”

 

One hand shifts from behind her back, revealing black thread wrapped around her palm. A needle glints in the dull light, my needle and thread. It becomes even more difficult to repress the horror and a panicked gasp escapes my lips.

 

“Goodness me,” Terra exclaims, miming shock at my outburst. “Now young master, do not be too impatient. I have your fresh meat here.”

 

Her other arm moves from behind her back and she straightens, revealing a human arm.

 

Fear and revelation spark me to action as I scrabble to my feet and attempt to bolt towards the door. Terra seems to give way at this sudden movement; my progress, however, is quickly halted. My feet cannot move.

 

I turn and notice Terra’s shadow is far darker than mine, a veritable chasm into the earth. Though her hands still are held apart, one holding her grisly catch and the other my needle and thread, her shadow’s hands have grasped my shadow’s legs, seemingly stopping my flight.

 

“Young master,” her voice cracks harshly. “I have a gift for you in return for the one you have given me. Now hold still.”

 

Her shadow erupts outward from the ground, arcing into the air in many tendrils. They wrap around me, bearing me to the ground and binding me.

 

Terra kneels by my right arm, needle and thread held anxiously. The arm is placed where my arm should be, and she cackles.

 

“Now Anrion, do take my gift graciously… and do not be afraid to scream.”

 

The needle pierces my flesh and the pain brings cries of agony to my lips as her shadow continues to wrap around me, leaving only my screams and the red pinpricks of her eyes.“Gah!” I bolt upright in bed, heart racing and covered with a cold sweat. “It was just a dream,” I mutter to myself, forcing my clenched hands to relax and my breathing to slow. The clock beside me reads three twenty-seven. The dream never fails to occur on Midsummer’s day, but it has never changed. Not until now.

Edited February 1, 2012 by Kenosis

[Mangaholic]

XXXXXXXXXXXX Sadine Leila PiromaneXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX♬ . ♪ • ♩´¯` ♬ • ♪ . ♫XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

╔═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗

XXThere are those who say I'm impatient,

XXimpetuous, uppity, rude, profane, brash, and overbearing.

XXWhether I'm any of those things, or all of them, you can decide for yourself.

XXBut whatever I am —and this ought to be made very clear—I am a very serious woman.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX —Bella Abzug

╚═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX✿XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The warmth of human touch drew Sadine’s eyes slowly from the mug. Her gaze followed the length of her right arm, to the end where her hand rested gently in Kathy’s grasp. She couldn’t bring herself to meet the other girl’s amber gaze, though, as the first consoling words flowed into her ears. To her, they were just that—consoling, with only the carapace of futility wrapped around them. It never was, after all, an easy task to bring comfort to another’s soul; that was probably the reason why most people chose to avoid it as best they could. No one likes to be met with failure, especially if the failure potentially meant a storm of tears or a thunderous roll of wailing—not that, of course, Sadine planned on crying again. She’d never been given to crying, and while today was quite a shock for her, she refused to allow herself to do so again. Crying never did help.

 

But as the soft, carefully worded speech continued to pour out from the blonde’s lips, the words picked away at the heaviness in Sadine’s chest—not necessarily lifting away the guilt that was there. No, the guilt remained there, festering, as burdening as ever; but at least, the girl felt lighter now—truly lighter. She wondered why she herself hadn’t thought of uttering a word of apology to the witch—to Ileia. Perhaps it was because she’d never been the type to say “I’m sorry” before; her tongue had always seemed so twisted and tied when the need came to apologize. When had been the last time she had ever said “sorry” and really meant it? Never mind meant it. When had been the last time she had said that single word, even grudgingly? She couldn’t remember. Aside from the trivial instances where she had accidentally bumped into another person on a bustling street, she couldn’t remember. And there’d never been much of a need, anyway. She’d rarely ever been wrong in her life. That wasn’t to say, of course, that she was perfect; it was only that few people were able, or even willing to try, to beat her in an argument, to put up with her notorious temper and fiery passion. And she liked it that way. She prided herself in being the victor of nearly every quarrel, of nearly every fight. She wasn’t vain, she wasn’t conceited, but she certainly never saw the need to apologize unless she was the one in the wrong.

