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    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    Absol197's Avatar

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    Apr 2011
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    Default I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Hey everyone!

    I used to love to write, but I stopped doing it nearly a decade ago now. However, recently, a new friend on another forum got me back into it, and I've been bitten by the bug - HARD! This is a setting I've been designing in my head for well over a year, and getting it down on paper (so to speak) has been very satisfying. I thought I'd share it with you, see what you guys think .

    Right now it's a series of disconnected scenes, but I think the overarching story comes through very well. They're in the order I wrote them, not chronological order. I prefer the order I originally wrote them in, but if you'd like the chronological order, here it is. The numbers in brackets are the post numbers for finding the scenes:

    "Hatching" [2]
    "Talking it Through" [15]
    "Lost and Found" [17 & 18]
    "Naming" [21 (currently unfinished)]
    "Flying Lessons" [1]
    "Virial and Kyrala" [1]
    "Day Off" [11]
    "Reunion" [3 & 4]
    Excerpt [27]
    "Homecoming" [19 & 20; non-canon]
    "Fallen" [7 & 8]
    "Postlude" [10]

    The first one is sort of a primer on how the world works, and isn't part of the actual chronology (although it's told from the same character's perspective).

    I hope you enjoy!
    (Also, quick note; I've done minimal editing on these, so there are definitely going to be some typos, bad grammar, and my nemesis, repetition! I'll comb through and correct stuff as I get the time. Sorry in advance!)

    "Mauna Primer"
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    Dragons. Their image appears in every culture in the world and throughout history. Isn't that funny? I mean, it sure speaks a lot to the human subconscious that all of us, everywhere, have this same fanciful beast in our mythology. What a funny coincidence, huh?

    Except, it's not a coincidence. Dragons are real. In fact, we're you. Well, sort of.

    Now, bear in mind, I can't tell you everything - we're bound by old laws that there are some things we can't tell mortals, and there's even laws of physics, what some of us jokingly call the "Conservation of Ignorance," that prevents me from telling you some other things. But I'll try my best with what I know.

    This is the Age of Man - 50,000 years ago, give or take a few thousand, our kind saw a brightness in you, a kinship in man that no other creature that had come before could match. Like us, you had the gift of awareness, of knowledge. We thought we could help you, and you us, so we gave you the gift of fire, began to teach you. We even bound ourselves to you, so that each of us would henceforth be born of man.

    But that doesn't really tell you what you need to know, does it? You don't even know what we are yet. Yeah, sure, dragons. But that word describes our shape, but not our essence. The word that describes who we are and what we do best might be "angel." We're in-between, half mortal and half divine. The DIVINE itself created us to guard this world - our precious Jewel. It crafted our form with exacting care, so that we might be the greatest of all beasts - we have the armor and jaws of the crocodile; the grace and power of the hunting cat; the eyes of the eagle, the swift flight of the sparrow; the mind of man; the size of the great dinosaurs. And into this vessel the DIVINE poured a bit of itself, giving us our Sparks, and the mantle of servitude. We are guardians, protectors, and we have served in this stead for vast eons. But we are dying.

    What did I mean that we are you? That we are born of man? Good question. We may be male and female, but we don't mate with each other to make offspring. Our spirits, our Sparks, cannot be recreated in such a...mortal manner. There are always the same number of us. 3,039 of us, in fact. No, I don't know why it's that specific number. Maybe my predecessor does, I'll ask her about it sometime...When we die, our Sparks don't go on to the afterlife (yes, there's an actual afterlife; no, I don't know what it's like, I've never been) like a mortal soul does. It finds new life, reborn into this world. We live the first several years, usually a decade or two, as a human, unaware of our true nature. But as we age, our spirit grows faster than our body, and soon, our true self emerges. The Hatching, we call it. The human shape we'd worn all those years is revealed to be only our second skin, a mask, a disguise we can wear at any time, but our true form is that of the great creature the DIVINE shaped us into.

    And then, well, we have to find our way. But we have help. The Spark of divine power we have within us gives us lots of abilities. We're fast, and very, very strong. We can read minds, see the future. Control the elements, too. A bunch of other things, I can't tell you all of it. Even do some regular old magic, too, although I'm no good at it yet. We have our brothers and sisters to help us, to guide us, but we get the most help from our predecessors. You see, when our Sparks find new birth, the little bit of divinity in us prevents our memories from being erased. Our past lives live on, and we can talk to them. They're still us, the same soul, just a different...iteration, I guess. It's hard to explain if you haven't experienced it. Heck, it's hard to understand even when you have! It's like there are a dozen different yous in your head, each with different memories. The current you is still in charge, the others kinda stay in the back until you call for them, but they're always there. And they're a great source of information, once you learn to call them up.

    What's that? Why are we dying? Well...that's a tough one. I'm really not supposed to tell you that - it involves things Man Is Not Meant To Know, and I'm not being dramatic. Trust me.

    ...Well, okay, but don't forget that I warned you...
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    Have you heard of the Cretaceous-Paleogene Extinction Event? It's the one that killed the dinosaurs. Yeah, that was us. Me, in fact, in a life long, long past. Nearly 80-percent of all life on the planet died from that, most of it that day, and believe it or not, that was so much better a result than we ever could have hoped for. It wasn't an asteroid or a meteor that hit Earth that day. A...thing, a monster...had come from the Far Places, and was careening towards the planet. We have seven Watchtowers at the borders to the Far Places to keep vigil for incursions into our world, and they're layered with the strongest magics and most powerful divine workings we can muster to protect our Jewel from harm. But this thing? It blasted through them like they were nothing. It was...awful. Worse than you can even imagine. Take the worst Lovecraftian horror you can imagine and then realize that thing is an ant compared to the T-Rex that this beast was. If it had reached Earth, the planet would have stopped existing in all places and all times. It would have devoured the entire essence of the world's past, present, and future. Not only would we no longer exist, we would never have existed, and we would have never existed in the most unimaginably awful way.

    Every single one of us came out to meet this thing in battle. Half of us died in the first few seconds. My past life realized that we couldn't stop it, that we had only two choices - divert it away from Earth and back into the void, or trap it within itself so it couldn't devour the world and would instead crash into it. Diverting it would save untold lives, but my past life realized that it would simply come back before we had recuperated enough, and then the extra fifty or sixty years wouldn't matter - those years would be erased so that they never happened, too. So we ensnared it in as many spells and workings as we could, and we did it. The beast emerged into this dimension and was unable to act. Instead of annihilating the Earth, it slammed into it like a wrecking ball. We expected it to shatter the world to pieces. An agonizing loss, but at least our history would still have been intact. But we were luckier than we could ever have hoped to be - our Jewel survived, and some of the life on it too!

    Every single one of us died in that battle. It took me twenty lifetimes before I forgave myself the guilt of making the choice I had to make. But things returned to normal. The world was changed, yes, but life finds a way.

    And soon, to us at least, man appeared, and we saw in them much of us. I told you this part already, we gave you fire, and decided we would all be reborn as men from then on in solidarity with you. But that was our mistake. You see, I never said we killed the great beast - only defeated it, wrapped it in such magics that it could never act or escape. But it was still there, and it had been working its insidious influence on our world ever since that day. Man was its creation, incremental evolution engineered to entrap us, and it worked. Even our greatest seers and spiritualists didn't see the Sickness that was in man; a spiritual malady designed to infect us, to weaken our Sparks. As man grew more and more populous, the Sickness spread, and soon, we started extinguishing.

    Now, we die all the time. That's not much for us, because we'll be reborn. But when our Sparks are extinguished...then we're gone. And not "gone to the afterlife" like you, but gone gone. The DIVINE will create a new Spark, a newly forged soul to replace the one that has been lost, but the memories and the skill that our lost brother or sister carried, oftentimes a hundred-million years of memories, is irretrievable. By the time we started dying off, it was too late. Soon, there won't even be enough power to create new Sparks to replace those we lose. And when the last of us is gone and can't be replaced, the great beast will be free.

    I'm the last, in more ways than one. I'm the last of the original Sparks that the DIVINE created when this world began, but I'm also the last life that my soul will lead. My predecessor thought she'd be the last, and was very surprised to wake up again. I'll not get that luxury.

    And here's the thing - knowing this is dangerous. The great beast grows stronger the more people know if it, and its Sickness spreads further and faster; the bonds of its cage strain tighter and thinner. It's trying to get out, trying to let more and more people know about it, and now that you know, it's in your mind. It'll try and get you to spread that information, to infect others, so you can spread the Sickness and kill us off quicker. So sorry about this - you're a nice person, but I've got the fate of the world to look after...


    "Virial and Kyrala"
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    I sank into my meditation, letting my breathing guide me into that place of connections and remembrance. It was lucky my Balance was getting better, or else the anger and frustration coursing through my mind would have made the focus I needed impossible; but as it was, it’s presence, though acknowledged, did little to interfere with the ritual.

    Soon I felt everything click into place, my mind hovering between the real world and the shores of my Astral Realm. I opened my eyes (on the inside, at least), surveying the thick, opalescent mists that swirled slowly around me. “Kyrala,” I whispered, putting a small effort of will into my voice. In the mindscape around me, the tiny sound was amplified, bursting out in a wave that caused a noticeable tremor in the clinging mists.

    “It appears I may be in trouble.” As always, she appeared the instant I called, winding her way gracefully out of the fog, moving with speed and poise that her enormous frame should never be able to achieve. I studied her again, the fabled Guardian at the Watchtower. She was well over three hundred feet long from the tip of her snout to the end of her tail—slender, sinuous, and agile. Her shape suggested that of a snake, a stalking panther, and a slender deer, yet somehow these qualities thrived together, combining to become more than themselves. Her scales were purest white and glittered like diamonds, throwing back light in every color imaginable. Large golden horns crowned her head, and a crest of silvery fur ran the length of her back, all the way down the tail. She looked an awful lot like me. A bigger, more elegant, more brilliant me, but I could recognize my own budding features in hers.

    She twined around me, spinning in two quick circles before coming to rest. As she spun, the mists around us swirled and a simple room materialized out of the mental landscape. It looked like an old log cabin, a warm, roaring fire in the stone fireplace, comfortable rugs layering the floor. It was night outside, but the gentle werelight glistening off the snowy pines suggested we were in the mountains somewhere. I didn’t recognize the room; it was a manifestation of somewhere from her past, no doubt. Although she would never have been able to fit as her true self in the real cabin, the physics of the Astral Realms allowed it to appear both small and cozy and still house two dragons quite comfortably.

    As she settled down, I resisted the urge to look around and instead stared as intently as I could into her eyes. They were two giant saucers of gleaming diamond, blazing with their own inner light, fierce and powerful yet warm and comforting at the same time. I couldn’t let myself get distracted from what I had come here to do. She had chosen this setting quite deliberately and I couldn’t let it affect me.

    We stared at each other for some time, until finally she smiled and blinked first. “It is always nice to speak with you, Vi,” she said.

    “My name is Virial,” I declared firmly, not allowing my gaze to shift. “You should use it.” I could hear the simmering anger creeping into my words, but I didn’t care enough right then to bring it under control. “Make the cabin go away, this isn’t that kind of talk.”

    “As you wish, Lady Virial,” she bowed her head, and the rustic cabin melted away back into mist. Instead, I was standing on a simple, featureless wooden floor. Darkness surrounded us, with only two shafts of light drifting down to provide illumination, one for each of us. Mine covered me completely; hers only covered her head and a bit of her neck, as the rest of her length curled out around me in to the blackness. She looked up, a hint of understanding on her expression. “I do apologize for…”

    “No!” I snarled, the anger boiling over. I stood, my back arched and my own bronze-furred crest rising. “That is not good enough! What you did was unacceptable!” My whiskers whipped back and forth with fury as I continued to stare her down.

    My display of aggression had no effect on her, of course. She was just a spirit, a memory, and I couldn’t hurt her. And even if she had still been real, her power dwarfed mine so utterly that I was less than an ant to her. But a look of pain and sorrow cross her face for a moment. “I know. And I’m saying I’m sorry.”

    “I’m not your mouthpiece for you to speak through whenever you d--n well please!” I raged, trying to ignore the wave of empathy I felt for her. I didn’t know if she could still use the divine skills in her state, but it sure felt like she was pushing feelings on me. Of course, since she was me… “This is my life! Mine! You had yours, and it’s over. I’m in charge now—I’m the one who chooses when to draw my Spark, not you. If you want to say something, you tell me what it is and I’ll pass it along if I feel it’s important!”

    As I spoke she nodded slowly, agreeing silently. She remained quiet for a short while after I finished. Finally, she asked “May I speak?”

    Having said my piece, I forced myself to reign in my anger, to Balance it back against my focus. I nodded.

    “I owe you an apology, and for much more than just my behavior earlier today,” she admitted. Then she did something I’d never seen her do – in a flash of white mist, she donned her second skin, shrinking down into her human shape.

    Like her true self, her human form was beautiful and elegant (I was a redhead in my past life, I noted absently). She possessed a refined and ageless beauty, her olive skin flawless, her curtain of long hair flowing down her back. She wore a simple violet dress, and sat demurely in her little pool of light. She looked up at me, so small now; her eyes were still shimmering diamond-white, but they no longer shone from within, and I saw in her face something I never expected: shame, fear, uncertainty.

    “I’ve not been an especially helpful guide for you, I know,” she admitted, dropping her gaze as she fidgeted lightly with the end of her skirt. “The way that our brothers and sisters see me…”

    “You’re a legend. An icon,” I said with exasperation. I’d heard all this before. “The Guardian at the Watchtower…”

    She nodded without looking up. “Yes. I am, and I have been for a very long time. That is my legacy, and, for better or worse, as my inheritor it is how you will be judged by them as well.” She looked up, a sad smile playing on her lips. “For all that we are, we often forget that others of our kind are not their pasts, any more than we ourselves are our own!”

    Her smile faded and she shook her head. “But I knew that that’s what they would see you as, even though you are not me. So I tried to show you what they saw me as, to inspire you and give you an example, and a goal to strive towards. I wanted to show you the goddess, the great protector. The Guardian that you could be, shining beacon for the others of our kind to follow.

    “But I see now that wasn’t what you needed, wasn't the best way to help you.” She looked up again, her eyes meeting mine softly. “I wasn’t being honest with you. The image of me that they see is not who I am, and never really was.” She smiled. “Please forgive me—while discovering that you’re Mauna is always a major adjustment for anyone, this has also been a significant adjustment for me. I have to get used to my new role in death, just as you need to get used to your new role in life. I apologize that it’s taken me this long to realize it.”

    I padded forward slowly, my pool of light trailing me as I came closer and stood in front of her. “I…” I stuttered, unsure of what to say. “I...Of course I forgive you.” I leaned forward, brushing my cheek past hers.

    She melted into the gesture, raising her arms to embrace my neck, her fingers twining through the fur of my crest. “Thank you. You have my word I will not interfere again unless you ask.”

    Laying down at her side, I appraised her again. She looked the same, but completely different. Part of it was this place—in the mindscape, your perceptions define your reality, and my view of her had changed. She wasn’t Lady Kyrala, the Diamond Dragon, Last Guardian at the Watchtower any longer, not an icon emblazoned in burning glory across the heavens. Instead, she was just a person, another of the Mauna, a sister like any other. Although still me, of course.

    “It’s very lonesome,” she admitted. “The Watchtower. Lonesome and aimless, and on occasion, frightening. They have this image in their minds of me as a stalwart defender, standing endless vigil against the beasts and monsters of the Far Places. But that’s not how it is.” She slid over to lean against my side, her eyes far away, remembering. “There are rarely more than one or two events per century, and most of them are destroyed or deterred by the old wards, so the only thing I needed to do was take a few minutes to check that nothing had slipped through. But…”

    I could feel her shiver, and a cold chill ran down my spine as well, an echo of the memory she was reliving. “On those occasions when something big did arrive…it was terrifying. Even with all my strength, those battles would leave me inches from death, hanging on by no more than the final embers of my Spark. Bruised, beaten, often missing limbs, scarred both physically and psychically. Even with my perfect mastery of Healing it would take me years to recover.

    “And then I would sit there, alone and forgotten, as my Jewel spun on without me. The only thing I had were our pasts. I spent fifty-three centuries in that Watchtower, more than half my life. And most of that time I spent talking with those who came before us.”

    She gave a breathy laugh, entirely without humor. “With so much time, I could spend decades simply wandering through the memories of one person, seeing what she saw, reflecting with her on the events our soul had experienced. They became more than just my guides and teachers. They were my friends, comforting me in my loneliness as I wiled away my life in that place. And when an abomination broke through our barriers, they were my comrades in arms, lending their skill to my fight and driving me onward when hope failed. Five thousand, three-hundred and eighty-seven years, and I spent it all talking to myself…”

    She signed, and was quiet for some time. I could feel there was more she wanted to say, so I waited, feeling my breathing and hers. Despite the different in our sizes, our breaths and heartbeats were perfectly in sync.

    “Eventually, I didn’t see the point,” she continued, a note of bitterness in her voice. “I was the last, or so I thought. I never expected to recur again.” She turned to look me in the eye. “I was very surprised when you woke up!” She turned back, her gaze drifting away. “The great beast was winning, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Our brothers and sisters have lost too much strength from the Sickness—if they could live a hundred lives longer and gain more experience and power we might stand a chance, but as it was, we had no hope. Very few of them even know about the great beast and the Sickness, anyway; they’re too mortal, it would be able to spread through them, so I kept them unaware.

    “Our pasts kept me going, lifting me up and bolstering my resolve, even after hope was long gone and despair had taken hold of me. For nearly thirty centuries, I spend all the time I wasn’t fighting or visiting Earth in my second skin—I didn’t feel like the savior I was supposed to be, so I hid my true self, even though there was no one there to see it.” She look up momentarily. “This form is more who I am than the one they think of me as, than the body you burned last year…”

    She signed once more. “I was lost in the past, waiting out the present until I would finally expire, dreading a future that would never happen. Awakening as your guide may have been an adjustment for me, but I was a ghost long before you were born.” Finality hung heavy in her words; that was the end of her story, for now at least. We would have lots of time together for the rest of it, what little it sounded like there would be.

    “I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea.”

    “I know,” she nodded. “Our brothers and sisters have no idea, so I wouldn’t expect you to know until just now.”

    I hesitated, not sure I wanted to ask the question that was on my mind. “So…we’ve lost?” I ask tentatively. “The great beast has won, we can’t stop it?”