 

And she didn’t need anyone to tell her how much of the wrong she was in now.

 

“Or at least so my mother said,” Kathy was saying, “You know I’d never be able to come up with anything like that. Oh, except for the witches and hybrids part. That wasn't her, that was me.”

 

A genuine smile of amusement broke across Sadine’s lips; and though she still continued to avoid looking straight into the her friend’s eyes, anyone could see that she had visibly brightened. She rose when Kathy did, setting her cup down on her seat, and watched as Kathy’s finger drew an invisible smiley face upon her upward palm. “It’s what my mom always did when I’m feeling down,” she explained simply, but in that simple explanation, in that nearly flat tone, Sadine heard the false note. Or maybe she hadn’t heard it so much as caught the inadvertent hint that betrayed a sorrowful past, that wrought that falseness in the place. The smiley face. . . . what her mom had always done. . . .

 

“Come on, let’s go out now. Breckin will wake up on his own account and I’m sure someone will let us know. Let’s see what the others are up to and where Ileia is,” Kathy said, breaking into Sadine’s thoughts once more. A slight cheeriness laced her words, and Sadine wondered if her use of the past tense had only been a mistake. To lose one’s mother. . . . Sadine had never really been close to her parents, but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine losing either one of them. The thought was just . . . it seemed like it was something that would happen to someone else.

 

But of course, everyone is someone else to another person.

 

Sadine looked at her friend, realizing now that, veiled beneath Kathy’s innocent features, beneath her strong personality, was an aura of sorrow about her; in those amber depths, there seemed to hide a grief that had never been truly healed. Maybe she was just imagining it all; maybe it was just the work of her imagination, seeking to uncover evidence that would support her recent discovery. She wasn’t sure, and at this point in time, she didn’t trust herself to make the right judgments. But it didn’t matter, anyway. She didn’t plan on prying into Kathy’s history. Kathy had been kind to her, not forcing her to spill her feelings without her consent; she would most gladly return the favour—and even if such a deed had never come from Kathy, Sadine would have still done the same thing. She believed firmly that everyone had his or her own business, and that no one else should be prying into that business. It was the equivalent of trespassing, after all.

 

As the pair exited the room, Sadine murmured sincerely, “Thanks, Kathy. . . . I don’t know what I could do without you.”

 

It was such a strange thing to say, Sadine realized belatedly, considering that they sounded like words meant for a best friend of nine years or something, but she really did mean them. No one in those unfortunate group had been as caring, as helpful to her, as Kathy. What would she have done without Kathy? Probably just would have stayed in that room, being miserable and drowning in remorse.

 

The glow of the living room came gradually upon them, until the lights hit them full-on when they reached the doorway connecting the living room and the hallway. The faint aroma of chocolate and mint still hung sweetly in the air. The majority of the other teenagers had already dozed off, some with their mug of hot chocolate still clasped precarious between their fingers. Sadine didn’t blame them; they’d all been through so much that it was a wonder she herself was still standing right now.

 

She swept her gaze over the room, searching for Ileia. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach; she had no idea what to say, except that a simple “I’m sorry” wouldn’t suffice, at least not for her. Maybe Ileia would understand and accept it, but she herself knew that it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to remove that anvil of guilt she felt, weighing on her conscience. In fact, if Ileia took a two-worded apology with genuine absolution, the act would serve only to make Sadine feel worse.

 

But the witch was nowhere to be found.

 

Uncertainty—more so—crashed over Sadine; she wasn’t sure if Ileia would be happy with their wandering about her home, even if it was in search of her, and she would rather not to test their host. She looked at the other teens again, more closely this time, trying to find one who had not yet fallen asleep. She didn’t need to.

 

“Do you need something?”

 

Sadine spun around, taken by surprise. Before she could stop herself, the exclamation wrenched itself from her lips: “Ileia!”

 

The woman’s facial expression didn’t change. “Yes?” she said, patiently. There was no hint of irritation upon her countenance, or anger, or amusement. She simply looked calm, like a receptionist answering the question of some mentally deranged patient.