    “I didn’t say that.” She sat up, pivoting to face me directly. “About two centuries ago, several of us—me and our pasts—stumbled across some clues scattered throughout our various lives. Individually, they were meaningless; disconnected points, hardly worthy of interest or consideration. But looking at them together, shortening the oceans of time so we might view them properly, we found a…path, I guess you could call it. A way to purge the Sickness from humanity so that it could continue and we could flourish once again.”

    “That’s great!” I exclaimed, springing to my feet. “How—wait…” There was no excitement in her voice or pose, only resignation and a hint of sadness. “You don’t seem happy about that.”

    She shook her head, her fiery hair shimmering. “No, I’m not. The plan we developed would take time to put into motion. And there would be…consequences.” She looked me in the eye. “The great beast is cunning, more than you can understand yet. It didn’t see this loophole, but it is still well protected. It’s only because it doesn’t understand sacrifice that it missed the possibility. You see, purging humanity of the Sickness is possible, but the things that are necessary to do it would be…abominable. A disgusting betrayal of everything we hold dear, and to the purpose that we strive to uphold.”

    “Our mantle,” I said in grim understanding. “The sacrifice. We would have to give up our mantle to succeed.”

    She nodded. “Yes. It took me a while before I could finally make the decision that I was willing to pay that price. We don’t just lose our power when we lose our mantle, we lose our Spark.”

    “But if it saves the world…”

    “But losing my—apologies, our—Spark also means losing the connection to our past lives,” she said. “They meant everything to me. They still do. Millennia spent with no one else but them to comfort me? To care for me? The loss of my power is something I could bear. It wasn’t power I wanted any longer; the loss of my Immortality alone was temptation enough! But to lose our pasts, my friends…it took time for me to accept that. We don’t know where our pasts go when someone loses their mantle. Do they merge with us, still there but inaccessible? Or are they extinguished, like a Spark that burns out? I didn’t want to consign them to oblivion.

    “But eventually, accept it I did, and we worked towards setting the pieces in place. Unfortunately, I ran out of time.” A sad smile played across her lips. “Seven-thousand, two-hundred and twenty-eight years, the most of it spent idling away lost in memory, and then as soon as I find my purpose again I run right out.” She looked at me, the inner shine returning to her diamond eyes. “I didn’t expect to wake up again, I thought I was going to extinguish, and that our Jewel’s last hope was gone. That I’d been a failure. But you're still here. We’ve still got that chance. The pieces are in place; another twenty years or so and it’ll be time.

    “But,” she stopped. “Like I said, what needs to be done is horrifying, and I’m no longer in charge. This, as you so rightly claimed, is your life now. I made the choice to do what is necessary no matter the cost to my soul, but my time ended before the moment came to reap the consequences of that decision. You are a new person, and I can’t make that choice for you. I’ll tell you what you have to do, and then it’s up to you…”


    "Flying Lessons"
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    “Turn, milady! Turn!”

    If I hadn’t been hurtling through the air at nearly sixty miles per hour, I would likely have remarked at the obviousness of his advice, but as it was, I couldn’t bring myself to devote the attention necessary for repartee. I did, however, twist my body, aiming my nose to the left and whipping my tail out to the right. Despite this, the rushing column of wind propelling me did not change direction as I had hoped, and all I accomplished with my maneuver was to slam into the tower wall broadside, rather than face-first.

    While that was probably for the best, in the moment it didn’t really seem that way.

    There was a loud crack, and I felt the shock of the impact rippling through my side. My armor absorbed some of the force and dispersed much more in that mystical way it had, but the rest penetrated deep as the air rushed from my lungs. The sharp spike of pain when I drew in my breath told me I had likely fractured at least one rib.

    Now all I had left to do was fall sixty feet to the ground below. Excellent.

    Thankfully, Abraxas had not been idle. After shouting his warning he dashed across the open field and then up the side of the tower, his razor-sharp claws finding easy purchase as he climbed. We crossed halfway to the ground, and his tail lashed out and wrapped around my torso, slowing my fall for a few crucial seconds before my weight peeled him off the tower and he tumbled down with me.

    “Ow,” I observed, lying motionless for a several moments as he wriggled to untangle himself. “Thanks for not trying to catch me with your horns. That probably would have hurt a lot more.”

    “I considered it for a moment, but I realized it might be unwise to have you landing on my head, Lady Vi,” he smiled.

    “See, what I just heard was you calling me fat,” I said as I slowly tried to push myself up. Shooting pain greeted my attempt. Definitely cracked ribs. My Healing was already kicking in, but leaving it alone it would take nearly a week to recover by itself. So I concentrated as I’d been taught, feeling the pathways of life energy as they wound through me. It wasn’t hard to find the places where the pathways knotted, and I began to slowly and careful pick those knots apart.

    Abraxas laughed at my words, his deep, rich, booming voice echoing across the peak. “Well, you have already grown as big as any of us, Lady Vi,” he admitted. Despite nearly a century since his Hatching, his smooth, French-African accent still tinted his words. I had always loved Abraxas’s voice; it was easy to listen to, and that made it easy to learn from him.

    As I unknotted my energy to quicken the healing process, I looked him over. Lord Abraxas was the oldest Spark currently in existence, aside from my own. He had more than a dozen lives behind him, and when my people had found me a year and a half ago, scared and uncertain, there had been no consideration of anyone else as my instructor.

    His most notable and striking feature was the massive horns that sprouted from his head, looking like nothing less than the rack of a gigantic elk. They were yellow-green except for the two dozen tapered points, which faded to dark, dusty grey. His claws and teeth were the same grey color, and it meant that those weapons could pierce through just about any material. He was stockier than most Mauna I had met, with a short snout and thick, strong legs, although he still possessed a measure of our ubiquitous sinuous grace. A massive mane of brown fur erupted from behind his horns, but unlike my crest it barely reached his back before fading into short spikes that continued to the end of his tail. His scales were the color of burnished bronze, but the barest hint of gold sparkled off them when the light hit them just right.

    “You are getting better!” He assured me as he padded back out to the middle of the field. “Have you determined what you were getting wrong?”

    “Umm…is it learning to fly on the side of a mountain?” I asked. “I think that could qualify as a mistake. Also, what definition of “better” are you using? I don’t think, ‘Crash into the side of the tower at highway speeds’ is part of mine.”

    “Ah, Lady Vi!” He exclaimed. “You got off the ground and were up for almost a minute!” He smirked. “Now come; you must have an idea?”

    I shook my head, and instantly regretted it as my work at fixing my ribs immediately came undone. “Nope,” I flinched. “‘Don’t crash’ is pretty much the only lesson I’ve learned today.”

    He sighed. “You must learn to judge your own progress, Lady Vi.” But he continued, “You are treating the Air like it is Fire.”

    “Well, yeah, isn’t that how it works?” I asked, only half paying attention. The energy flowing through my third rib was knotted extremely tight, and it was taking much of my focus to untangle it. “Fire is powered by Passion and controlled by Serenity; Air is powered by Awareness and controlled by Focus. The circle is the first thing I learned with you.”

    “Yes,” he admitted nodding, “but it is more than just doing the same thing with different aspects of your mind. Fire is stoked by Passion, and drawn along the path you choose for it by Serenity. But Air does not need to be stoked, it does not need to be created. It is already there! Awareness is more than just perception, Lady Vi, it is also understanding. That is the essence of Air.” He paused, giving me a moment to reflect on his words. “You have strong Passions, and you have determination and will, perfect for fueling your Fire. That is likely why you are Fire aspected, it comes naturally to you.”

    “Yeah, well, maybe if you had a perfect goddess hanging around in your head all day telling you want to do, you might have a bit more Passion, too…” I said absently. “And by the way, how do you know about this? Isn’t your element Earth? You can’t even do this stuff!”

    “Amalia was Air aspected,” he assured me. “I spent all last night having her teach me the theory.” He smiled again. “I am just as capable as any other to teach you to fly.”

    Not yet ready to resume the lesson (ow.), I continued with another question that had been nagging at me for some time. “So, why is your predecessor a lady? As far as I can tell, I’ve been a woman since there were dinosaurs, and most everyone else seems to be the same way. What’s up with you?”

    He grinned. He knew I was stalling, but he indulged my curiosity anyway. “I change, a man in one life, a woman in the next. That is what my soul needs.” He looked me in the eye, his own glinting orange orbs flashing from within. “Each of us is unique, no two alike. There have been others changing souls like me, although we are rare.” His face turned serious. “And do not disparage the Lady Kyrala. She did much for our people.”

    “She’s wonderful, alright,” I agreed. “She wastes no time telling me so every time I see her.”

    “You will come to understand each other in time, Lady Vi, I have no doubts,” he assured me. “One must simply learn to balance who one was with who one is now.”

    A quick, sharp buzzing sounded twice, and Abraxas turned his head. “Ah, we are being summoned,” he noted, as he padded his way over to a large stone resting at the side of the cliff face. “You may yet have more time to tend to you injury.” As he walked, luminous orange-bronze mist rose from his hide, growing thicker and thicker as it hovered an inch from his armor, until it collapsed in on itself, changing his form to his second skin. He reached down and picked up the device that had been resting on the stone, considering it.

    “Really, Brax? A cell phone? Aren’t you, like, a hundred years old?” I teased, walking gingerly towards him.

    “One-hundred and sixteen, yes,” he agreed. “And still young enough to climb walls and catch smart-mouthed hatchlings as they fall. I think I can handle a little of man’s artifice, no matter how complex it might get!” He paused. “Wait, how do you turn this gizmo on again?” He waited a beat, then looked at me and laughed, deep and rumbling, reveling in his little joke. His voice wasn’t quite as powerful in his second skin – it lost much of the richness and resonance that it had in his true form, but it was still warm and his laugh was infectious.

    His fingers flew deftly across the phone, showing he clearly did know how to use it, and then he stopped to read the message. “It appears we are wanted by Lord Dallan. Let’s go.” He slipped the phone into the pocket of his khaki shorts, then the mist-like energy rose from his chocolate skin once more, returning him to his true form with a rushing noise.

    “You don’t think he wants me to fix the tower, do you?” I asked, unsure of whether I was joking or not.

    The tower I had slammed into had been built by our people millennia ago; some of them had told me that Kyrala had fashioned it herself, ripping it right out of the mountainside, but Brax had told me that wasn’t true. He was in tune with the earth, and he could tell from its construction that, while it might have been built with our power, it wasn’t by a single person.

    It was used, now and always, as a meeting place far from human civilization, and a place where new hatchlings were trained. Some old Craft still lived in its bones, and there were a bunch of tricks that could be called up if needed, including whisking someone away to just about anywhere in the world. Getting back was always a problem, but if you needed to get somewhere in a rush…

    “Come, Lady Vi, keep up!” Abraxas encouraged as he paced ahead of me up the giant spiraling staircase.

    “Remind me again how many ribs you cracked?” I panted. But the meeting hall was only a floor above us by that point, and I made it to the landing only a few (dozen) seconds behind him. We walked together through the archway into the meeting hall, the sunken stage in the center circled by twelve tiered rows. Three Mauna were there, two males and a female. I only recognized one of the males, although I was sure I’d be making the others’ acquaintances soon.

    “Lord Abraxas! Lady Virial! Please, come!” Dallan urged. Where Abraxas was strong and stocky, Dallan was long, slim, and streamlined, like many Air-aspected I knew. Maybe that’s why flying came so easy to them, I wondered idly. His scales gleamed sunset-orange, and his short, straight horns were white laced with a touch of silver. “These are Lady Shuey-Lien, and her advisor Nordun.”

    “My Lady Virial, it is a pleasure to meet you at last,” Shuey-Lien said, bowing deeply. Her voice rippled like water, subtle and elegant.

    “Uh, yeah, likewise,” I said, nodding.

    “Please forgive Lady Virial,” Dallan urged, casting me a disapproving glance as my informal tone. “She is young, and still has much to learn.”

    “Think nothing of it,” Shuey-Lien returned. “I am simply honored to be in the presence of the Guardian’s Inheritor. You have much to live up to, My Lady.” She smiled at me. “And I trust you will make us all proud.”

    “Yes, I’m trying my best,” I said, attempting to force some regality into my voice. “I’m learning to fly right now, as a matter of fact. My second Element.”

    “Indeed? Well, perhaps I can teach you the ways of Water, as we may have need of your skills.”

    “Lady Shuey-Lien is from Ahlmaltis,” Lord Dallan explained. “It’s a city of ours that we constructed on the sea floor of the Mediterranean a little over ten centuries ago…”

    “Wait, wait, hold on,” I interrupted. “Ahlmaltis? You mean there really is an Atlantis?”

    “Yes,” the Water dragon replied, smiling. “It’s a wondrous place! But we’ve been having trouble, as I’ve been explaining to Lord Dallan. A rift in the Veil has opened nearby, and spirits have been crossing over into this realm, causing havoc with the ecosystem. The rift has been known to us for a while—it opened perhaps a century ago—but there’s been little to no activity until now. As the three most experienced of our kind, I was hoping to convince Lord Dallan, Lord Abraxas, and yourself to join me to help seal the rift.” Noting the uncertain look on my face, she added quickly, “Don’t worry, we have talismans for those who can’t normally breathe underwater.”

    “Oh,” I said. “Umm, good.” I looked at Abraxas. “What do you think Brax—Lord Abraxas?”

    He considered for a moment, tossing his impressive horns gently from side to side. “I think it is a problem that must be solved, and it would be good for you to learn of the spirits. Much easier to deal with than the fey, and the sooner you begin to learn the better.” He smiled at me. “I approve!”

    “Great! Then let’s…” I stopped mid-sentence. Suddenly, my mind was swirling, my body felt like it had been connected to a thousand live wires, each pumping not electricity but pure, golden-white cosmic force into my veins.

    “Lady Vi?”

    I couldn’t answer him. I could see the looks of concern on all of their faces, but I couldn’t speak. What was happening to me? It felt like…the sensation was familiar, but it made no sense. I hadn’t chosen to draw my Spark, why was it reacting? What…?

    Suddenly, my scales shone, ribbons of pure white light streaming across my body and rising off me like loops of pearlescent steam. I could feel the rush of power as divine energy flooded through me like a crashing wave. And then my mouth opened, and my voice spoke without me deciding to.

    “SHUEY-LIEN!” It said, the roar of each of my thousands of past lives speaking as one. “THIS DOORWAY HOLDS A PURPOSE THAT IS BEYOND YOU! DO NOT INTERFERE WITH MY DESIGN!”

    “L...L…Lady Kyrala?!” The Water dragon bowed all the way to the floor, unable to meet my gaze. Cold fear gripped me; how was this happening? Kyrala was my predecessor, my past life, but she couldn’t control me like this, could she?

    “My Lady,” Shuey-Lien continued hesitantly. “There is damage being caused. Spirits don’t understand the delicate balance of our Jewel’s ecosystems, they’re inflicting great harm to...”

    “GREATER HARM YET WILL BEFALL US ALL IF THE DOOR IS CLOSED! YOU WILL NOT INTERVENE! I HAVE SPOKEN!”

    As suddenly as it had started, the rush of energy withdrew, and I coughed as I regained control of my limbs, shaking and weak from the after-effects of drawing my spark.

    The others around me shared a glance. “Very well,” Shuey-Lien said, her fluid voice trembling slightly as she rose. “We will…return home and fortify as best we can.” She turned to address me. “Please give my apologies to Lady Kyrala. I did not intend to disrupt any of her plans.”

    Unable to speak nor project my thoughts as I struggled to untangle my mind, I could do nothing but shake my head.

    The two strangers turned and loped out of the meeting hall, leaving me alone with Abraxas and Dallan. “Lady Vi,” Brax began, concern evident in his voice. “If closing this rift would be disruptive to you, you had only to say so. There was no need…”

    “I didn’t do it!” I cried, finally finding my voice. “I didn’t do it! She just…took me over!” I looked between the two of them, panic rising in my chest. “Is that normal? Can she do that whenever she wants?”

    “No, Lady Vi,” Brax said, shaking his head solemnly. “That is not something that should happen.”

    “Then what do I do?” I asked timidly.

    “You must speak with her. And do it soon.”
    Last edited by Absol197; 2017-01-31 at 02:45 PM.
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    "Hatching"
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    I stared at the keyhole in the doorknob, my head resting against the cheap wood in a vain attempt to stop the spinning.

    “Stupid lock,” I muttered. “Stupid key.” For the fourth time, I raised my hand, the key clutched desperately in my fingers, and slowly tried to insert the metal tab into the slot. It hit a little too high and about a quarter inch to port; whatever was wrong with me was getting worse – it felt like my limbs weren’t connecting properly to my brain, that everything was in the wrong place. And the constant, unceasing head rush did not help matters in the slightest.

    I growled, a purely animal sound that rumbled in my throat. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have gone straight to the university psychiatrist upon hearing myself make a noise like that, but right at that moment, I was on a mission. Blinking quickly to clear my head, I focused more than I had in a long time and slowly, careful, slid the key towards the slot. Closer…closer…

    The quick double-buzz of a text message reverberated from somewhere in my bag, and my intense focus was broken. The key slipped well past the keyhole and stabbed into the wood of the door, chipping it.

    “D--n it! F--k you, key!” I shouted in rage, spinning quickly and hurling the offending sliver of metal over the railing and out into the parking lot beyond.

    Somehow, the sudden surge of movement cleared my head. The blood pumping through me seemed to be lit on fire, carrying more than just oxygen, like there was some burning spark of energy skittering through my veins. The distressing deterioration of my coordination seemed momentarily reversed, my throw was clean and fluid. Which, of course, meant that the sole remaining key to my apartment was flying even further than I wanted it to.

    My heartbeat pounded in my head, and I ripped open the clasp on my bag and snatched out my phone. I hammered in my passcode and brought up my messages. I didn’t even look at the text, mashing the “Call” button and raising the phone to my ear.

    In two and a half rings, the call connected. “Hey, Chrissy—”

    WHAT?!” I roared into the device. Once again, gathering somewhere behind me, I heard the voice start up, a murmuring susurrus of jumbled words and phrases that I couldn’t make out. Surprisingly, the fact that I was hearing voices did not make me feel any better.

    The voice on the other end paused, clearly startled by my eruption. “…Chrissy? Are you…okay?”

    “I’m…fine,” I lied. Already, the burning surge of anger had simmered down, and the dizziness was starting in again. I turned to put my back against the door and used it to slowly slide my way to the floor. “Sorry for shouting, I’m...having trouble with my door.”

    “Did you lose another key?” Tammy asked hesitantly. “Damn, girl, your landlord must hate you!”

    “I didn’t lose…” I paused, turned my head to look at the railing and the trees beyond. “Yeah, I lost it.”

    “You don’t sound too good,” Tammy said, concern in her voice. “You still gonna be up for going out tonight?”

    I wasn’t. I really wasn’t. I had barely made it up the stairs to my apartment. I needed to go to a hospital. Can’t go out. Not tonight. I started and the back of my head hit the door, adding pain the list of symptoms it was currently suffering from. What the hell? Had I thought that, or had the…voice said it? It didn’t sound like the “me” I heard in my head—it had been ringing, like a perfect note from a crystal bell, the way the voice sounded. But I’d never heard the voice so clearly, and…it didn’t feel like it came from outside. I couldn’t tell. It could have been me, right?

    But I couldn’t let my friend down. “I…sure, Tam. I just need to…take a quick nap, or something.”

    She wasn’t buying it; I’d never been able to lie to her. “Nuh-uh, you stay there, I’ll be right over.” A jingle played in my ear, letting me know that she’d hung up without waiting for my answer.

    “Okay, see you soon,” I said, letting my arm flop to the floor. “I’ll just…wait here…”

    It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I sat there in front of my door in the fading evening heat, zoned out as I waited for Tam. My skin felt uncomfortable, in a vague way I couldn’t define. As I waited, I alternately scratched at my arm and pinched at it in various places, trying to determine why it felt so out of place.

    After an indeterminate amount of time, I heard clicking on the stairs, and Tam’s face emerged in front of me. She was already dressed up for her big Two-One bar crawl. Her long, dark hair was done up with chopsticks, the bottom half dyed red. A short-cut black jacket hung over one shoulder leaving the other bare, and she wore it over a tight dress with swirls of black and deep indigo, accentuated with sparkling pumps and large dangling wristbands. The deep red lipstick was luscious against her lovely mocha skin, and as she saw me, I watched her dark eyes fill with concern.

    She walked briskly over and stopped a few paces in front of me, holding up something in her hand. It was my key. “Drop something?” She asked wryly.

    “You look hot!” It was out of my mouth before my brain had even kicked into gear.

    “Oookay,” Tam said, bending down to grab my arm and pull me to my feet. “Now I’m really worried, because I’m pretty sure we talked about that.”

    As Tam steadied me and unlocked the door, chiming laughter echoed somewhere around me. Interesting! It’s been a while since that happened…

    “Oh, shut up…” I muttered as we stumbled into my apartment. Reflexively, I reached over and flipped the switch, flooding my small space with light.

    “What was that?” Tam asked, nearly carrying me to my couch and sitting me down on it.

    I shook my head. “I really, really hope it’s nothing.” As I sank into the cushions, I signed and pressed on my temples. “I’m sorry, Tam. I’m really sorry, I wanted to be there for you on your birthday.”

    “No, no,” she said gently, rubbing my back. “I’m just worried about you. Here, hold on a sec…” She got up and went to the door, bringing in my bag and closing the door behind her, clicking the lock.

    She came back to the couch and sat down on the arm next to me. “Chrissy…” she started, putting her hand on my forehead. “Come on, tell me the truth. Are you okay?” Her hand moved to my cheek, feeling for a fever.

    “I’m okay,” I said. And it was sort of true. The dizziness was beginning to fade; it had been coming in waves all week, and although this one had been really bad and extra long, my head was finally starting to clear.

    “Come on,” Tam said, still not buying my lies. “You’ve been really weird all week. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

    “I…I think…” I stalled. I was scared to say what I’d been thinking. Saying it would mean it was real, that I had to do something about it. “I think I’m going crazy,” I said in a small, vulnerable voice.

    “What?” She said, startled. “Why do you think that?” She walked around to sit next to me, her hand slipping into mine.

    “I feel…wrong,” I said, pinching the skin on my arm in a couple of places. It still didn’t feel right.

    “Wrong? Wrong how?”

    “I don’t know, it’s like…” I waved my arm vaguely, as if its movement could gather the words I needed to describe how I felt. “It’s like my insides are getting bigger but my skin isn’t, and my skin is getting too tight. It doesn’t fit right, it’s like…I’m wearing old clothes from when I was a kid and I’ve outgrown them.”

    “You mean, like, you’re body doesn’t feel right?” She asked, trying to understand.

    “Yes!” I exclaimed. But then I shook my head. “And no. It’s not just my body, it’s like…my brain is going the same speed it’s always gone, but that’s suddenly too slow now, too. I think about stuff, and somehow I get to the answer but my brain takes another couple moments to catch up, and I’m out of sync with myself. Like, all of this,” I waved my hand vigorously in front of me, “I’ve…outgrown it, somehow. It used to be the right speed, the right…the right shape, but I’ve grown faster than it has and now it’s too slow, too…too small….”

    Tam said nothing, just held my free hand and rubbed slow circles across my back.

    “And that’s not all,” I said. While everything I’d said was true, and growing more and more unbearable each day, the next part was the thing that scared me the most. “I’ve been having really weird dreams...” I paused again, drawing up the courage to say what I needed to say. “And I’ve been hearing voices.”

    “You’ve been…hearing voices?” Her voice was gentle, but the concern was readily apparent.

    “Well, a voice. I think,” I said. “I can’t…usually it’s just whispers, I can’t really make out what it saying. But sometimes…I hear it, and I’m not sure if it’s actually a voice, like it’s someone else talking, or if it’s just me thinking.” I shook my head.

    “Does this voice have a name? Does it ever…say your name?” Tam asked tentatively, clearly afraid of what my answer might be.

    I shook my head quickly. “No, no. Like I said, normally I can’t really hear what she’s saying…”

    “She? The voice is a she?”

    “Well…” I was going to deny it, I wanted to deny it, to make myself seem less crazy, but I was suddenly absolutely certain. Yes, the voice was a she. I nodded guiltily.

    “S--t, Christine, you need to see a shrink!” It was probably unconscious on her part, but I couldn’t help but notice that she slid a tiny bit away from me.

    I nodded. “I know. I’ll find one first thing tomorrow.” Need rest; she should leave… I stopped. That hadn’t been me. I was sure of it. It was her. I took in a deep breath, and grit my teeth. “But first, we need to go out for your birthday!”

    “What?” Tam gasped. “No! Chrissy…Not five minutes ago I found you nearly passed out in front of your door! Now you’re saying you’re hearing voices? You need rest!”

    Listen to her.

    I shook my head and stood up. “No, I’m fine,” I lied. “Maybe it’s just stress. Finals are coming up, I’ve been studying a lot, it probably just hit me harder than usual this year. I just need to unwind a little!”

    The look on Tam’s face was desperate, uncertain, worried. “Chrissy…”

    “Look, Tam,” I said, cutting her off. I stared into her eyes as I spoke. “I need this. I won’t drink, I promise, I’ll leave that part to you. If I start feeling off I’ll call a cab and come straight home. Look,” I instructed, and I jogged around my small dining table and back to my place in front of her. “I’m feeling better already, see?”

    That part was true; the fiery heat, that strange spark had returned, and even after the brief jog I was starting to feel jazzed.
    She looked away, glancing around my apartment to avoid looking in my eyes. “Okay. Alright, fine.” She stood up and stepped closer, bending in to give me a hug. “But please, please be careful. I can’t lose my Chrissy!”



    To my pleasant surprise, the next three hours went well. The fire in my veins remained, an odd sensation, but much better than waves of dizziness. My mind felt clearer, quicker, and except for the few words I had heard at my apartment, the voice seemed to have disappeared.

    Six of us, Tam, me and four of our closest friends, hit the town in celebration of her achievement of legally available booze, dressed in our finest alluring attire. As promised, I avoided drinking, contenting myself with watching and joining in the laughter as Tam's balance and speech slowly disintegrated in front of us. Until the fourth bar, nearing eleven at night, when Tam returned to our little table and pushed a triangular glass filled with mysterious green liquid into my hand.

    “You’ve been good,” she smiled, swaying slightly. “Have one of these!”

    “I feel good!” I said, taking a sip through the straw. The drink was sweet, and the alcohol burned slightly going down. “Oh, God, I needed this!” I moaned. “I’m so sorry for scaring you earlier,” I said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “I think it really was just stress.”

    I reached for the drink again, and set the straw to my lips.

    Just before I began to draw, searing agony flashed through me, body and mind alike. I wretched, spilling the sweet green liquid across the table, and I felt the glass shatter in my hand. It was like I’d been struck by lightning or plugged into a high-voltage power line as scintillating, burning energy flared through me. Through the thumping music, the voice began again, a storm of hurried muttering and urgent chatter, louder than ever.

    “Chrissy!” Tam screamed as I twitched, trying to push myself into sitting upright.

    “GO!” The voice shouted right behind my ear, clear and powerful, undeniably spoken by someone else. I whipped around, so sure that I would finally see whoever it was who had been tormenting me, but there was no one. Only a bar full of patrons staring questioningly. “GET OUT! NOW!”

    I whipped around again, trying to catch the speaker who was hiding behind my ear. I saw Tam, her eyes wide with fear. “Tam…” I started, the same fear quivering in my voice. “Tam, I…”

    Another bolt of lightning blazed through me and I spasmed again, reaching out and clawing at the table to keep my balance. It felt like a fire, a literal fire had ignited in my stomach. I tried to stand. The voice was right, I needed to leave…but something was wrong. Two feet…I only had two feet. That wasn’t enough! My body was too small, I felt like it was going to rip to shreds as I came bursting out. I started to fall, and I kicked out a foot to stabilize myself, and whipped—no tail! I fell gracelessly to the floor, flailing awkwardly as I did.

    Somehow through the haze of pain, I had a moment to wonder why I had expected myself to have a tail, and then the voice whispered in my ear again, quiet but urgent. “You have to move. You have to get away from people. It’s dangerous for you and it’s dangerous for them.”

    “Miss? Miss! Are you okay?” Strong arms lifted me back to my two feet. “How many has she had?”

    “None!” I recognized the voice as Lindsey’s. “She's our DD! That was her first sip all night!”

    “Bathroom…” I muttered, trying to get someone’s attention. “I’ll be fine, I just need…bathroom…”

    “Yeah, sure, this way.” The young man, whom I hoped was an employee of the bar, helped walk me through the crowd, which parted to give me space. Not that I blamed them—I would get away from me if I could, too.

    “Here you go, miss.”

    I stumbled forward, looking around through bleary eyes as I clutched at my belly, trying desperately to squeeze the painful fire away. Single stall. Small blessings. I opened the door and turned around, slamming the bolt across just as the third blast of pain flashed through me.

    I dropped to my knees and crawled over to the toilet, lifting the seat. Whatever was going on, I was pretty sure I was going to vomit at least once. “Oh, God…” I moaned.

    “I did try to warn you,” the voice said gently.

    “Go away!” I croaked, hoping with all my might that she wouldn’t say anything back. I wasn’t a psych student, but I was positive if you start talking to the voices and they talk back it means you have some sort of disorder.

    “Soon enough,” She assured me.

    “Who are you?” If I was crazy and dying, I might as well go all out.

    “There will be time for that later,” she said. “You’re almost there. This next part won’t hurt, but it will feel very strange,” she warned.

    I lay there twitching, blazing flames dancing inside me. “What’s happening to me?”

    “Your Spark is reigniting after its dormancy.” Which, of course, was super helpful information.

    As she spoke, the flames flared, spreading throughout my entire body, sending the burning heat speeding to every last part of me. But along with the scorching fire, there was something else. A surge of bright, giddy energy that balmed as the fire burned, filling me up like I was a balloon about to pop. My shaking stopped, and the shooting pain of the inner fire seemed far away. I tried to steady my breathing—I felt electric, powerful. A palpable charge hung in the air around me.

    As I oriented myself and moved to push up from the floor, I stopped. The energy was filling me up, pushing up to the surface of my skin—and as it did so, I watched the skin of my arm slowly turn grey, then grow darker and darker. Goosebumps erupted all over, and as my skin darkened further, the energy pushed its way out of me, causing a thin, black mist to begin to rise off my arm.

    Too shocked to speak, too shocked to scream, I watched as the mist slowly thickened. It clung to me, floating no more than an inch or two off the surface of my body no matter how I moved. Within ten seconds, I couldn’t see my arm any longer, only the cloak of rippling black steam that had seeped from me.

    Then, in a surge and a rush, the mist collapsed back into me, and my entire world flipped upside down.

    For several long moments, I lay there unmoving, my eyes closed. The stone floor of the bathroom was cold, and sticky, and smelled awful, but despite that I felt…cozy. Content. I felt like I was finally put together properly, and inside I was…sparkling. The fiery energy I’d felt earlier that day was now a permanent fixture, I could feel it. But it no longer burned, it shone, like a shimmering field of embers.

    Can’t stay...need to get… the voice came again, not from behind my ear, but as a nebulous thing. I could recognize that it wasn’t coming from outside, but from some place inside me. must put…skin…takes focusyou can do it It faded away, the hovering ethereal presence no longer there. I was pretty sure I wasn’t ever going to hear that voice again. Whoever she was.

    The thumping music from the floor penetrated through the bathroom door, crisp and sharp, louder than I remembered. The bathroom stank; I could smell the residual scent of urine from at least a dozen different people, the sharp sting of industrial clearer, and the wafting tang of alcohol that permeated everywhere. I sniffed, trying to clear my airway of the smells. My nose felt weird.

    A soft rapping sounded, someone knocking gently on the bathroom door. “Chrissy?” It was Tam. “Chrissy, are you alright?”

    “Yes,” I called, shaking my head and blinking slowly. My voice sounded strange. It was mostly the same, but it churned and crackled, fiery undertones making it forceful, powerful, louder. “I’m…I’m fine, actually.”

    “Are you sure? You sound…Well, you sound really weird.”

    “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m…HOLY S--T!” A long, scaly black tail lay draped across the bathroom floor, and as I jumped back, scrambling on four feet to get away, it jerked and moved with me. It was a tail. My tail. I had a tail.

    I quickly looked myself over, and held my hands up to my face. They were slender talons tipped with wicked claws, although as I tested the fingers each seemed to be just as, if not more, dexterous than the hands I remembered having. All told, I was maybe ten to twelve feet long, including the whip-like tail. I surged across the floor to get to the mirror as Tam began to bang harder on the door.

    “Chris? Chrissy! Talk to me!”

    Despite having no idea why I was suddenly no longer human, my body was sure and powerful, and I seemed to know how it worked on some deep, instinctual level. I pushed off the floor with my forelegs and used them to grab the sink, lifting my neck to its full extension to get as good a look as I could. What I saw staring back at me in the mirror made no sense.

    A long, slender snout with two flicking, rope-like whiskers hanging from just below the nose; large eyes with piercing, black irises set in grey; short, steely horns just budding at the back of the skull; a poof of deep, blood red fur behind the horns running down in a crest all along the back to the tip of the tail, where a larger fan of the same red fur spread; and everything covered in small, pitch black scales.

    “I’m a…I’m a…” Dragon. Saying the word made it real. But I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t believe it.

    “CHRISSY!” Tam shouted furiously, rapping vigorously on the door, the handle jiggling back and forth. “Chrissy, talk to me! She’s locked herself in, she’s not well! She needs a doctor!”

    “I’ll get the key.”

    Crap. I still wasn’t sure if what I was seeing was real or not, but assuming it was for a moment, I could find no plausible scenario where them opening the door to find a real, live dragon in the bathroom where a human girl had just been might end well for me. If they thought I ate…me…then they’d call animal control. Heck, this was Texas—someone might even shoot me on the spot. I could try and tell them the truth, but the talking monster scenario didn’t seem any less likely to end with me getting shot. Even if I avoided a bullet in the brain, I didn’t relish the idea of spending the rest of my life in a zoo at best or a government lab at worst.

    “No, it’s okay! Really!” I called, trying to forestall them, even a little. Then, quietly to myself: “Hello? Little voice person? Are you there?” I paused, but no response was forthcoming. Great. Panic was setting in, gripping my chest. I didn’t want this, I didn’t ask for it. Why me?

    What had the voice said, just at the end? I’d been so relieved that the pain was over that I hadn’t really listened. Something about skin? It took focus? I dropped back to the floor, pacing nervously. As I did so, one of my claws caught on something. I looked at it. A piece of green fabric. My dress. I looked around, taking in more details. My clothes were in tatters and strewn all across the floor. And somehow, at that last thought, my control snapped.

    “No. No no no no…” I moaned, not caring enough to be quiet any longer. The door rattled as Tam tried to get in, as she called my name, but I didn’t pay attention. I needed to be human, to be myself again. I needed this to end!

    In my desperation, I nearly missed that the black steam was starting to rise off of my scaly arm once more. I gasped, staring, but it stopped, dispersing into the air. I paused, grasping at straws. Could I do it? Could I get myself back?

    Focus. The voice had said it took focus. The energy had pushed up through my skin, maybe that was the trick. “Human," I whispered, concentrating on the sparkling force inside me, trying to push it up and out. “I need to be human…” Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the black mist began to rise and thicken around me once again.

    The door rattled again, as the employee returned with the key to push back the bolt. No! Couldn’t get distracted! The bolt slid back, and the knob turned at the same time the black steam snapped and rushed in. There was a confusing jumble as my parts rearranged themselves, and then I was sitting there, naked amid the tatters of my clothes, looking up as a very startled young man stared down at me.

    “Chrissy!” Tam pushed her way past and then stopped as she surveilled the scene I had found myself in the center of. “What happened? What did you do?” She asked, her eyes wide and her face drawn heavy with fear and concern.

    I tried to cover myself as best I could, but there was little I could do. “I…I need to go home,” I said, tears beginning to wet my cheeks.

    “Home? Christine, you need to go to a hospital!” She knelt down, putting herself between me and the open door. “You’re sick, you need help!” She slid an arm across my shoulders, giving me a gentle hug from the side. She looked up at the young man, jerking her head. “Hey, do you think you could get something? So she can…cover up?”

    Her words jolted him out of his stupor, and he fidgeted awkwardly. “Uh, right, yeah, sure,” he dithered, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back.” He left the little bathroom, closing the door behind him. To his credit, there was a scrabbling sound and the bolt clicked back into place a second later.

    Alone with my friend, scared, vulnerable and confused, tears beginning to stream down my face, I said the only thing that came to my mind. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday…”

    “Oh, sweetie,” Tam cooed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “No, no, It's okay. Here, let me see your hand.”

    “My hand?”

    “The glass broke in your hand when you seized, remember?” She said gently, like she was speaking to a child. Or a crazy person. “There was blood everywhere, you left a trail…” Her words drifted off as I held out my hands for her. There was no blood, no cut, only some faint scars on my right palm.

    “What?” She wondered, her brow furrowing in confusion. She looked up. “I don’t…Oh my God, your eyes!” She exclaimed, her own going wide with shock.