 

It took a while for Sadine to recollect her thoughts. She hadn’t expected at all for Ileia to be in the hallway, but now that such had occurred, she realized that she should have expected that very much. After all, hadn’t Ileia promised that Hadyn dude that she would tend to Rhiannon after she was done with Breckin?

A strange, unidentifiable emotion nettled the redheaded girl suddenly. Was she feeling upset, or annoyed, or what? She couldn’t tell. She wondered if Ileia had done to same to Rhiannon as she done for Breckin—given up part of her life, that was. The guess was a likely one, considering that the two Umbralatronis seemed quite important to Ileia, but Sadine wasn’t feeling happy about it, for whatever reason that was. There—she’d at least figured out that the nameless, ninja emotion wasn’t anything good.

 

But now, what to say? What to say? Sadine knew that Kathy was waiting for her to make the first word, but honestly she wished that Kathy would start for her. She wasn’t scared or anything, but her mind had run dry of words. Why was it that, when she was in a fight, the words poured down like rain on a lotus leaf, and yet now, she was at a total, utter loss for them?

 

She opened her mouth, and the words came of their own accord. “I’m sorry!” She didn’t know herself what she was saying; she could only hope that her impromptu speech was a good one. “I didn’t mean to be so rude. I was just . . . so on edge when we came here. I couldn’t think anything, except that everyone was trying to hurt us. I didn’t want to be taken off guard again, and . . . what you were doing to Breckin just looked so unnatural. I couldn’t help it.” She paused, only to take a deep breath. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to give away your life like that.”

 

Surprise blossomed on Ileia’s visage, and then a small, sad or weary smile (Sadine couldn’t tell which) pulled at the corner of her lips. “That’s fine. I understand,” she said, gently, “A lot has happened to all of you, hasn’t it? It must have been so shocking for you to be thrust so abruptly into this kind of world. I can only imagine how you must be feeling now.”

 

Sadine didn’t speak.

 

“I wasn’t holding anything against you.” The witch shook her head consolingly, and Sadine heard both sorrow and weariness in her voice. “But thank you for apologizing. I really do appreciate it.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Sadine said awkwardly, after a moment’s hesitation. It didn’t seem right to say you’re welcome to that kind of “thank you,” but she wasn’t sure what else to say. Since when had she become so bad with words?

 

Ileia’s smile grew slightly, nonetheless, and she nodded, before turning her attention to Kathy. “You’re the one who went outside, right?” she asked. “Would you like something to eat, or to drink? I don’t believe that I’ve given you anything yet.”

 

 

 

 

 

[lilyice]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • 

She needn’t to have worried after all.

 

At first, Kathy was afraid that none of her words had gotten through to Sadine; the girl had looked as desolate as ever, maybe even more so, after hearing the first few sentences from Kathy. To the blonde, her friend looked like she was withdrawing into herself, thinking deeply about something that Kathy couldn’t reach, couldn’t help with. She wasn’t even that sure if she was reading the other hybrid correctly, since her face wasn’t as open, as raw with emotions, as a few minutes ago.

 

But then Sadine had smiled. It was a genuine reaction provoked from Kathy’s slight joke, and she was glad of the reaction. Nothing was more awkward than her trying to comfort someone, and having no effect whatsoever. After all, Kathy wasn’t usually the one in the comforting position; she was usually the one that caused others to need words of comfort because of her outer harshness and snappy attitude. She definitely wouldn’t have known what to do if Sadine remained too depressed. It just wasn’t her…thing. To offer words of consolation, that is. Jon and Jase would probably to shocked to death if they saw me now, she mused, thinking back to her brothers after she had mentioned her mother.

 

Between glances, Kathy noticed Sadine now looking at her questioningly, with a speculative look on her face. Was it something that she had said? The Thunder hybrid quickly ran through her string of words from before, not noticing anything out of the norm, and shrugged it off. Belatedly, she realized that she did mention her mother, which she hadn’t done, to anyone, for at least a few years. But then Sadine couldn’t have known what happened, and Kathy didn’t feel like telling unless she asked. Another realization hit Kathy then. She would tell Sadine her story, if she’d asked. And that couldn’t be said for just anyone.

 

“Thanks Kathy…I don’t know what I could do without you.”

 

Jolted out of her thoughts, Kathy could only try her hardest not to stare at her companion while walking out the door. She wondered for a second if she’d heard right, as Sadine was only speaking in a murmur, but it couldn’t have been anything else. The corners of her mouth lifted, and it was all she could do to suppress herself from grinning all-out. Kathy was glad that Sadine thought of her as such a good friend. Though they’d met in such bizarre circumstances, she was glad to have met her at all.

 

Walking into the living room, Kathy saw that nothing had changed. People were still dozing off, and those who weren’t were close to it anyway. It was discouraging to see Ileia absent, but it was even more shocking to suddenly hear her voice behind them. If it wasn’t for her usual habit to control herself from blurting out things in her surprise, Kathy probably would’ve said the exact same thing as Sadine, in the exact same tone.

 

There was a silent (awkward) pause when none of them said anything, but words started pouring out of Sadine’s mouth. Kathy was glad that she didn’t think too much on what she was going to say, because oftentimes, words blurted out in haste are the sincerest ones. Sometimes they might be harsh, and sometimes they wouldn’t be accepted – but at least they came from the heart.

 

As for the witch, Kathy still held an instinctive distrust of her, but it was slightly calmed by Sadine’s story. Kathy couldn’t anticipate how Ileia would react, but react she did, and it was then all that Kathy could do to keep herself standing. In that one moment, when Ileia first displayed surprise, then a smile, while genuine, still sad and wearied, Kathy thought of her mother.

 

 

She had a fight at school today, and her teacher was displeased. It wasn’t her fault, though. Why couldn’t they see that it was the other girl who made her mad? Who told her to say bad things about her friends?

 

And why did the teacher have to call her mother? She didn’t do anything that bad…it was just a small scuffle. It wasn’t like the other girl was hurt or anything…just a bruised knee and a slightly red face from her hand. She didn’t even slap that hard!

 

At home, things were depressing for the little six-year-old. Her father had scolded her but then had forgiven her, treating her with her favourite ice cream. But her mother…she just ignored her and that was worse than anything. The little girl thought it was better that she just yelled at her.

 

Not being able to stand it, she went to her room and grabbed her favourite teddy bear, hugging it close, before going to knock on her mother’s studio. Her ears were graced with her mother’s gentle voice, and tears instantly pooled in her eyes, threatening to fall down.

 

She went inside, and the first thing she said was ‘sorry’. Wailing to say that she’d never do it again, as long as her mother talked to her, the little girl sniffled and cried, grabbing on to her mother’s skirt.

 

The woman’s expression changed from one of indifference to one of surprise, and she smiled. It was sad and it full of weariness, as she said that as long as the girl understood what she did wrong and would not start fights again, for whatever reason, then she wouldn’t be mad anymore.

 

The girl looked up at her mother’s face and promised that she would be good.

 

She didn’t hear what Ileia said after that, and only just barely caught her last question, directed at Kathy herself.

 

“Y-yes, hot chocolate would be fine, thank you.” She didn’t trust herself to say any more than that, as she found an empty couch and sat down, still lost in her own thoughts.

[Kenosis]

 

 

“Anrion, this bull**** philosophy of yours is simply a selfish excuse to protect yourself."

 

Violet May, Anrion’s psychiatrist of four years, stood angrily over the young, dark haired boy who lounged on her office’s fainting couch. One hand rested upon her hip while the other pulled her hair out of its a severe bun.

 

“We’ve seen this behavioral pattern in you for the past three years. You refuse to let yourself interact with others due to your fear of betrayal. There’s something more that you aren’t telling me, that you’ve refused to tell me for the past three years. What’s really behind all of this?”

 

“Correct miss,” the teen on the couch replied, his voice precise and measured. “What I believe allows me to ‘selfishly’ protect myself, just as it allows me to ‘selfishly’ protect you.”

 

He rose, firmly sliding the petite psychiatrist out of his way. His eyes focused on the short woman as he spoke. “While I thank you for your concern, miss, I must respectfully remove myself. I do hope that you understand.”

 

“Anrion get back here. Don’t use the date’s history to-”

 

The door snapped shut, cutting off the remainder of her protest. A sigh escaped Anrion’s lips as only the slight hum of the air conditioning and the paced strokes of the secretary’s fingers on the keyboard grated against the appearance of tranquility. He reached up, absently straightening his tie as be began to leave the building.