    “What?” I asked tentatively, not really wanting to know the answer.

    “Um, nothing,” she lied, shaking her head slightly. “We’ll just…we’re just gonna get you home, and you can lie down and get some rest, and tomorrow we’ll…talk through it.”

    “I don’t think we can talk through this, Tam,” I said quietly, sniffing through my tears. “I don't understand it. It doesn’t make any sense at all…”

    There was a knock and the bolt slid back, the door opening slightly to allow a hand holding a white tablecloth to slip in through the crack. “Here,” the young employee’s voice said. “This was the best I could find.”

    “Thanks,” Tam said, grabbing the cloth. “We’ll be out in a minute.” She unfolded the white sheet and draped it over me like a blanket. “Okay, let’s get you home…”

    She helped me stand, and gathered my shoes. They had fallen off at some point and both were still intact, although the left shoe had a large hole in the middle, like a giant spike (or claw) had punctured right through it. Tam inspected the damage and looked at me, fear clearly evident on her face.

    As soon as I was shoed and wrapped up tightly, Tam guided me gently towards the door. But for just a moment, I hesitated. Two feet. No tail. It was like remembering an old familiar skill that you had left unused for years. A chill crept down my spine—this wasn’t over. The dragon wasn’t gone. Whatever had happened, whatever I was, the Christine everyone knew was no longer me. It was like I was wearing a mask, a disguise, the monster that was the real me hidden within.

    As we walked out of the bathroom and headed for the waiting cab, I stole a glance at the mirror. My once hazel green eyes had turned jet black.
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-09-13 at 12:11 PM.

  3. - Top - End - #3
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    "Reunion, Part 1"
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    “Mrs. Gold?” Dr. Eastcott emerged quietly from the door to the operating wing, closing it carefully behind him so as not to rouse the other families in the waiting room. Although, like ours, very few of them were actually asleep.

    I stood up, wiping away lingering tears as he approached. “How is he?”

    “He was very, very lucky; with burning that extensive…” He shook his head, ending his thought early. “He’s going to live. But there will be permanent damage.”

    “Oh my God,” I whispered, closing my eyes as I absorbed the news. I felt strong arms embrace me from behind, and I reached up to grasp my brother’s hand as fresh sobs began to wrack my frame.

    “Can we see him?” My brother asked from behind me, his deep, rich voice etched with worry. “In case he…”

    “I doubt he’s going to wake up tonight. Probably not for a couple of days, at least,” Eastcott said. “But yes, you can see him. We’re preparing his room, and we have a couple of post-op things we need to do first before we can allow visitors, but it shouldn’t be too long. We’ll come get you when it’s time. I’m so very sorry.”

    “Thank you,” I sniffed. “For everything you’ve done.”

    About half an hour later, we were led to a private room. The placard read “B-467,” and a hastily-typed tag gave the name of the patient as William Gold. My breath caught in my throat as a nurse escorted us in. Dim lighting greeted us; a battery of machines, monitors, and what seemed like miles of tubing clustered around the bed in the center of the room, on which lay my husband. Heavy gauze bandages covered nearly every inch of him, space only allowed for his nose, eyes, and mouth. An IV stand with three separate drips stood near his right side, while a tube slid into his mouth to allow for oxygen. He was like a dead man.

    It was devastating. My brother spoke with the doctors and nurses as they explained the situation and treatments while I perched on the chair that had been set near the bedside, staring and choking back sobs.

    After a few minutes, the staff repeated their condolences, alerted us that the night shift nurse would be in soon, and closed the door behind them. As soon as they did, I stopped crying, my guise growing hard. A flash of golden light illuminated the room as my eyes blazed momentarily. “God **** it,” I growled. “We have to find these guys, Brax.” I resisted the urge to put my fist through a wall.

    “We will, Lady Vi, I am certain,” he said calmly. He stood in front of the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “They have made a mistake, and now we have a chance.”

    “Some mistake,” I simmered. “I’m not sure I can get this guy to a place where he’ll be able to talk again.” Glancing around to make sure there wasn’t any hospital staff nearby to see, I reached out and placed my hands on the man in the bed, right hand on his forehead, left hand on his heart. I closed my eyes, feeling the pathways of life energy as they flowed through him. He was in bad shape—I had healed him as much as I could before we’d brought him to the hospital, but I was still learning how to apply the techniques to others. Cuts and bruises, sickness and mild toxins I could handle, but burns were something else entirely, especially burns this bad.

    “Just try your best, Lady Vi,” Brax encouraged. “Could the Lady Kyrala help?”

    “Not any more than she has,” I replied. “She said that the biggest problem is energy flow—my pathways just aren’t open enough yet to be able to actually do stuff like this. I can ask her if there’s any other little tricks…” I inspected the work the doctors had done, trying to see how I might improve on it. It would have been convenient to have my whiskers so I could get a physical reading instead of just a metaphysical one, but there wasn’t enough space for my true form in the little room. All the electricity churning through the medical equipment would have made it too hard to get a good feel, anyway.

    I found a couple of places I could help the healing process along, and with the machines taking over part of the work of keeping him alive, I diverted some of his body’s processes towards repairing his lungs and esophagus. It wasn’t much, but to the doctors it would seem miraculous. Which, in a way, it was.

    I signed and stood up to join Brax at the window. I stood next to him, gazing out at the myriad lights of Chicago’s nighttime skyline. “That was some quick thinking back there,” I said after a moment. “Taking him to a hospital. You’ve done it before.”

    “Yes,” he nodded. “As I say, we are very powerful, but sometimes—”

    “Sometimes, there’s nothing better than a little artifice,” I finished for him, smiling briefly.

    “Yes,” he agreed, nodding.

    “What’s the connection, Brax?” I asked, quiet intensity in my voice. “Why these people? What’s Jor up to?” I ran through everything we knew for the hundredth time, tapping into the shimmering energy of my Spark to super-charge my thought processes, trying to find the one link, the one clue I’d missed. My mind blazed, running at incredible speeds, clear and focused, but still the reason eluded me.

    “I do not know, Lady Vi,” he admitted.

    “A New York cabby, a florist in Versailles, that beat cop in Macau, a nun from Barcelona, and now back to America for this…playboy. It makes no sense.” I shook my head. “If Jor was just looking to inflict a little random destruction, why fly all over the world? Why these specific people? He’s never been this surgical before.”

    “Perhaps his new allies are the key,” Brax mused.

    “I’ve thought about that,” I asserted. “I can’t find any link between them and these people, either. They’re just regular old mortals. No power, no influence, not any money to speak of. Except this guy, of course.” I turned to look at our ward, so vulnerable lying on his bed. He was so incredibly lucky to be alive. I sighed. “I guess for now, we stick to Elleman here. Heal him up, see if we can get him talking. Make sure Jor doesn’t come back to finish the job.”

    Brax said nothing. He didn’t need to; we were in sync, our minds able to feel each other’s general mood without effort. He agreed with my assessment. I stared out the window, watching the world drift by, the people of the Windy City going about their nightly routines.

    A quiet rap came from the door behind us before it opened. “The night nurse,” Brax reminded me. “I will speak with her.” He turned about, intercepting the nurse and leaving me to think. I flipped the clues about one way and another. The problem ran deeper than my teacher knew—Jor and his…gang were a rogue element, something that couldn’t be predicted. He had already come dangerously close to disrupting Kyrala’s plan, her final gambit to save the world. I had not yet decided if I was going to go through with it; the thought still seemed too monstrous. But I needed to make sure that I kept the option open as long as possible. I didn’t know if Jor had done it on purpose or not, if the Sickness was driving him to interrupt what the great beast felt was coming, but I couldn’t risk it either way.

    “Mrs. Gold? Victoria, right?” The nurse was behind me. I turned to look at her; I was so deep in reflection that I didn’t realize I recognized her voice until I was already facing her. Dark, expressive eyes set in a face with lovely mocha skin.

    I recovered almost instantly, my Balance and poise compensating for my surprise. “Tam, it’s nice to see you again,” I remarked, a small smile pulling at my lips.

    Her eyes flew wide with shock and fear. “Chrissy! Oh, God!” She stumbled backwards, tripping over herself to put distance between the two of us. Brax smoothly placed himself between her and the patient’s bed, preventing her from crashing into it and injuring the man further. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with wild panic. She spun away and bolted for the door.

    I gave Brax an exasperated look, and then started after her. Though she had cleared more than three-quarters of the distance before I’d even started moving, I easily beat her to the door and placed my palm against the wood, holding it firmly shut.

    “Holy s—t!” Tam exclaimed, jumping back and away from me. She was shaking, her eyes darting, looking for a way out, like a trapped animal.

    “Tam,” I said gently, letting go of the door and holding out my hands in a placating gesture. “Tam, Tam, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

    “No!” She shouted, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You’re not human! People don’t move like that! People don’t stand like that,” she said, sparing a glance at Brax. “All perfect and creepy!”

    “I know,” I admitted, “You already knew that. It doesn’t mean I’m going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt anyone.” I paused, picking up on pieces of the spinning thoughts in her head. “This probably doesn’t look too good,” I admitted, pointing to the man in the bed.

    “Oh, no,” Tam mocked, still trying to press herself as far into the corner as she could. “A guy comes into my hospital burnt to hell and back, and this girl I used to know who turned out to be a fire-breathing monster just happens to be the one who brought him in? Why would that look bad?”

    “We didn’t do this to him,” I told her, trying to softly project calmness on her. “We saved him from the thing that did. I couldn’t help him by myself, so we brought him here for treatment.”

    “Lady Vi…”

    “Not right now, Brax,” I said, not taking my eyes off of Tam. I flicked my eyes around, judging distances. My friend (or former friend, I guess) had backer herself into the corner by the bed. She wouldn’t be able to get to the door before me, I could afford to give her some space. Raising my hands to show I meant to harm, I took three slow steps backwards, putting myself in the other corner. “There, see? Let’s talk this out.”

    “No,” Tam shook her head. “Chrissy, you’re a monster! You need to leave, now. Both of you. Never come back here again!”

    I grimaced. “I’m sorry, we can’t. He’s still in danger, I’m still responsible for keep…”

    RESPONSIBLE?!” Tam shouted. “You disappeared! Your family thinks you’re dead! Everyone thinks you’re dead!” Tears had begun to well in her eyes. I could feel her fear of being faced with the unknown, of being helpless, but though her mind was racing, there was something more buried in there, driving to get out.

    “You want responsible? I’m here every day, keeping people alive, bringing them back to their families! Sometimes it’s like I don’t even have my own life, the world outside this hospital doesn’t exist, and all I get to do is watch other people be happy! But I do it anyway because that’s my job! And here you are, wandering off doing whatever the hell it is you do, not a care in the world and then you come in here and tell me you’re being responsible? F—K YOU!”

    After she finished, tense silence hung in the air.

    “Lady Vi,” Brax pressed. “We cannot…”

    “No, Brax,” I said firmly, still not looking at him. “Not. Her.”

    “What? He gonna kill me, too?” She asked, casting me a sideways glance.

    “No, of course not,” I said. I considered her words, and a small breath of laughter escaped.

    “Something funny?” She asked archly, crossing her arms in front of her.

    “No, no, it’s just…” I paused, reflecting. “I know someone who was in a similar position as you. Demanding job, felt like she had no life. She’s an amazing person, I wish you could talk to her. Might help you both get some perspective.” I sighed. “Look, Tam, I so sorry about the way things ended between us. Really, I am. And I get it, you don’t like me. Heck, you want to hate me? Go right ahead, I'm sure I deserve it.” I glanced between her and Brax. “And we’re scary, I know. Believe me, if I’d known that you worked at this hospital, I would have taken our guy to any other one in this city just to give you your space. And as soon as this is over, you’ll never see me again.

    “But…” I looked over at the burn victim, watching the steady drip from the IVs for a few moments. “This right here? You and me? This isn’t important right now. What important is this man.” I turned to look at him fully. “Right now, keeping him safe is my responsibility.” I glanced at her. “And, unless I’m mistaken, as your patient, he’s yours, too.”

    I paused for a moment, letting my words sink in. “Look, Tamara,” I continued, using her full name for the first time in ages. “Please, don’t rock this boat. We had enough trouble getting him in here without leaving a trail for his attackers to follow.” I turned back to her, taking a cautious step nearer. “And I’m not asking that as a friend. I’m not even asking as that girl you used to know. I’m asking, one person with responsibilities to another: let’s set aside our differences and make sure the patient is safe.”

    She was quiet for a time. Brax really wanted to say something, but I mentally encouraged him to keep his mouth shut. Finally, despite the anger she clear on her face, she nodded. She turned slowly, walking over to the bank of machines. With one last glance at the both of us, she turned and began recording stats and making the necessary adjustments.

    “Well, I know this guy’s not your husband,” she accused as she worked, not sparing us a look. “So who is he?”

    I considered whether to tell her the truth or not. “His name is George Elleman,” I admitted.

    “Oh, great!” She said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “So out intake paperwork is all fraudulent?” She turned to look at me, her arms dropping to her side. “So, what? I’m supposed to cover up that I know that now, too?”

    “I’m sorry,” I said. “We had no choice. One of the…people…who did this to him is very good with computers. Right now we’re pretty sure they think he’s dead, but if you were to put his real info into your system, they’d know right where he was and come for him.”

    “Of course they would,” she muttered, removing an empty IV bag and replacing it with a full one. “How the hell did you even get him admitted under a false name?”

    I moved away from the door, sitting down in a chair at the foot of the bed. “Jedi Mind Trick,” I said, giving a vague, mystical gesture with my hand. “Literal mind control is impossible, but with the right push at the right time, people will skip obvious things that they would have otherwise caught.” I shrugged. “It’s not a perfect solution, and there’s no way it lasts long term, but we should be able to keep it up for a little while. Long enough to hopefully get him talking again and find out why they’re after him, at least.”

    “Mind control. That’s just perfect…” she checked her line, ensuring that there were no bubbles and that it was dripping properly before setting the bag on the rack. “Whatever you did, it better last a long time. He’s not getting out of this bed for at least two months.”

    “I’m hoping I can get it down to a week.”

    Tam stopped, turning to stare at me. I smiled. “I’m a healer.”

    “Then what the hell—”

    I held up a hand to interrupt her. “It’s not easy, okay, just like medicine is not easy. And working from the metaphysical side has restrictions, just like what you do has restrictions.” I spread my arms. “I couldn’t save him by myself. All I could have done was give him a couple hours more, and that wasn’t good enough. So I did everything I could from my end, then brought him here so you guys could work from your end.”

    “I am sick of this s—t,” she fumed, stomping over to the cabinet behind me and taking out supplies. “Mind control and magic healing and fire-breathing dragons…” She stopped, leaning over the counter, her head bowed. “Four years, Christine,” she said, her voice beginning to tremble. “Four. Years. And I had almost convinced myself that it wasn’t real…” She sighed. “Or are you ‘Victoria’ now?”

    “Virial, actually,” I said, giving a slight bow of my head.

    “Virial?”

    “Yes, emphasis on the ‘A.’” I smiled, watching her face. “Go ahead, you can say it,” I prodded.

    “That’s a stupid name,” she said sharply, crossing her arms again. She was quiet a moment, bobbing her head slightly as she processed everything. She looked over at Brax, who had stepped back to the window, his mind calm and contemplative. “What’s up with tall, dark, and handsome over there?” She asked, indicating him with her chin.

    “That’s Brax,” I offered. “Abraxas. He’s my teacher. Partner.”

    “Partner?” She asked quickly, an eyebrow arching. “So you are going for guys now?”

    “Not that kind of partner, Tam,” I corrected gently. “We work together. I haven’t had time for that kind of partner. Wouldn’t even know where to start looking, frankly.”

    “And he’s…like you?” She asked. I nodded. “And earlier, when he was wanting you to do something to me? He was gonna mess with my head, too, right? Make me forget about all this.” I nodded again, still saying nothing.

    She sighed, rubbing her face. “I can’t deal with this s—t right now. I have other patients I need to see.” She finished up her work in silence, not looking at either of us, and then stormed out of the room.

    For a time, I remained where I was, sitting quietly. Finally, I stood up and walked over to stand beside Brax. “Nothing to say?” I asked him.

    “I trust your judgement, Lady Vi,” he replied.

    “Even though I lack Awareness?”

    “Awareness. And maybe some Serenity, too.” He smiled. “But you are a good judge of character. If you do not believe she will be a problem for us, I will trust you.”

    I smiled too. More moments of peaceful silence passed between us.

    He smirked suddenly. “Chrissy?”

    “Shut up, Brax.”

    A couple hours passed, with little conversation between us. I returned to the bed every now and then to check on the patient, adjust his energy pathways, trying to minimize his recovery time. It was going better than I expected, but not by much. Eventually Brax pulled a chair over to the window and settled into it, closing his eyes and dozing off.

    I sat at the foot of the bed, retreading the same logic, reaching the same dead ends. I needed more information to get to the bottom of what was going on, and I didn’t have it. I considered talking to Kyrala, asking for more tips on healing, just to have something useful to do with my time, but even though we were getting along quite well these days, I still could only take so much of her at once. Instead I stood up, pacing the small room.

    A flash of movement caught my eye, and I stopped. It was my own reflection in the bathroom mirror. I crossed the room and flicked on the light, studying my appearance. The eyes were the first thing most people noticed, and I was no different. You can always tell a Mauna by their eyes, even if they’re trying to hide their nature, if you know what to look for. Mine were a faintly shimmering yellow-gold. I made them flash quickly a couple of times, and when the inner light shone through they seemed momentarily to be made of gleaming molten gold. My sandy brown hair was cut short, coming only halfway down my neck. My second skin had always had a long, pointed face, but it balanced softness and strength perfectly, the skin flawless and tinted with a glint of something indescribably exotic. I could even see a hint of the unnatural elegance that made Kyrala so incredibly beautiful beginning to peek through.

    No wonder Tam had been so shocked. I didn’t spend much time around humans in a social capacity, and typically the only human forms I would see for days or weeks at a time were the second skins of my brothers and sisters. I hadn’t noticed how incredibly alien my appearance had slowly become as I’d grown older, stronger. I was still recognizable as the person I’d been before, but I was clearly very different.

    Reaching for my Spark’s energy, I called up a trick I had very recently learned, sending a trickle of power through my skin. I felt a shivering sensation as my skin changed and my muscles lost their visible tone; a faint wisp of yellow-tinged smoke rose from my head as my hair lengthened to fall down to my back; a series of uncomfortable popping sensations rippled through me as my bones and cartilage subtly reshaped itself and I grew nearly half an inch shorter. The final thing to change was the eyes. Spreading from the pupils, the soft golden color darkened to hazel green.