 

“Leaving already darlin’?” drawled the middle-aged secretary, not lifting her eyes from the computer screen.

 

“Yes Catharine,” he replied not breaking his stride, “a short session today.”

 

“By design or insistence?” the reply returned, implying a greater insight to the situation than her precisely worded drawl let on.

 

“Does it really matter?” Anrion retorted, his eyes focused on the ascending numbers of the elevator. “We both know that she would be upset either way.”

 

The elevator softly chimed and the doors hissed open, accompanied by the click of approaching heels. The young man strode inside and turned, pressing the button to charter a path to the ground floor. His features still a mask of impartiality, he raised his raised his hand in a half salute, half wave to the two women.

 

“Anrion wait.” protested the psychiatrist.

 

“Catharine, Violet, do have a fine day. Adieu.”

 

 

In the lobby, Anrion witnessed a child scamper happily through a door, followed by his harried mother who managed a rushed “thank you” to the gentleman holding the door who followed the family out of the building, absently shutting the door on a man pushing a dolly laden with boxes. Further along his trip home a couple handed several twenty dollar bills to a man on the street corner while not giving the other destitutes nary a glance, missing the covetous glances shot towards the recent beneficiary. A man hailing a cab allowed an elderly couple to take the vehicle, only after a well disguised wrinkling of his at its stench and a wary appraisal of the cabbie. The world continued to saunter through its steps in the predestined dance, oblivious to the consequences.

 

 

The doorman opened politely nodded as Anrion walked into a boutique, sidling past a gaggle of women surrounding a mannequin wearing a small black dress. While he navigated the frumpy obstacle course, he called over the crowd of heads to a woman wearing a name tag identifying her as Alice.

 

“Yes Anrion?” the employee asked, simultaneously hanging copies of the mannequin’s black dress on a rack and directing a customer towards the dressing rooms.

 

“Is my mother in?” he asked, deftly manipulating one of the piled dresses onto a hanger.

 

“No I believe she said she’d be out this evening, some formal dinner I believe.” Alice replied, taking the proffered dress from Anrion’s hand. “You know you’re not supposed to handle the merchandise unless you’re wearing your prosthesis.”

 

“My mother specifically mentioned not handling merchandise without my prosthesis…in her presence. In addition, you and I both know that I perform at a higher standard without that lump of metal.”

 

Alice shot an irked glance at the young man, but plucked the offered hanger from him. “Fine. Heaven knows you’d only run off and bully Delilah or Samantha into letting you help them if I didn’t let you. Oh, and don’t think that you’re off the hook. You should still be meeting with Ms. May.”

 

“Guilt tripping me loses some of its edge when I know that the shop is short staffed and could use my help Alice,” came the cutting reply.

 

Alice shook her head, picking up her box and beginning to walk off towards a woman standing in front of a mirror holding several dresses which would never fit her in a remotely flattering manner. She paused to call back, “Oh, and your mother left some patterns upstairs for you to try out this evening.”

 

Her words fell on already deaf ears as Anrion had already begun busying himself with the issues of fabric, needle, and thread.

[Elsendor]

[[short Con postie!! Manga, let me know if I need to change anything, I just really wanted to get him back to the group so he can... do.... stuff.]]

• • • 

There is no excuse for weakness. Even the most cowardly of daemons are sure of themselves until faced with a power greater than their own.

 

But… I don’t want to feel pain anymore.

 

The straggler that limps up to the witch’s doorstep is a strange one, though his ilk is perhaps no stranger than that of those who have come before, seeking guidance, seeking wisdom, seeking healing. He stops, puzzled, for the sight of a cottage where a moment before he could discern nothing but forest is, in short, a very disconcerting thing. In fact, he is not entirely certain how he arrived here at all, and in his bewilderment he misses the flash of wings that retreats through the low, slanting shafts of sunset that pierce the green canopy above him. But the at the last silvery glint, he seems to return to himself.

 

Sunset. The most beautiful things bring the surest terror, he thought quietly to himself as he gathered his bearings. For a little while longer, the skies would burn, oppressive in its heavy oranges and reds, before quickly fading into black. Normally, he could at least rely on the light pollution from the city to diffuse, at least in part, the tangible sense of helplessness in the dark; the past twenty-four hours, however, had him doubting even the passage of the sun across the sky, never mind the electric lamps and LEDs of the city that would vanish at the flip of a switch. There was truly nothing he could rely on.

 

The little log cabin—he might even go so far as to call it a cottage—that had seemed to materialize in front of him caused him no small amount of unease; whether it was the childhood tales of gingerbread houses and wicked witches, or the association of strange cabins in the forest with serial killers, or maybe just a normal modern fear of the strange and unfamiliar, he couldn’t say. The crickets he had once found enchanting as a child began to sound threatening and the forests grew huge and ominous, rather than the grave, noble sages they’d once been.

 

In other words, he began to panic. He knocked on the door, quickly, urgently, his knuckles leaving spots of frost in the grain of the wood that spread slowly as he continued his plea for entry. Please, please—someone be here.

Edited March 1, 2012 by Elsendor

[Kenosis]

The hunt had begun. From the hidden places of the city the demons poured forth, some emerging from the subways, others from basements, tearing though abandoned buildings while still others dropped out of the sky. Their hated enemies rose to meet them. Desperate to protect the human populace, the Umbralatronis met the demonic charge head on, descending into the dark places or shooting them from the sky. It was all according to plan of course.

 

Quietly, the second stage of the plan was sprung. Confident in both the Umbralatronis’ overreaction to the threat posed to New York City and the waning of their enemy’s strength, a large assault was thrown against the Umbralatronis’ mansion. This was not the only aspect of the demons’ grab for the hybrids, however.

 

“Why master? We wish to join in the hunt. The slaughter.” The oschaert whined, its red eyes dancing as it turned anxious circles in a deserted back alley.

 

A man dropped off the roof of the building behind the oschaert, his feet making no sound as they touched the ground. Following his lead, five more dark shapes rained from the sky, claws skittering against the pavement.

 

“Do you really question the directives of our LORD?” the man replied, leaning back against the wall of the building nonchalantly.

 

The oschaert dropped its head briefly in submission. “No Master. We-” A growl from within the pack cut it short. “…I wish to taste blood this evening, not shepherd manlings.”

 

“That can be arranged,” came the light reply, as the figure against the wall shifted, shadows coalescing.

 

The oschaert’s eyes narrowed, attempting to determine where its master truly was. Suddenly, a rush of wind disturbed the motionless night. The oschaert whirled, surveying the members of its pack. Nothing. Then, it tasted blood.

 

A sickening squelch cut through the panting and scratching as the man tore his hand from the demon’s throat. “There, now you no longer have to shepherd manlings and I have given you the taste of blood. Truly I must be a good and gracious master.”

 

He tossed the corpse behind him and left the alley. A whine emitted from the pack, questioning. “Very well,” he acquiesced, “but do keep it quiet and make it fast. We have greater concerns.”

 

A fine handkerchief emerged from the man’s pocket, carefully wiping his bloodied hand down. A slight chuckle escaped his lips, slowly growing to a melodious laughter which covered the snapping and tearing of flesh from bone.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

 

The petulant question rang out as three figures hurtled over the New York City skyline. Although the sun had long since fallen beneath the horizon, flashes of light, a thunderstorm without the sound, illuminated the night.

 

“You know as well as I,” another replied, “the attack was too well organized, too focused, this gaping hole must serve a purpose. They don’t want us to be here.”

 

“So we’re going to ruin their ****in’ day.” This voice contrasted the previous two, coarse instead of melodious, choppy instead of flowing.

 

“There!” the first voice called out, rising above the cacophony of the streets below. The three accelerated, moving past a speed which could be recognized as human, rapidly descending from the rooftops to a dank alley.

 

“Good eyes, Andrew,” the second voice congratulated, bending her willowy frame to inspect the smear of blood and fragments of bone.

 

“Yeah, couldn’t ya have told us four minutes earlier? The ***s just left.” The owner of the third voice stood at the end of the alley, staring out at the street. “It’s only five ****in’ dogs.”