    I studied myself again; the long hair covered my ears, and the shape of the face was different: the chin slightly longer, the jaw a bit more pinched. The ghost of a second chin flitted into sight depending on how I moved, and light freckles and a couple small moles marred the skin. This was the person Tam had known; the person who had walked into this hospital room had barely been the same, even discounting the fact that it was my second skin and not my true self.

    There was a faint knock and the door to the room opened again. I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling with my mind, sensing to determine if our enemy had tracked us down. But it was only Tam, coming in on her rounds to tend to Mr. Elleman. She entered backwards, wheeling a small cart with her laden down with supplies for the various patients under her care. She selected a few choice items and turned to the machinery to perform her scheduled review and maintenance.

    She glanced up at me as emerged, and then did a double-take, jumping as she saw me. “What the hell…?” she gasped, her mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. It was like she was seeing a ghost.

    Which, I realized, she was—I had not yet released the changes I had made, so she was seeing the person who disappeared four years ago, not the creature who had replaced her.

    “I’m sorry,” I said softly, looking at my hand. “I was…remembering.” I stepped back into the bathroom. “I’ll change back.”

    “No, wait!” she said, stepping briskly around the bed and moving to stand in front of me, staring her eyes wide. I could tell she wanted to say something, anything, but her mind was racing too quickly for a single question to crystalize.

    “Memories are a very big deal for us,” I told her, holding out my hand for her to look at, too. “We have so many of them, more than you can imagine, and some day each of us becomes a memory to guide those of us that follow. At least, we’re supposed to.” I raised my hand to my own face again, flipping it over slowly. “But those memories…we really only focus on the parts after our Hatching. The couple decades we spend thinking we’re human just seem to get…swept under the rug.”

    I laughed, without humor. “But for me in particular…It’s like, listening to a record when someone bumps the table and the record skips for a split second. Christine Wallard happened in that skip, and then the song plays on, hardly noticing the interruption.”

    At my words, Tam’s mind finally settled on a question. “So we were…what? A distraction? We meant nothing? You were Chrissy for twenty-two years before you became…Virial. Why does that not matter?”

    I sighed, gazing at the ceiling and I searched for an explanation. “Yes, you’re absolutely right, I was Chrissy for much longer than I’ve been Vi. But before that…we remember our past lives, Tam. I know it sounds crazy, and I can’t really explain how it works without you having experienced it yourself. But my predecessor? Kyrala? She lived for seventy-two centuries. She was born during the agricultural revolution, for Christ’s sake!” I leaned against the wall, sliding down slowly to sit on the floor. “I didn’t mean to abandon you. But against oceans of time like that—amounts of time that I still can’t even really fathom—I got swept up in the current. I had no one to keep me grounded, no one to help me remember the little things…”

    I looked up at her from the ground, and she sighed and turned, sitting down to join me. “You know I’m…sorry. I’m sorry for storming out on the day that you…you know.” I nodded. About a month after my Hatching, I had confided in her about my new life. It had not gone the way I had hoped. “I was scared, you know?” She admitted. “You had that breakdown on my birthday, then I didn’t see you for weeks. Then you became that…thing…and told me that you felt like that was more who you were than the person I’d known for years. I was scared, and angry.”

    “I was scared, too,” I reminded her. “You think it was scary watching your friend go through it? Try doing it yourself. When I first shifted in front of you, do you know what I was thinking?” She looked up at me, giving a small shake of her head. “I was thinking, ‘Please God, please let her see it too.’ I had no idea what was happening to me, and I was just as freaked out about not feeling human any more as you were about hearing me say it.

    “Even after I left and my people found me, and they told me who I was, and started teaching me, you know what I really wanted? I wanted my Tam.” I locked my eyes with hers, finally able to say things that I had buried years ago. “I wanted to be able to complain about how crazy it all was, to ***** about how hard it was to learn everything they wanted me to learn. I wanted to hear you laugh at my bad sarcasm, to try to get me to look at hot guys and then make fake gagging sounds when I pointed out hot girls.” I took a deep breath, tears beginning to stain my cheeks. “I wanted to argue about whether medicine or engineering was a harder major, and be made fun of for dressing like a guy sometimes—“

    “You still dress like a guy,” she said, leaning over to bump my shoulder with hers. “Does Dark Chocolate do your shopping for you?” I laughed, shaking my head. “So, you’re absolutely sure you don’t want to date a guy? Because that man there…God d—n.” She smirked. “That voice! Mmm-hmm!”

    “You should hear his real voice,” I confided, matching her conspiratorial smile. “It’s almost enough to get me to take the plunge.”

    We shared a giggle for a moment, and then I sighed, releasing the changes I’d made to my appearance, letting them slowly evaporate away. To her credit, though Tam gasped quietly as she watched, she didn’t flinch or move away. “It hurt me. Losing you,” I admitted.

    “It hurt me, too,” she conceded.

    “You know,” I said. “Someone very wise once told me, when it hurts to say goodbye, that’s when you know it was worth it to say hello.” I looked at her again, holding her eyes with mine. “I know we’ve both changed—some of us more than others!—and I know that it’s never going to be easy. But I think, if we were willing to try, we just might be able to squeeze a bit more hurt out of this thing.”

    She looked down at the floor, letting out a long breath. “I…” she started, her voice unsure. “I…don’t know if I want that anymore, Chri—uh, Virial.” She shook her head. “But…I won’t say no to trying. I just can’t make any promises. I’m still not entirely sure you won’t try to eat me.”

    “I understand,” I said, nodding. I stood up, offering her my hand. “And I don’t blame you.”

    She took my hand and I pulled her up. As she reached her feet she leaned in, wrapping me in a quick hug. “But no matter what happens, thank you for telling me all that stuff. It…helped me understand a bit better, at least.”

    After several long moments, we finally pulled apart, and she went back to her tasks, departing after a few minutes.

    “Someone very wise, Lady Vi?” Brax remarked as soon as the door had shut. “I will take the compliment!”

    I had known he was able to hear us the entire time; Brax had long ago mastered the art of the cat nap. “Don’t think that this means I going to start listening to you more. Most of the things you say still make no d--n sense to me.” I turned to look at him, and his coppery eyes opened, gleaming in the dim light. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

    He considered before responding. “It is always very hard for us to have a real connection to mortals,” he admitted. “We are so very different, and even the shortest-lived of our people will inevitably watch them die before us.” He smiled that warm smile of his. “But we must never forget why we do what we do. And if this is what you need to remain connected to the world you serve, Lady Vi, then it is never a mistake.”

    I nodded, mulling over his words. “Thanks, Brax. What was it I called you?”

    “Wise?”

    “Yeah. I think I was right about that.”

    Once again we settled in, watching and waiting. Brax dozed for most of the time, while I retrieved the tablet from my bag and brushed up on another new skill I had developed recently. Around 3:30 in the morning, I called down an order to the kitchen. They were very confused, and when the orderly with the cart showed up nearly an hour later, she checked her clipboard three times before she was satisfied all of it was going to the same room.

    I had just unwrapped the fourth cheeseburger and was hungrily wolfing it down when Tam entered again. “Geez, hungry much?” She mocked, looking at the laden tray. There were three more burgers, two omelets, and a giant stack of sausages left. “Are you going to share any of that with you friend, or are you hoarding it all? Hate to tell you, honey, but winter’s already here.”

    Brax, back at his place by the window, waved off her concern. “I am fine; it will be several days before I grow hungry.”

    She stopped to look at him, and then turned to stare at me, an amused look on her face.

    “What?” I asked, pausing in my meal.

    “I guess that’s not a trait you inherited?” She chided.

    “Hey,” I said, pointing my burger at Brax accusingly. “That trick is a lot harder to learn than he makes it sound. Besides, I’m bigger than him, I need a lot more calories. And I’m still growing. So there.” I finished the burger in two quick bites then turned to the first of the omelets.

    Tam snorted, an incredibly indelicate sound. “You people are really weird. I’m here to tell you that I’m heading out. The next shift is starting so you’ll have a new nurse stopping in, and the doctor assigned to ‘Mr. Gold’ should be around to check up on some things.”

    I nodded along with her words, stopping my feast to listen to her. When she finished, I dabbed my face with a napkin and smiled at her. “Thank you. For all your help.”

    “Don’t mention it. I might have second thoughts,” she said. “So…I guess you’ll still be here when I get back tonight?”

    I felt a subtle urging; Brax was giving me an opening to go with her. I sent him a silent thanks and stood up. “Actually, Brax can hold down the fort for a bit. If it’s okay, I thought maybe I’d walk you out?”

    “Sure,” she nodded. “Give me ten minutes to finish up and we’ll head?”

    “Sounds good,” I smiled, standing up and stretching. “I’ll be here.”

    When the prescribed amount of time had passed, Tam stuck her head in. The doctor had arrived in the meantime, so I amped up my despondent wife routine and made an exit, leaving Brax alone with him. Tam and I walked in silence through the twisting hallways, until we reached the elevator bank and had stepped in.

    “They heard me yelling at you earlier,” she told me. “Got me written up; apparently shouting ‘f—k you,’ at a patient’s wife is considered to be in poor taste.”

    “I’m sorry,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have…”

    “No, no mind control on my co-workers, please,” she asserted. “At least not more than you have to. You scared me, showing up back from the dead with your weird eyes and your super-speed, but I should at least have been professional enough to tell you to f—k off quietly.” She tilted her head, looking at me. “What is up with your eyes, anyway? When you first…you know…they were black. Then when I went over to your place that day, they had started to turn red. Now they’re…what? Almost gold…”

    I smiled. “We change color as we get older. We start off black, then go through the spectrum. Our eyes are usually the same color as our scales.”

    She shook her head in wonder. “Every single time you tell me something about your…people? Kind? …Species?”

    “Whatever works,” I assured her.

    “People. I think that there’s no possible way you could get any weirder. But I’m always wrong.”

    “Heh,” I laughed. “Trust me, you don’t even know the half of it. I’m still learning new things about us to this day. Some of it I kinda wish I didn’t know.”

    The elevator slowed on the second floor, the door opening to admit an elderly couple, both using walkers. Turning the conversation to a more mundane track, I continued. “So, RN, huh? You finally did it, all that hard work paid off!”

    “Yeah,” she nodded. “It’s not quite what I expected, but I still love my job. But I’m still new, it’s only been two years since I graduated, so they’ve got me doing a lot of scud work to learn the ropes.” We stopped on the ground floor, and Tam and I held the doors for the couple so they could get off, then continued out through the main entryway into the dark early morning. “I take the bus to get home,” she said, pointing to the south. “How soon do you need to get back?”

    “I’ve got time; Brax is focused, and he’s got really sharp senses, even in his second skin, I…” I stopped. “Sorry, even in his human form. I can make sure you get home, or if I’m starting to get on your nerves I’ll probably just fly around, see if I can find the guys we’re after.”

    “Keep saying weird s—t like that and you will definitely start to get on my nerves, but you’re not quite there yet,” she threatened, although with levity in her tone. She looked at me askance as we walked. “I do like the short hair on you, though,” she complimented. “And d—n, girl, you got ripped!”

    I raised an arm, flexing in an exaggerated fashion. “Ah yeah, baby!” I bragged, injecting my voice with fake machismo. “Like coiled steel!”

    That elicited a genuine laugh from her. “Oh my God, that was great!” She sniffed, wiping a tear from her eye. “But never say that again, that was just…cheesy!”

    “But a good cheesy, right? A gruyere, maybe an emmental. A gouda, at the very least, I mean come on!”

    We walked, debating the merits of various fine cheeses in comparison to my joke. Tam needed three buses to get home, and our playful banter continued for the first two rides. We discussed very little of substance—I could feel that she still hadn’t really had time to fully process all that had happened last night and this morning, so I contented myself with keeping things light. And besides, I really enjoyed being able to joke with my best friend once again.

    The second bus pulled away, leaving us at the stop for Tam’s final connection. A highway overpass whispered with traffic above us. I laughed at her recounting of a time at her internship where she’d accidentally walked in on two patients “playing doctor” in a room when my instincts suddenly screamed at me.

    Without hesitation I pushed Tam away from the street and interposed myself just as an enormous, blistering stream of fire blasted in from above. I whipped my hand in front of me and calmed my thoughts, creating a disk of Serenity in front of me. As the fire reached me, the disk whisked it away, forcing the beam of flames to spread out harmlessly around us. A dark shape, the source of the fire, dropped gracefully from the underside of the bridge, landing in the middle of the street off to my right side.

    “Ah, Virial,” the shape hissed as it slunk forward, and sinister sizzle echoes in its words. “Out for a walk with your little human? Where might Abraxas be?”

    The creature moved down the street circling us slowly, rippling waves of heat rising from its mouth with each breath. It was long and sinuous, covered in black scales with short horns that bent forward with vicious points. The whip-like tail flicked as it walked, moving with a panther’s casual power. The eyes glinted red like two dying embers, and a scar of cracked scales and ruined flesh traced itself through the left eye. To anyone else, he would have looked like a Mauna, one of my brothers, but he was no such thing.
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-09-07 at 07:00 PM.

  4. - Top - End - #4
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    "Reunion, Part 2"
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    “Heeeey, Jor…” I said uneasily. “Look, I enjoy our little get-togethers as much as the next girl, and I’d love to even out your face for you, but this is sort of a bad time. Do you think we could pick this up again a bit later?” As I spoke, I looked around, trying to find a place I could stash Tam if things got ugly. I might be fireproof, but she wasn’t, and Jor was a quick-draw artist and crack shot with his flame. I couldn’t engage him before she was under cover.

    I felt Tam shivering as she peeked over my shoulder, and I used my free arm to shield her, my right arm held out maintaining my invisible flame barrier. “What’s going on?” She asked in fright.

    “Just stay back.”

    “It looks like you, why is it attacking us?”

    “He is not like me,” I almost spat. “Not anymore.”

    “Yes, be careful little one,” Jor purred. “The Mauna get a mite touchy about being reminded that they’re not so perfect.”

    A powerful exhalation of breath sounded behind us, and Tam jumped. “Chrissy!” She squeaked.

    A second black scaled creature had appeared behind us, and I recognized him as well. The frill of straight, swept-back horns, the pensive snout, the rippling crest that covered short, urchin-like spines. Things had just gotten very bad. The newcomer sniffed again, a powerful sound. S—t.

    “Hey Oros, you’re here, too? Where’s Faffy, we can make this into a thing.”

    Oros ignored me, approaching Tam and sniffing again, the powerful exhalation rippling her clothes. She screamed and dropped her backpack, almost crawling up my back to get away.

    “Get your filthy snout away from her, naraka!” I snarled at him. Despite how much I wanted to interpose myself, I stayed where I was. If I moved to block Oros, Jor would have a wide open shot at Tam, and he was bloodthirsty enough to take it.

    “Chrissy, do something!” Tam pressed, her voice grower higher-pitched by the second.

    “She cannot,” Oros said, his voice slippery as oil. “If we see even a glint of her Spark, my compatriot will roast you where you stand.” But he slithered off, making a small circle before approaching again.

    “Chrissy!” Jor guffawed. “To think, the Mighty Virial was once ‘Chrissy!’”

    I sighed. Again with this? “Really? You’re making fun of my old mortal name? At least I’m not pompous enough to name myself ‘Jormungandr!’ You’re what, twenty-five feet long, maybe? Not quite the imposing World Serpent, there, pal.”

    I joked, but we were in a dire straight. Oroborus being here as well made things ten times worse. These beasts were naraka, the colorless, Mauna who had been stripped of their Sparks for the betrayal of our purpose. While that meant that many of the incredible abilities we possess were no longer available to them, there still retained some things, like Jor’s fiery breath and Oros’s ability to breathe underwater. But most importantly, the one trait that the naraka retained was their skill with the Craft. Willcraft is an entirely natural ability, no divine power needed, and with their divine powers removed, most naraka became exceptionally skilled with it.

    Jor was a brute—a pyromaniac psychopath who’s only real talents lay in mindless destruction; even after becoming naraka he was a poor Crafter. I could beat him easily, even in my second skin. But Oros was one of the top three Crafters in the world, and he was skilled in many of the finer, more subtle arts. That meant that if he was here, I could take nothing at face value. He could have Jor wrapped up in so many workings that I couldn’t lay a finger on him, or have an army of bound spirits or ghosts waiting in the wings to kill us the moment I tried a move. But the real problem was the sniffing. Another of Oros’s many talents was alchemy, and he was uncanny in his ability to deduce complex chemical formulae through his sense of smell. We had just come from a hospital, and Tam was a nurse—she reeked of medical compounds, and I had no doubt that’s why Oros was so interested in her.

    I felt a shift in Brax’s mood—he had noticed my distress. I flicked a quick mental message to him, sending him a series of images of Jor, Oros, and our location. He was on his way. I needed to keep these two talking until he got here.

    “So, Oros, how’s Dalthreen doing?” I asked. “Oh, that’s right—you can’t talk to him anymore, can you? What’s it like, being alone in your own head, huh?”

    “It is quite refreshing, to be frank,” he replied, still focusing intently on Tam. “And I am much happier without that coward nattering on at me all day.”

    “Coward? Do you know what he did during World War II? He saved thousands of lives, stopped both the Axis and the allies from burning down entire forests. Oros—Esperiak—you were a hero then. What happened to you?”

    The mention of his old name finally got his attention. He walked partially around Tam to look me in the eye, although unfortunately he wasn’t stupid enough to line up with Jor. “A hero? No, he was a slave, just like you. A simpering coward hiding behind worthless ideals, too afraid of what others might think to set himself free.” He glared at me. “That name is a slave collar, and I do not wear it any longer.” He turned back, approaching Tam again and giving several more sniffs, muttering what sounded like chemical formulae under his breath.

    “Look, I get it,” I said, trying to keep his attention. “You’re tired. You didn't want to go on fighting what seemed like a losing battle for no reward. I can understand that. So why stay? You’ve already lost your Spark, you’re mortal now. You’ve got your ticket out of here, why not just take it and go? You might not want to fight the good fight against the long odds, but why not give those of us who do the best chance we can get?”

    He grinned. “Is that what I should do? Lay down and die so you can get a new soldier, a new dupe for your lost cause? Will you make the same speech for Master Jormungandr?”

    “Oh no, I’m killing Jor,” I said simply (he snorted a gout of flame as I did). “But you used to be so great, I want to give you the opportunity to go out doing the right thing.”