 

“It was six,” the slender woman replied, rubbing some of the blood between two of her fingers while holding a bone fragment out for the third party member.

 

“I know,” the coarse voice spat, whirling to face the others. “Give me that.” She seized the fragment and paced away from the mouth of the alley. Hesitating, she glanced over her shoulder at her companions’ amused faces.

 

“Look can’t ya give a girl a moment of privacy to handle her business?”

 

Andrew snickered, attempting to inexpertly cover his action. The other female placed her hand on his shoulder, firmly turning him away from his embarrassed compatriot. “Sorry Cole,” she apologized, a touch of a smile hovering on her lips, “We’ll let you have your moment.”

 

“It’s not a moment,” the young woman halfheartedly protested, “and my name is Collette.”

 

Her back, however, was already turned on the others and her eyes locked on the blood-speckled bone. Slowly, reverently, the rib was raised towards her face. A hiss escaped her, an excited exhalation which escaped suppression as her tongue touched the fragment.

 

Then she was done. “Gah!” Collette exclaimed, tossing the bone which she’d held so reverently only a few moments ago into a dumpster. “Doggies taste ****in’ awful!”

 

“So Cole, was your personal session satisfying?” Andrew asked, deftly stepping behind the taller female and out of the prickly hunter’s path.

 

“Shut up you two!” their leader interjected, “This is not the time to screw off! Cole, we need you tracking the pack, not jawing.” She whirled to face Andrew, seizing the front of his jacket and glaring down at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

 

In spite of the personal friction, the three moved almost as one, sprinting for the edge of the alley with Collette in the lead. The streets on this side of the city were mostly deserted and the Umbralatronis, fully in pursuit of the pack, threw caution to the winds, racing through the streets and over the rooftops. Collette stopped.

 

“Aw hell’s bloody bells,” she exclaimed as the others skidded to a halt beside her.

 

“What is it?” the leader asked.

 

“There’s a hybrid Inara, close by. That’s why they left such a gap in their attack, they’re hunting hybrids.”

 

“Dammit,” Inara exclaimed, “Cole, get there now! We’ll catch up to you as soon as possible.”

 

Collette tore off into the evening, accelerating far past the speed previously demonstrated by the group and leaving the other two Umbralatronis far behind.

 

“Don’t do anything too stupid…” Inara muttered as she and Andrew raced after her.

 

 

[Mangaholic]

OoC// Bump

[jaina]

Shirayuki Amane

 

The Summer fey broke into something close to a run for the trees. They were almost there, almost to the cover of safety—if such could be called safety. He explained, his words unpunctuated by the lack of heavy breathing: “As allies of the Umbralatronis, we are obligated to help you.” He suddenly stopped, turning around to stare keenly into the gold-flecked eyes of the mixed-breed. The blazing fire behind her reflected in his own golden irises. His lips pulled back to reveal straight, white teeth in a sinister smile. “Unless you are saying that you are our enemy.”

 

Shirayuki exhaled loudly through her nose, nearly snorting, and the assumption the fae directed at her. Her indignation had instantly surged from nearly nonexistent to incredibly previlant. To her credit, she didn't show any beyond the initial huff. She also was proud to manage her sudden feeling of tightness in her gut at the fae's wicked smile. Locking eyes with the fae she was quick to address him with as much firmness as she had available at the moment, which, to her surprise was a fair amount as she spoke to him. "I said nothing that should even imply that to you, I only asked to confirm if you'll want myself and the other hybrids to save the world as this prophecy supposedly goes," Shira said.

 

It took nearly all her remaining will power to walk past the fae and continue straight along the path they had been taking. She may not have had a damn idea where they really were, but she was going to make the fae lose face this time, it would go a long way towards leveling the field in further conversations between them if she forced him to guide her rather than waiting for him to do so.

Edited June 1, 2012 by jaina

[Mangaholic]

BUMP

[jaina]

((So has this truly died or would there be a possibility of some form of revival?))

[Elsendor]

A year later, I still vote revival. :3

[Elsendor]

4 years later, i still poke to make sure this remains in the archives <.<

[jaina]

4 years later, i still poke to make sure this remains in the archives <.<

You aren't the only one who would have liked to see this continue.