    “What you believe is right and what I do are two very different things,” Oros said. “And I do believe I’ve determined why events weren’t progressing as expected.” He glanced at his partner. “You were less than effective this time—the target is still alive.”

    “Impossible!” Jor fumed, tongues of fire flickering around his jaws as he did. “I torched him like all the others. She couldn’t have saved him.”

    “No, she couldn’t have saved him. Not alone. This precious thing helped her.” His eyes narrowed, and his voice became even more oily. “Look at me, my sweet,” he commanded. Even though her mind was screaming at her not to, Tam turned, staring into Oros’ eyes.

    “Get out of her head, you bastard,” I snarled.

    “You’re welcome to try and stop me, slave,” Oros taunted, his gleaming red eyes locked with my friend’s. “Though I’d hate to see what happens to her if you made the attempt.”

    Jor snickered, hissing like some giant snake. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose, or if that was his actual voice now. I hoped it was just him being a pretentious prick—if I went through with Kyrala’s plan, I would be spending the majority of my (vastly reduced) lifetime as a naraka myself, and I really didn’t want to sound that cliché. I stood there, holding up my serene barrier to ward off Jor, fuming that Oros was getting his hooks into my friend.

    “Come now,” he sing-songed gently, weaving subtle Craft into his words. “What hospital do you work at, my sweet? You can tell me…”

    “W-what hospital?” Tam repeated, thoroughly confused. “U…University of Chicago…”

    If I hadn’t trained my Balance as hard as I had, I may very well have fallen over. Elleman was at Northwestern Memorial, not U of C. I had no idea how Tam had fooled Oros’s suggestion, but I had to admire her mental fortitude. Now I just needed to get him out of her head before he realized the trick too.

    Thankfully, I always have someone to watch my back. I reached deep into my Spark, calling up as much speed as I could without drawing it fully, and golden steam blazed from my skin as I shifted. I had to drop my barrier to do so, and the instant my skin began to glow Jor’s jaws were open a massive stream of greedily crackling flame rushing towards us.

    Oros had jumped back, not wanting to be near my true form and trying to get out of Jor’s line of devastation, which was exactly what we’d expected him to do. I dove into Jor’s flame as a thunderous cracking sound erupted behind me. The concrete of the sidewalk twisted and warped, jumping up and slamming together to form a box around Tam as Brax dropped his camouflage and leapt into battle. His trumpeting roar sounded like the battle horn of some long lost earth god, shaking the ground beneath our feet. He landed on the box of concrete then pounced down onto Oros, his head tilted forward to spear the naraka with his vicious horns.

    Time dilated as divine power burned through me, everything slowing down as I remained the same speed. My shift completed just as the blast of flame reached me, splashing harmlessly off my armor. I surged across the street; Jor had underestimated my speed and wandered too close, and I covered the thirty-odd feet between us in a flash. I didn’t bother with my own fire; he was as impervious as I was. Instead I lashed out with my talons, aiming for his right eye - I had been serious about wanting to even out his face. But as my claws approached, it felt like the air turned into mud, the strength leeched from my sinews. Even my headlong charge was impeded, and although I outsized Jor by nearly five feet I barely knocked him down.

    Oros had been prepared—he'd put an entropy shield around Jor, dispersing hostile force just before impact. And who knows what other surprises he had in store for me. As Jor gathered himself to launch at me, his jaws dripping with fire, I refocused my energy, letting go of my speed and applying it elsewhere. My golden scales flickered, absorbing the light as it struck me and reemitting it elsewhere, an adaptive camouflage that made me near perfectly invisible. Brax couldn’t maintain the concentration necessarily to camouflage himself and fight at the same time, but my Spark had much more experience than his, and that experience, coupled with training, allowed me to stretch our abilities much further.

    I slipped back, dancing lightly on my talons to minimize my noise and prevent Jor from finding me. I did it very well, so I was quite surprised when Jor lunged directly at my throat without hesitation. I jerked to the side, and barely got a talon up in time to deflect his bite. While the slam would have been enough to knock off his jaw, the veil of sucking entropy that shrouded him made it barely a tap. He landed on his feet, his eyes meeting mine directly. “I see you, Virial!” He hissed with glee. He leapt forward again and we re-engaged, a swirling blur of teeth and claws.

    As we fought, I heard Oros’s frustrated shouting, and sensed the muted satisfaction that Brax was taking in his battle. We had been planning this encounter for quite some time—if we were to find the naraka, I would take Jor and Fafnir while Brax handled Oros until he inevitably wormed away somehow. While Brax himself had very little natural talent for Willcraft, his predecessor Amalia had been a true prodigy at the art. Brax had not inherited that gift, but with Amalia’s guidance he had honed what little skill he had to perfection. While he could never match Oros in raw power, he could unweave any working the wily Crafter tried to put together, effectively stymying Oros’s best asset. And all the while, Oros, who had never been that physically capable to begin with, would have to contend with Brax’s enhanced speed and strength that was focused through his vorpal teeth, claws, and horns, as well as avoid being crushed by the rare Earth power that he wielded.

    Oros lasted longer than I expected; nearly ten seconds of the battle passed before I heard a familiar rushing sound that indicated he’d opened a portal, likely prepared ahead of time to prevent countering. The portal would lead to somewhere under the ocean; Oros could breathe underwater and would be in no danger, but it would be suicide for Brax or I to follow.

    “Brax!” I shouted, my voice crackling like an inferno and rumbling like a thundercloud. “A little help!”

    To his credit, Jor saw that his partner had left him and it was now two on one, and made the smart decision to turn and flee, living to fight another day. Unfortunately for him, we’re both very fast. And I can fly.

    Wind whipped around me as I leapt into the air. I paused at the apex of my jump, waiting for the signal from Brax that Jor’s shield was down. I felt it in my mind the instant Brax had the barrier unraveled, and I launched myself down on Jor like a missile, gathering all the speed and strength I could. My talons landed square between his shoulders, and I felt the crack of bone and scale rippling through him. The flame died from his jaws immediately, and he went limp. The asphalt beneath him shattered at the force of my landing, and his collapsing ribcage squirted viscera out both sides.

    I stood panting for a few moments; I had used a fair amount of my energy, and I hadn’t slept at all last night. I was tired. But I looked around and felt with my mind, searching. We had made a lot of noise. Even though the area was secluded and we were in the quiet hours before the daily rush started, someone might have seen us. I couldn’t feel or see anything, but that didn’t mean we’d gotten away scott-free. I had to hope only one cell phone had caught us—one video on YouTube was a hoax; two, from different angles no less, was something worth looking into.

    I looked at Brax; he was looking around too, but he shook his head. His Senses were much sharper than mine, so it appeared we’d gotten lucky. Almost simultaneously, we snapped back into our second skins and trotted over to the concete box. Brax gave a small flick of his hand and the concrete screamed again, twisting and falling back into its original place.

    Tam screamed as the barrier deconstructed itself, covering her head with her arms. When a moment passed without anything happening, she peeked up, her breathing going an incredibly clip. “Oh my God!” She screamed, nearly delirious with fear. She launched herself into my arms, crying from shock and terror and relief.

    “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, holding her tightly. “They’re gone.” I nodded at Jor’s body laying collapsed and bloody in the middle of the street. “Find something to do with that,” I told Brax.

    “Yes, Lady Vi,” he agreed, moving to pick up the long, snake-like body. Though Jor weight several hundred pounds, Brax was able to coil his body up and carry it. He looked around, deciding on a course of action, then wandered off.

    After a moment of sobbing, Tam quieted down and moved away. “I’m so sorry,” I told her, rubbing her arm. “I keep having to say that, don’t I? They’ve been avoiding us the entire time we’ve been chasing them, I never expected them to try and track me down.”

    “How can you do this? Is this what your life is like now?” She asked stepping back and staring directly at me.

    I gave a small nod. “Yeah, some of it.”

    She shook her head. “I don’t understand. And…” she looked away, hugging herself tightly. “And I can’t deal with it. I’m sorry, Chrissy, but I just can’t deal with it.”

    I nodded again. Somewhere in the distance, there was a crack, then a rumbling sound. Brax was disposing of Jor. “I understand. And once again, I’m so very sorry I got you wrapped up in this.”

    I waited there with her in silence until her bus arrived five minutes later. The driver surveyed the scene, the destroyed concrete, the asphalt that looked like a meteor had struck it, and the scorch marks blazed everywhere, his eyes wide. “I think I saw kids playing with fireworks a little earlier,” I told him. He gave a stunned nod, saying nothing.

    Tam get on the bus, flashing her pass in front of the scanner with a beep. She turned to look at me one last time. “It still hurts,” she said quietly.

    “Yeah. It does.”

    After the bus left, I reconvened with Brax. I didn’t need to ask about Jor’s body. I knew no one would find it. "Looks like we'll have a new Spark coming in soon," I commented.

    "Yes. I'll inform Dallan that there are now only four naraka left. And to keep his eyes open for our new brother or sister."

    I said nothing, only nodding at his words.

    “I’m sorry, Lady Vi,” he said, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It is as I said. It is very hard to have a connection with mortals.”

    “But you also said that if it’s what I need, then it’s never a mistake.”

    He nodded. He didn’t understand my meaning, but he could feel my resolve.

    I had finally decided. I loved Tam. Not as a potential partner, but as a friend. And even though she would never again be a part of my life, the memory of the small joys we had shared just a few short years ago were important to me. I could never let those little jewels be destroyed.

    I would finish what Kyrala had started, no matter the cost to my soul.
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-09-13 at 12:16 PM.

  5. - Top - End - #5
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Quite an interesting story, and well-written. The pacing in particular is excellent--I really enjoy watching you build to a moment.

    I think putting Hatching and Reunion together was an effective choice. On the other hand, I feel like Flying Lessons suffered a little from coming after Virial and Kyrala.

    In the latter, at the end--I'm not quite feeling the weight of the decision Virial is faced with. Partly it's that I haven't grown attached to the past lives, and I'm not sure how attached Virial has grown--that's just story that hasn't been told. Part of it is that I'm not sure Kyrala is ready to release agency for that decision to Virial. And part of it is that the ending is just a little bit crowded, emotionally speaking. The hope of the plan, the weight of the sacrifice, the transfer of agency--it's a bit much to take in at once. That's my opinion, anyway.

    I'm excited to read more, should you post it. (No pressure.)
    Last edited by Lethologica; 2016-09-09 at 05:25 PM.

  6. - Top - End - #6
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    Quite an interesting story, and well-written. The pacing in particular is excellent--I really enjoy watching you build to a moment.

    I think putting Hatching and Reunion together was an effective choice. On the other hand, I feel like Flying Lessons suffered a little from coming after Virial and Kyrala.
    Thank you ! Both for taking the time to read it all, and for your kind words!

    I'm in agreement with you on your points: Virial and Kyrala was the first actual piece in this world that I wrote, and it was really the first bit of writing I've done in years, so I have no doubts that it has problems. My friend that I mentioned read it when that was all that existed and wanted to know more, so I wrote the Primer and Flying Lessons for her.

    After I wrote Hatching I intended to do something else completely unrelated, but I enjoyed writing the interaction between Vi and Tam so much that I dove right into Reunion. Plus, I wanted to show Vi as all grown up and competent and such!

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    In the latter, at the end--I'm not quite feeling the weight of the decision Virial is faced with. Partly it's that I haven't grown attached to the past lives, and I'm not sure how attached Virial has grown--that's just story that hasn't been told. Part of it is that I'm not sure Kyrala is ready to release agency for that decision to Virial. And part of it is that the ending is just a little bit crowded, emotionally speaking. The hope of the plan, the weight of the sacrifice, the transfer of agency--it's a bit much to take in at once. That's my opinion, anyway.
    Oh yes, I agree. I will likely go back and try and fix that at some point, but at the moment I'm focusing on adding more to the story and lore. Once again, I plead Rusty Writing Skills !

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    I'm excited to read more, should you post it. (No pressure.)
    Well...I did just finish another piece, this one entitled "Fallen." It's set twenty-one to twenty-two years after "Reunion," and just from that you can probably guess what it's about, even before I tell you it's intimately related to the last line of "Reunion."

    But I don't want to share it just yet. That one I want to comb through and do some actual editing on before I share it, so that it can be as good as I can get it with what skill I have. That and I feel parts of it are a little...cliché, so I want to see if there is no better way to do it first.

    If you want more, than I ask for your help! Tell me what you want to see in this world, or between what characters, and I'll try to come up with something! Currently, I have the germs of the follow scene ideas:

    --When Vi shows Tam what happened to her after her Hatching;
    --Vi getting her Mauna name, and the origin of dragon names in general;
    --Vi's first solo mission.

    Additionally, the friend who initially pushed me into starting this project has asked to see what dragons do on their days off, so I'm thinking about that.

    I write best when I'm writing for an audience, so the best way to get more is to tell me what you want!

    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-09-10 at 04:09 PM.
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  7. - Top - End - #7
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Okay, here's Fallen. I'm not entirely happy with it, and I'm sure there's still a bunch of editing left to do.

    Please let me know what you think, and what I might do to improve it...

    "Fallen; Part I"
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    The screaming was all around me. Shrieks of mindless terror, the wailing of unhinged spirits, ungodly squeals of visceral agony. I had closed my eyes, trying to block out the horror, but each scream pierced through me like a lance, tearing at my heart. It was going to start soon. Maybe this time I’d hear it. Maybe this time, the pain would be worth it. Just a little…

    As always, I felt it when it happened, as I was torn in half. The pain was unimaginable, but I couldn’t escape it; I had to wait until it was over…

    I woke, tears staining my cheeks, although I didn’t cry. I never cried anymore. I waited, looking out the window at the fading evening light, the sun setting behind the dilapidated apartments and crumbling warehouses. The noise of the city trundled on around me, hardly muted by the thin walls. The tiny clock told me it was 5:37.

    “Good morning, Ky…” I whispered.

    There was no reply. There never was.

    My finger slipped out from under the sheets to my nightstand, wrapping around the cool metal lighter that sat there. I flicked off the covers, drawing my knees up to my chest, gently turning the device over in my fingers. I felt the tingle of my Craft buzzing slightly across my skin, and I took a moment to inspect it, to comb through the invisible web I wore that kept me safe, that kept me lost. It was running low on energy, so I spun more from around me, gathering it and shaping it, weaving it into the veil. My working was coming apart; another week or two and I’d have to make a new one.

    After I finished, I opened the lighter and flicked on the tiny flame. It burned in front of me, the little spark of light. I stared at it, watching its movement. Occasionally it would flicker, but it was just a breeze from the vent, or a twitch of my hand. The light from the sun slowly faded, and eventually I stole a glance at my clock once again. It said it was now 7:43. It was time to go.

    I got out of bed slowly, moving about my tiny, dirty, cluttered apartment as I got prepared for my day. Clothes and discarded fast food containers littered the floor. I was hungry, but I didn’t have the energy to eat anything. Instead I stepped into the shower, cleaning myself off, then dressed and packed up my backpack with the things I’d need. Just before I left, I opened my lighter, filling the reservoir with water from the sink. Once it was full, I Crafted the water into lighter fluid, reassembled the casing, then stepped out. I didn’t lock the door—I’d lost my keys, but there wasn’t anything in there I was worried about having stolen, anyway.

    My destination was nearly three miles away, but I walked, my bag bumping against my back as I did. I didn’t look around much; my feet knew the route by now, and I didn’t like seeing the city, anyways. I started north—most of the buildings here were only a year or two old, but they already looked run down. They’d been put up in haste: millions of people had been out of homes, and they didn’t have time for fancy houses or nice apartments, so they’d put up what they could, often cannibalizing warehouses or strip malls whose owners had died or fled to do so, and then left to build elsewhere.

    After a little more than a mile, my feet turned east, pointing me towards the heart of Jersey City. I wasn’t going all the way into the city, and I was thankful for that. There were still toppled buildings they hadn’t had the time or the money to remove, and the towering, gnarled trees that sprouted from odd places held a spiritual stink that disturbed me, even now.

    A few blocks after my turn, I stopped. The acrid stink of smoke tickled my nose, and for the first time since I’d left home I looked up. A column of thick black fumes was rising in the distance, the source perhaps eight to ten blocks to my left. While fires weren’t uncommon anymore, this was bigger than simply a car engine that had gone up or a copse of trees someone had set ablaze. I looked down the street towards my destination and then back towards the smoke, considering.

    “Vi, you’re late!” Angelique scolded as I walked in through the rear entrance.

    “Tell me something I don’t know.” I walked briskly to my station, dropping my bag onto the chair as I got myself ready.

    “Is that smoke?” she asked, sniffing as I passed.

    “Yeah, probably.”

    “You didn’t set a house on fire or nothin’, did you?” She accused, standing behind me as I prepared for work. “I’ve seen you with that lighter, always staring at the fire,” she continued. “Mesmerized.”

    “I don’t set things on fire,” I said, anger starting to creep into my words. “I need to get ready.”

    “Yeah you do,” she agreed, glancing at her watch. “You got four minutes. I ain’t covering for your a—s again! And you’re on bar tonight. That gonna be a problem?”

    “Not unless someone makes it one.”

    I ignored her after that, rushing through my prep routine and getting changed out of my street clothes. I finished just in time, moving to stand behind the curtain that led to the stage. “Here we go again, Ky…” I whispered.

    There was no reply. There never was.

    I plastered a fake smile on my face as the speakers squealed feedback. “OKAY, FELLAS!” The announcer, Roy, called out over the sound system. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR THE ONE AND ONLY…VICKY BLACK!”

    I strutted through the curtain into the light to the cheers and jeers of the crowd. But as always, although I could put on a pretty good face, I saw none of it. I treated the dance like a sequence from some obscure martial art, refining my focus, perfecting each movement, even as the clothes fell from my body and the men howled louder.

    I wasn’t trying to make money, although I did, more than the other girls. I was trying to remember…

    After I finished my dance, I brushed back behind the curtain to my station, plucking wadded bills from places I really didn’t want them to be and stuffing them in my bag. From my left, another of my co-workers, Gloria, stomped into prep room, huffing.

    “That creepy guy is back again,” she informed us all. “I think he’s a witch!”

    I knew the man she was talking about, he was a semi-regular. I had looked him over the first time the accusation had flown, and there was not a trace of the Craft in him.

    “He’s not a witch,” I said, shaking my head.

    “How do you know?” Gloria asked, eyeing me skeptically. “Are you a witch?”

    “No,” I said flatly.

    “Well, then how do you know?”

    I stopped, looking at her. “If he were a witch, why would he spend all his time here?” I asked.

    The look on her face indicated that she had a sharp reply ready for me, but I was saved from having to listen to it when a hand touched my shoulder. “Hey Vi,” I followed the arm with my eyes up to Cathy’s face. “Jack’s in the back, he wants to talk to you,” she informed me, hooking a thumb toward the hallway that led to the office.

    “Thanks.” I didn’t look back at Gloria so she could have no excuse to continue to berate me, instead threading my way through the throng of girls and heading down the short hallway to where the door stood ajar.

    “Hey, Vicky!” Jack said as I pushed the door open, waving me over as he sat in the chair, his eyes trained on the computer.

    I shut the door behind me, blocking out most of the thumping music and hooting cheers from the floor. “What?” I asked.

    “Hey, this d—n thing is actin’ up again, you think you could take a look?” He stood up, offering me the chair.

    Jack was almost the perfect stereotype for a New Jersey strip bar owner: tall, thin, with a rapidly receding hairline, pointed nose, and squinty eyes, his accent thick and aggressive. But having worked with him for a while, I knew that the exterior was only skin deep. He was a hard-working man who valued fairness, just trying to make it the best he could after he lost near everything after the world turned upside down.

    I strolled over and sat in the chair, rolling it forward to position my hands on the keyboard and mouse. “What’s it doing?”

    “I dunno, it’s like it keeps glitchin’, you know? I click “Save” it don’t save, it’s takin’ too long to bring stuff up, you know, the usual.”

    I clicked around, minimizing the bookkeeping program he had open and going into the directories, searching for the source of the problem. I could see some of what he was saying already: the mouse pointer was jerking slightly and it was taking a while (or at least longer than usual, for how old his machine was) for it to access programs and register commands. “Looks like you got a bug somehow,” I told him.

    I looked a few things over, trying to determine how the virus had gotten into the system. “D—n artifice,” I muttered.

    “Why do you always say that?” Jack asked as I worked. “You never say ‘technology,’ you always call it…that.”

    I laughed under my breath. “I…uh, this teacher I had. When I was…younger. He always called it that. Guess it rubbed off on me.” Finding what I was looking for, I pulled up the internet and trolled through the history, selecting the obvious culprit. At my click, a web site, black background with dozens of video links outlined in garish pink appeared on the screen. “There you go,” I said. “That’s how it got here. Tell Tony that if he wants to see naked girls, he can just go out to the floor.”

    “He’s not supposed to be able to do that,” Jack insisted, pointing at the screen. “How—”

    “He turned off some of the security filters,” I explained. I cleared out the offending web site from several places, making it as though the computer had never touched it, as much as I could. “I’ve already turned ‘em back on for you. Now I just gotta…” Clearing the virus would be tricky. There was very little diagnostic software on the ancient machine, and what there was the virus could easily have affected, making itself invisible to any program designed to remove it.

    I clicked around aimlessly a little—Jack wouldn’t know what he was seeing onscreen—and began Crafting, assembling a working with my mind. This wasn’t one I had practiced, so it took me longer than I wanted it to, teasing the proper elements out of the ether and snapping them into the position I needed. When I was done, I bent down, pretending to inspect the tower that sat on the floor. As I did, I placed my hand on top, allowing my working to sink into the circuitry, giving me direct access to every function the computer had.

    I found the virus, learned what it had done, and then broke it down, scattering its code so it would never be able to reassemble. I sat back up, reviewing things properly now. The mouse pointer was crisp and clean, the function of the computer faster than it really should be. “Alright, I cleared the bug,” I told him, looking around to make sure there wasn’t anything I’d missed. “I think it got some data out, though, so you’re gonna want to change the administrator password, at the very least.” I shrugged. “You’d probably want to do that anyway, because it looks like Tony knows it.”

    I glanced up at him. “Do you use the same password for other things? E-mail, banking?”

    “Yeah,” he said.

    “You’ll want to change it on those, too.” I stood up, offering him back his seat.

    “Thank you, Vicky! My God, you’re a lifesaver!” He sat back down, pulling up the program I’d minimized and continuing his work. “This is great! It’s like it’s brand new!” He settled in, rolling his shoulders as he focused. “Now all’s I gotta do is figure out why these numbers ain’t balancin’…”

    I moved to leave, my task finished, when something on the screen caught my eye. I bent over to get a better look. “Jack, this is an accounting program,” I told him.

    “Yeah, I know, I use if for accounting!” He said, gesturing at the screen.

    “Jack, you need to enter a period in every single box, or else the program is going to put it in for you, and it’ll probably be in the wrong place. Here…”

    Leaning over him, I brushed his hands away and navigated through the software, finding and correcting the decimals that made no sense. “There,” I said, standing back. “Everything balances!”

    “Why are you here?” Jack asked. His eyes were going back and forth from the computer to me, a thoughtful expression on his face.

    “Rent’s not cheap, even in post-D housing,” I answered, making for the door.

    “No now, come on!” He said, standing up.

    I turned to look at him, and he shuffled on his feet, a hand on his chin as he considered his words. “It’s like, you remember that guy? Got knifed in the parking lot last month?”

    I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t likely to forget that.

    “You went out, kept him going ‘til the ambulance gets here. EMT said there are doctors at the hospital he works at can’t do a patch job that good,” Jack told me, giving me a significant look.

    “It’s like this,” he continued, spreading his arms momentarily as he turned to look at the computer. “I call the tech guys, it takes ‘em a week to get out here, and when they do it takes ‘em half an hour to get this fixed, not five minutes. And with them, I don’t know if it’s really fixed or not, but with you I do. Plus I pay him four, five hundred bucks for the dubious pleasure.”

    “I take cash,” I said, turning again to leave.

    “Yeah, I know you do!” He countered, moving to intercept me. He grabbed my wrist just as I turned the knob. “Come on, Vicky, Vicky.”

    I turned slowly, looking him in the eye.

    “Look, kid, you got talent. You’re way too good for this place.” He gestured out towards the floor, trying to illustrate his point. “I seen a hundred girls come through here, I’ve not said that to one of ‘em. But I’m saying it to you. You shouldn’t be dancing, you should be out, I dunno, saving the world or some s—t.”

    I averted my eyes, shifting my stance uncomfortably.

    “Look, he continued. “I ain’t saying you’re not a good dancer. The punters love you, heck even I like seeing you dance, and I’m your boss, I’m not supposed to say that! You’ve got grace, and I don’t say that, neither. ‘Cept when I’m talking to Grace…”

    He waved his hands in front of his face, brushing that line of thought aside. “But that’s not the point. Look here. Most girls, they come here there’s one of three reasons: some of ‘em do it ‘cause it makes ‘em feel good about themselves, you know? Others, I see ‘em studying, reading books on their breaks, you know, they’re trying to earn money to go to school, move on. And some of ‘em, they do this ‘cause they’re not smart enough to do nothin’ else, looks is the only thing they got.

    “But you,” he looked down, gesturing at me. “You’re got smarts, more than anyone I know. You had a teacher so I think you already went to school. But what do you do? I see you out back, there. Every break, sitting behind the dumpster, playing with your lighter. It’s like you, I dunno, it’s like you’ve given up.” He looked around the office, trying to find the thoughts to continue. “Look,” he said again. “I know, the world got f—ed. And I ain’t sayin’ I understand what you lost, okay? Everybody lost somethin’ different. And sure, three years ain’t a lot of time to get yourself back together. But come on, Vicky, let me help you!

    “This thing, with the computer,” he offered, pointing behind him. “I can fire Tony, bring you on as assistant manager, huh? At least you won’t have to dance no more!”

    “Thanks, Jack,” I said. “Are we done? I’m on bar tonight.”

    “Yeah,” he answered, clearly disappointed. “Yeah, we’re done.” He moved back, shaking his head. I turned the knob and stepped back into the hallway. “But come on, Vicky, at least tell me why!”

    I closed the door on his question, but spent a moment leaning against it, letting out a long breath. “Because it’s the last place he’d look…” I whispered to myself.

    I pushed off the door, but stopped almost immediately. Angelique was there with another girl, Tracey. “What now?” I asked. “I told you, I’ll make up the time tonight.”

    “I got a call from my neighbor,” Tracey said in a small voice as Angelique stared. “There was a fire in our apartment building.”

    “Wow, that sucks,” I said, making the attempt to put empathy in my voice. “I hope your stuff’s okay.”

    She nodded slowly. “She was stuck, you know? By the fire? My neighbor.” She glanced an Angelique, then back at me. “But she said a girl with hair dyed black and red came in and got her out. Then went right back in and got out five more people before the fire department got there.”

    “You were late,” Angelique reminded me pointedly. “You smelled like smoke.”

    I shrugged. “It was on my way.”

    “Oh my God,” Tracey cried, coming forward and wrapping me in a hug. “Thank you so much! You’re a hero!”

    I waited while she hugged me, not hugging her back. “Please don’t thank me,” I said quietly.

    “What are you talking about? She’s eighty years old and lost a leg in the disaster! She would be dead if it wasn’t for you!”

    I pushed her arms off me gently, then put my own on her shoulders, holding her at arm length. I locked my eyes with hers. “I am not a hero. Don’t thank me.” I brushed by her, leaving her tearful and confused. I stopped just behind Angelique. “I’ll make up the time,” I assured her, then moved off towards the bar to do just that.

    I passed the rest of my shift just the same as any other. I mixed drinks, pretended to flirt with drunk men who asked pointless questions. I was called up to dance four more times, which was more than usual, but as Jack had said, I was a favorite. I counted my tips at the end of the night, hunger rumbling in my stomach. I needed to eat.

    I gathered my things, changing in the back room into my street clothes then pushing out the back door. As I reached the parking lot I stopped, considering where I was going to go for food. I had made a fair amount tonight, but I eat a lot more than other girls. I eat a lot more than humans do.

    “Hey, Vicky, right?” A voice slurred behind me.

    I turned. Two men had been standing near the door, smoking, and had approached when they same me. The one who had spoken was short, shorter than I was, with a giant belly poking out underneath his stained shirt. His buddy was tall and slim. These creeps always seemed to travel in pairs, fat and short, tall and slim. If I had been in the mood, I would have laughed at how cliché it was.

    I turned around, ignoring them, thinking about food. Pizza sounded good, and it was high in calories, so I wouldn’t need to buy as much. I started slowly off to the north.

    “Hey, sweetheart, I’m talkin’ to you!” Tubby called again. I heard the steps of him and Slim jogging to catch up with me. I could easily have out-paced them, but I was tired and hungry and didn’t feel like wasting the energy.

    “I’m off,” I called, not looking back.

    “Not yet, you ain’t!” Tubby snickered. “But I think I can change that! Come on, doll, I thought we was really connecting in there!”

    “Just because I pretend to find you fascinating when I’m on the clock doesn’t mean you aren’t a disgusting creep,” I informed him.

    “Well now, that’s just rude,” he scolded, the two of them catching up and matching my pace. “And I think maybe you need some lessons in manners…”

    “Be real careful what you do next,” I said. “Anything you touch me with you’re gonna lose.”

    “Is that so?” A hand grabbed my shoulder forcefully.

    As soon as it did, my own hand whipped up and locked onto his wrist. I squeezed, feeling the bones snap and shatter under my grip. Tubby squealed in pain, and I spun, yanking him up and over my shoulder and smashing him down onto the hood of a nearby car. As he flew, I heard his shoulder pop out of its socket, and the hood of the car caved in as he struck.

    “Holy s—t!” Slim exclaimed, staring in shock as his friend writhed slowly on the dented metal. As I turned to look at him, his hand disappeared inside the leather jacket he wore, coming out with a revolver that he proceeded to point in my face. “You! You’re one of them witches!” He accused, stumbling back a few steps.

    “Not even close,” I muttered. I turned and started to walk away.

    “Hey! Hey, stop!” He ordered.

    I looked over my shoulder at him; the gun was still aimed at my head, his finger shaking on the trigger. I built up a working in my mind, one I had practiced often, holding it ready.

    We stood there, watching each other for several moments, until I saw it in his eyes. I could have loosed my working then, but I didn’t. His finger squeezed, and I watched as the hammer fell down towards the cylinder. Just before it struck, I released, the matrix of energy and power wrapping tightly around the gun, finding its target. The hammer hit, but nothing happened, no crack of powder and no whizzing bullet.

    Slim stared in shock and fear, his eyes wider than they were probably supposed to go, looking between his gun and me. He pulled the trigger a few more times, but still nothing.

    I didn’t say anything, I just turned and left him there.

    Later, I returned to my apartment, five large pizzas with everything on them in my hand. I didn’t like everything on them, but calories-per-dollar it was the best I could do. As it was, I would still be hungry, considering the last time I’d eaten. I threw the boxes on the counter in the kitchen, on top of another three pizza boxes that I hadn’t bothered to take out, and ate ravenously.

    After I finished, I washed off the stink and make-up of work and sat on the floor, my lighter in hand. I flicked on the tiny light, staring deep into the flame, watching the interplay of color, the orange and yellow, smelling the sharp tang of the burning fluid. I’d been sloppy when I’d Crafted it, and it was burning less clean than usual. Occasionally the fire moved. But it was only my breath, the twitch of my hand, the rumble of a truck passing by outside.

    Eventually, my eyes sore, my stomach still complaining, I snapped the lighter shut. I went to my bedroom and dropped it on the nightstand, getting in bed without changing clothes. I pulled the covers over me, shivering slightly in the cold.

    “Good night, Ky…” I whispered.

    There was no reply. There never was.

    I closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep as the morning sun began to turn the black sky grey.

    In the dream, I was standing in that round, stone room. The doors stood open around me, the cacophonous screaming threatening to drown out thought. Streamers of light flowed from me through the doors, fueling the horrors that lay beyond.

    I knew it was going to happen soon. The indescribable, torturous pain. It had to; I could never wake up until after it was over. But maybe this time, for the first time in months, I’d hear it. And then it might be worth it.

    It started, piercing through me, and as it did, I heard the voice, the agonized scream fading into the distance to be lost forever. “Virial!

    I woke. The tears stained my face, but I didn’t cry. I never cried anymore.

    I open my mouth to speak, but my words caught in my throat. I swallowed. “Good morning, Ky…” I whispered.

    There was no reply. There never was.

    I looked at my clock. 5:29. I checked over my veil, making sure I was still lost, then picked up my lighter, staring into the little flame. It would twitch occasionally, but it was just my hand shaking.

    When it was time for work, I snapped the lighter shut and got up, moving slowly as I got myself ready. I packed my backpack, refilled my lighter, and left, the door unlocked behind me.

    No columns of smoke interrupted my walk this time, and I arrived at the sleezy bar early, for a change. I aimed my path towards the back door, but someone jogged up to me as I approached.

    “Hey, Vicky!” It was Jack.

    “What?” I asked, looking at his chin, not meeting his eyes.

    “There’s a guy been here, said you attacked him last night?”

    I looked up flatly. “Wow, that’s what he comes up with?” I shifted my stance. “He and his fat friend were hanging out out front when I left, and they followed me. I…I know how to fight, so I scared them off. But I didn’t do anything until they touched me first.”

    Jack nodded, but I could tell there was more that he hadn’t said yet.

    “What?”

    “Well, he’s saying you’re a witch,” Jack said. When I rolled my eyes he held out his hands placatingly. “Look, come on Vicky, I know you’re not! Probably. I mean, who the hell knows anymore, right?” He looked over his shoulder at the bar entrance. “But he had these bullets with him—”

    “Jeez, Jack, you let him bring a gun into the bar? I thought—”

    “Of course not, give me some credit here!” He scoffed. “But he brought in the bullets, right? And the powder, it was all turned to sawdust—”

    “Jack—”

    “I know, I know, coulda gotten there a bunch of different ways, I know it,” he agreed. “But he got a bunch of the other regs believin’ it too, ‘fore I kicked him out. And…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, Vick, I got respect for you, you know that,” he continued. “But I can’t have a witch as one of my girls, you know. And it don’t matter if you actually are or not, what matters is they think you are.”

    He sighed. “People get scared around witches. I’d lose business, like, a lot of it. And you know that don’t just hurt me, that hurts every single one of you girls.” He looked away, unable to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, Vick, I gotta let you go.”

    I nodded. I didn’t really want to look at him either, so we avoided each other’s eyes.

    “Look,” he said. “Come by next Sunday, I’ll make sure you get paid for this week,” he said gently. “I’ll even pay you five hundred for fixin’ the computer yesterday. But…” he raised his arms, then dropped them to his side. “This is what I got. I’m sorry.”

    I nodded without saying anything, and then turned around and headed back out into the night.
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-11-06 at 01:47 AM.

  8. - Top - End - #8
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    "Fallen; Part II"
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    With no job to distract me any longer, I started walking, staring at my feet, not noticing where I was going. Cars whispered by me on the streets, the misting rain starting and stopping fitfully. I tried to stay in the darkness, turning and crossing the street when I saw bright lights gathering up ahead. There were few people out, and those that were walked by me with rarely a second glance. Those that gave them offered lewd remarks as well, which I ignored.

    I didn’t have a watch or a phone, so I didn’t know what time it was when I finally came to a stop. I don’t know why I stopped; a twinge of something half-forgotten deep within roused me from my dark reveries. I looked around—the smell alone, part physical, part ephemeral, told me I was downtown somewhere. On my right, empty businesses, their signs missing or vandalized, crowded for space on the narrow streets. On my left, and old, stone building towered, a series of stone steps leading up to its arched double doors. A church. An old one at that.

    Human religion was not the same any longer, but each one had been impacted differently. Some had ended abruptly, not able to reconcile the world’s new reality with their teachings. Other more flexible faiths had adapted, finding interpretations of events through their lens, but every single one was strained. Catholicism had been hurt very badly by the destruction of Vatican City and the death of the Pope and most of the College of Cardinals, so at first I assumed this was like so many other buildings in this city, unoccupied and left to rot. But a faint light emanated from the doors and through the stained glass. Squatters, most likely.

    I waited for a car to pass by, then crossed the street, heading towards the door which was slightly ajar. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, a sudden chill crawled down my back, the shiver of goosebumps running across my skin.

    “What are you saying, Ky?” I asked, looking around.

    There was no reply. There never was.

    I continued, reaching the top of the stairs and pushing the door open so I could enter. Just beyond the entrance hall, the doors to the nave were open, candles flickering. I stepped inside, nudging the door back to its original position. As I moved to stand in the entry to the nave, I saw him: a priest, a long brass pole in his hand, moving slowly through the great hall, lighting the countless candles, his back to me.

    I stepped quietly inside, stopping to dip my fingers in the holy water and cross myself as soon as I remembered. Clearly I’m not Catholic, and never have been, but it would have been rude to not do it. I moved down the aisle, stopping once I’d reached the seventh row of pews. I set my backpack on the floor quietly, and slid onto the long bench in the center, watching the priest and looking around at the exotic decoration that surrounded me.

    “Rough night?”

    I jumped slightly as the priest spoke; I hadn’t realized he’d heard me come in. I thought about his question. “Most of them are.”

    “True, true,” he acknowledged, finishing the row of candles he was working on. “There now, I think I can take a little break.” He slowly lowered the rod, blowing out the flame on the end. Leaning the pole against the wall, he slowly wandered over, coming to sit in the pew in front of me. He looked to be pushing fifty, peppered hair just beginning to show scruff, warm, brown eyes looking at me from a kind face. “No electricity,” he explained, pointing to the candles. “The whole block. Three years and they’re still putting this city back together.”

    I said nothing.

    “So,” he said after a moment of silence. “What brings you in tonight? Something make this night rougher than usual?”

    I shook my head. “No, there was light, and I wanted to make sure…it’s such a lovely building, I didn’t want anyone…” I stopped. “I lost my job,” I said finally.

    He nodded, looking at his hands and dusting them slightly.

    I puffed out a breath. “Which is stupid, because I hated that job, and I’ve been looking for an excuse to move on for months now.”

    “What were you doing?” He prodded. I knew what he was trying to do; now that I was talking, he was hoping to keep me going.

    “Stripping,” I said flatly, shaking my head.

    “Ah,” he said, nodding some more. “I can understand why that might not be the most enjoyable career path in the world.” He paused, considering. “So, where do you think you’ll go, if you move on?”

    I shrugged. “Probably go a couple cities over, find another place and do the same thing.”

    He glanced at me, arching a brow. “Was it the job you hated, or the people you worked with?”

    “The job,” I said, leaving it at that.

    “So…” he hesitated, considering his words. “If it’s the job you hate, why go do the same thing somewhere else?”

    I looked down, and didn’t offer an answer. It was too complicated, even for an ‘It’s complicated.’

    “You know, you haven’t asked the question yet,” he smiled.

    “You were expecting me to ask if talking to a stripper makes you uncomfortable,” I pointed out. “But you’re a priest. Your job is to help the lowly and the outcast, not to judge them. Why would you feel uncomfortable?”

    He nodded along with my words. “Exactly!” He looked at me again, his eyes twinkling. “Not many people understand that, they think that I’ll get offended if they tell me about the unsavory things that are a part of their life, not realizing that I’m here precisely because they need someone to tell.” He looked me over. “Are you Catholic?”

    “No,” I admitted, shaking my head.

    “Well, not many people are, these days,” he acknowledged. “You’re the first person we’ve had in all week. Haven’t had more than four or five for Mass in months.

    “So,” he continued, slapping his knees as he stood, pacing down the aisle a few steps. “Since stripping doesn’t seem to be your passion in life, what would you do if you could have any job in the world?”

    I felt my throat tighten. I knew the answer to that. But I could never say it. “I can’t do that. Not anymore.”

    “Why not? You seem like a bright young lady, if you don’t mind me saying so. What’s holding you back?”

    I averted my gaze, feeling tears beginning to gather in my eyes. “Something happened.”

    “What?”

    I met his eyes, staring hard.

    “Ah,” he said, understanding. “Did you lose someone?”

    After a long moment, I whispered, “Yes.”

    “More than one someone?”

    “Yes.” I sniffed, wiping my eye clear.

    He strolled closer, tapping his fingertips together. “Well, I don’t think there’s a person alive today who can’t appreciate that,” he said. “And I don’t think that whoever you lost would want to see you wasting your talent.” He tapped his fingers some more. “Can you tell me what you were doing? Before it all happened?”

    I shook my head. “You don’t want to hear my life story, Father. I’ve done things that would make a priest far more than just uncomfortable.”

    “I seriously doubt that!” He said, a small grin on his face.

    “I don’t.”

    He nodded, silent for a few moments. “Well, you got the look of a person who’s carrying around a heavy burden. Do you want to talk about it?” He gestured down the nave at the confessional booth.

    “I’m not Catholic,” I reminded him.

    “Not many people are, these days,” he repeated, smiling.

    “You can’t save my soul, Father,” I said in a tiny, cracking voice. “I don’t have a soul left to save.”

    “Oh, come on, that’s not true,” he consoled. “And even if it were, how could it hurt?” He wandered back, sitting down next to me. “You don’t have to do it, you know that. But to me, you look like someone who’s carrying around a lot of pain, and from the sound of it, a lot of guilt.

    “And, if you’ve lost as many people as you say, my guess is that you’ve not had a chance to talk about it with anyone.” He looked up at the great cross that hung above the altar, the figure of Christ hanging off of it. “You don’t have to believe. You don’t have to do anything, really. But in my experience, until you say the words, get them out there, clear the air, that pain and guilt is going to keep eating you up.”

    Saying the words made it real. “You’ll hate me…”

    “Try me,” he smiled.

    I closed the door to the confessional booth. It was small; as we get older and bigger, going into tight spaces in our second skin starts to make us uncomfortable. But I knelt down as I was supposed to, resting my elbows on the small shelf and clasping my hands. I heard the other door shut, and some shifting, then small door behind the screen slid slowly over.

    “Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” I intoned.

    “What is your name, my child?”

    I gave a small, breathy laugh. “That’s not how this goes,” I reminded him.

    “I know,” he replied, a smile in his voice.

    “Victoria,” I answered. “Victoria Bla…” I stopped, shaking my head. That wasn’t the name of the person whose sins we were discussing. That person had a different name, a name I had longed to say without feeling utter hatred for more than three years. “No,” I said, venom gathering in my voice. “My name is Virial.”

    “Virial? That’s an unusual name. Virial Black?”

    “Just Virial.”

    “Tell me your sins, Virial,” he replied, continuing the ritual.

    I paused, unsure. “Where to even begin,” I wondered aloud. There was so much.

    “Wherever you want to,” he said gently. “Start with whatever is weighing on you the most.”

    I paused considering, but then the words started to spill from my mouth. I had known all along the thing that had hurt me the most, and it was only for want of someone to listen that had kept it inside. “Ky,” I croaked, my eyes tearing.

    “Ky?”

    “I killed her,” I said. “I killed her. She was so great and sacrificed so much. For everyone. And now she’s gone. I can’t talk to her anymore!” The sobbing had started, wracking my body in between words. “She was always there for me. I didn’t always appreciate her, but she was always there, trying her best to help me, and now she’s gone!”

    I paused for a long moment, crying softly, words swirling through my mind, jostling to pour themselves out of my mouth first. “And it’s not just her. Everan; Falia; Amesperé; Kyesh’aa; a million more! I killed them all! They’re all gone and I’m so alone!”

    I was crying in earnest now, wracking sobs shaking my body. “I’m hollow inside! My Spark is gone and I’m hollow inside, I’m a husk! An blasted, empty, burnt-out shell! And all the people I want to have close to me are gone! I’m not supposed to be alone in my own head! I’m not…I’m…I’m not supposed to be alone in my own soul…”

    “You’re not,” he said, trying to console me. “No matter what you've done, no one is alone in their soul, God is always - "

    “No!” I seethed, anger and pain twisting my voice into something ugly, tears streaming down my face. “I betrayed God! He gave me a gift! Awesome…beautiful…and I used it for evil! And so He RIPPED it out of me!” I slammed my fists down, smashing the wood armrest to splinters. “I betrayed my people! I made them hated! I made them hunted! And they hate me! They hate me and they should, I killed so many people and I don’t even know if it was worth it! And if it wasn’t that means I’ve extinguished all of them, too!

    “I keep thinking: maybe. Maybe there could have been another way. Maybe she missed something, maybe, maybe, maybe. But I can’t know. She’s gone and I can’t know! I can’t go back and look again, try to see. Every day. Every single day I sit and I count all the reasons why I should keep going, and I count all the reasons why I should just lay down and die, and every day the reasons to stay gets shorter and shorter, and the reasons to go get longer, and longer.

    I KILLED THEM!” I roared, my real voice - a crackling, thunderous roar - bleeding through and rattling the booth. The door popped open as it shook and jumped, but I hardly noticed as blazing fury filled me. “I KILLED THEM ALL! And it doesn’t matter how many burning buildings I jump into, how many rapists I beat bloody, it doesn’t matter how many I SAVE, because it will NEVER be enough!”

    The burning anger faded, leaving behind only the bitter pain. I sobbed again, leaning my head against the dividing barrier. “I didn’t want to do it. I had no choice! Doesn’t it know that? The DIVINE had to know it? Right? It was the only thing I could do to stop the great beast…It had to know it…” I drew in a haggard breath, my voiced strained with grief. “It had to know. Why did it take her from me? I deserve it all, all of it, but couldn’t it have just left me her? All I want is to hear her voice again, that’s all, that’s all I want…”

    “I…I don’t…what…?” The priest’s voice was panicked, confused, terror making his shake. “H-how many…?”

    My voice hardened. “Two billion, three-hundred-fifty-seven million, eight-hundred-thirty-three thousand, one-hundred seventy-one humans,” I counted. “One thousand, two hundred sixty-three Mauna, of whom six hundred forty-eight extinguished…” There is no way I could ever have counted them all, but the numbers were seared into the tattered dregs that were what remained of my soul, and every single person was an anchor dragging me down.

    “Seven-hundred-eighty-five thousand, two hundred and six spirits…

    “Twenty-seven trillion, eight-hundred-thirty billion, six-hundred-ninety-one million, seventeen thousand, four hundred and seven animals...

    “Eighty-three trillion, nine-hundred-two billion, two-hundred-twenty-four million, six-hundred-nine thousand, three hundred and twelve plants…

    “And thirteen thousand, seven hundred eighty-three fey.” I paused. I was beyond crying now, my face hard, although the tears still streamed down my face.

    “D-Dear God!” My confessor whispered. “When…?” The word escaped him as barely a breath. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from me.

    “Three years, two months, and eighteen days ago.” I met his eyes through the grate, and I knew what he would see there. You can always tell a naraka from the eyes, if you know what to look for.

    I didn’t move from my place as he fled the booth. I didn’t move as I heard his voice screaming at someone on a phone, nor did I hear what words he said. I had gone back to that day, that nightmarish day, when the world was changed.



    I had arrived at the tower, the ancient place constructed in homage to the seven great Watchtowers that stood far away in another dimension at the edge of our universe. The pieces of my working had not gone unnoticed by my brothers and sisters, and I confirmed to them that foul forces were conspiring to disrupt the very fabric of our world. They prepared for battle, willing to fight, die, and possibly extinguish at my side to fend off the threat.

    Three hundred Mauna had gathered at the tower; I ascended to the highest room, and when my brothers and sisters were prepared, I opened the doors to what I told them was the place we needed to go. Abraxas, his trust in me absolute, led the charge, diving into the shimmering stone without hesitation, followed by all the rest. Save for four.

    At the tower that day were three hatchlings, one barely a month past the re-ignition of his Spark. The battle would be dangerous, and Dallan, stuffy but noble Dallan, was adamant that he stay and watch over the hatchlings. As soon as the rest of our brothers and sisters had disappeared, I turned, bringing down the full force of my power on tower warden. He was old and skilled, but I was much larger and stronger, and he could not withstand me. Then, I turned on the hatchlings, and in two swipes all three lay dead. I had cried as I did it; I had never wanted to harm them, but for what I was to do next I needed absolute concentration. Had any of them attempted to stop me, they would have ruined everything I had worked for.

    The tower doors were one-way—though they could be aimed to send someone to near anywhere on the planet, once through they could not return. I had sent my brothers and sisters as far from me and my rifts as I could, so that they couldn’t interfere. Then, using powerful Craft I had studied over the past eighteen years, I had flung the doors wide open, turning them into true portals.

    Throughout the years, my Spark had aspected to several elements. When I first hatched, my intense Passions had aspected it to fire; later, as I learned, it aspected to Air, and then to Water. But it had also aspected to the ephemeral fifth element, Spirit, and that was key. The Sickness, Kyrala had learned, had been created by wrapping the byzantine laws of the fey through the physical world. Those laws had been, incrementally, step by step, encoded into the fabric of what it was to be Man. So the answer must come from the spirit world, the feyland’s natural opposite energy. If the contracts and bindings that entwined the Sickness with the essence of Man could be nullified, the Sickness could no longer exist.

    Kyrala and my other pasts had found it, piecing it together tiny bit by tiny bit, the different laws that had gone into the Sicknesses’ creation, and determining what might unbind those laws. And the answer was simple: the Sickness was a disease of the spirit, carried by Man but effective only against us. To unbind it, a new, opposite Sickness must be created, two metaphysical viruses, matter and anti-matter, to war with each other and annihilate one another. As the Sickness was born of fey, the Cure must be born of spirit. As the Sickness was carried by Man, the Cure must be created by Mauna. But the Cure couldn’t be created on a small scale. It had to be manufactured on a large scale, or the Sickness would overwhelm it, destroying it without injury, and become impervious to any future attempts.

    That was my task—create the Cure, and do it on a large enough scale that it could destroy the Sickness without being destroyed itself.

    As I opened the doors, I reached deep within my soul, opening the flood gates and drawing the full power of my Spark. My eyes burned diamond-white, and streams of silver light washed over me. I could feel all of my past lives focusing, lining up behind me to grant me channel the force that was our being without interruption. I roared, the sound ringing like ten thousand blazing clarions blasting in unison, each of my pasts lending their voice to mine.

    And as I roared, I did it. I unleash workings I had been assembling, piece by piece, for a decade or more, and filled them with a rush of divine power. And that power spilled through each door, each portal, to the places where Kyrala and I had prepared the way. Rifts in the Veil between the physical realm and the spirit world erupted to life. These doorways led to the deepest jungles of the spirit wilds, and I called down into them, the battling essences of life and disease drawing out spirits that hungered for those energies, and empowering them with strength they could never know without me.

    Spirits, hundreds, thousands, millions, poured out of the rifts. I couldn’t control which ones came, only entice them through. Most were spirits of life and spirits or disease, but some were others shades, creatures from so deep that they were never meant to enter the physical realm. And these spirits were not the invisible, faint things that normally burrowed into our world, but fully manifested, seething and boiling with the power I had infused them with.

    From deep under the ocean near the coast of Greece; from abandoned tunnels in Manhattan and the sky in Los Angeles; in each Beijing, Shanghai, and Hong Kong, and nearly three dozen other places around the world, the spirits flooded like a howling wave. And the screaming started.

    The spirits of disease brought with them the greatest plagues, black death, small pox, cholera, and dozens of others that had no name and were never meant to, afflictions of the body, mind and spirit. Waves of sickness spread out like shockwaves from the epicenters, infecting, killing, and infecting again, people, plants, animals…nothing was spared.

    But it was the spirits of life that were truly horrifying. As they rampaged, those in their path were warped in hideous ways. Some had their lives empowered, their physical energy burning a million times as bright, but for only a millionth as long, aging to death in seconds. In others, the Life enhance not the host, but the diseases already spread, causing them to grow and spread and mutate. Others had their bodies contorted in horrific manners, growing new limbs or organs, some exploding as their viscera strained and flailed, trying to push out of them after being given a mind of their own.

    The plants and animals were no less affected. Plants of all sorts sprouted and died and sprouted anew, warping into hideous mockeries and entire new species, while fauna began to mutate, going wild and feral and rabid.

    As I stood in my tower, watching through my tears and listening to the screams, I could feel the balance of the world shift. The spirit world was becoming dominant, overpowering the influence of the fey. And as it did, the interplay between life and death began to change. I felt it when it first happened: the first human died in an explosion of gore, but a wave of spiritual energy emerged, pure and clean despite its foul origin, perfectly balancing the two forces I had unleashed.

    Then another. Then another dozen. As I blazed, a hundred thousand died to give birth to the Cure, but I felt it gathering, growing, pushing against some invisible force that I couldn’t feel but knew was there. It was working. Despite all the horror and death and agony, it was working!

    And that’s when it happened. It was a sensation I would never forget, that had haunted me in my dreams every night since. In an instant that stretched for infinity, my Spark was torn violently away, ripped from me in a torment that I could not possibly describe. That was the last time I heard her voice, screaming my name in pain and terror as she was scoured from me forever.



    Saying the words makes it real. And when it’s real, you have to do something about it. Face the consequences. As I knelt there in the ruined confessional booth, I grasped the working that I had woven around myself and unmade it, letting the pieces fall apart. The faint tingle on my skin stopped, and I was exposed, no longer lost. The hunter would be here very soon.

    Slowly, I stood up and left the booth through the open door. I walked back up the aisle. I would go outside. It really was a lovely building, no sense in it getting destroyed…

    I stopped for a moment at my bag, stooping to pick up my lighter. Then I continued. Through the wide open doors to the church, I could see blue and red lights whirling. Someone with a megaphone was shouting. The priest had called the police. What a response time. Although I wasn’t sure how long I’d been lost in reflection, so maybe not.

    I walked out of the church, blinking in the swirling lights, and slowly descended the steps. There were guns pointed at me; reflexively, I pulled together a working, readying it, but I forced myself to let it go. It would be better that way. But no, in my heart I knew this was only going to go one way.

    As I reached the bottom step, a trumpeting bellow sounded from atop the churches spires, an immense, powerful blast the shook the ground. And as it did, the concrete and asphalt cracked and warped, giant slabs pushing backwards and away from where I stood in a ragged half-circle, forcibly creating extra space between the officers with their cars and me.

    VIRIAL!” Leaping from the rooftop, the lithe, strong figure plummeted to the ground, landing with a deafening crack, splintering the pavement at its point of impact. The bronze scales flashed in the light from the police cars, and he lashed his great horns from side to side, snarls rumbling in his throat and he stared me down.

    You will not harm any of these men, Virial! I shall not allow it!” He shouted. His stomped a foot, sending more splintering waves of power through the already devastated concrete beneath him. “You have been the cause of enough death!

    “Hi, Brax,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.

    YOU MAY NO LONGER CALL ME BY THAT NAME!” He thundered, his voice burning with rage. “That name was given to me by a friend, and that friend is no more!” He paced back and forth, tossing his horns and growling in challenge, his eyes focused, waiting.

    I knew what he wanted. He wanted a battle, a furious, desperate clash of fangs and claws, of fire and stone. Though I could no longer feel his mind in my own, I knew him. He wanted the battle, to be pushed to the brink, his Spark versus my size and strength, because it would mean that I had truly become the thing he saw me as. It would mean the person he loved was truly gone, and he could kill me without doubt or hesitation.

    I wanted to give it to him, for a moment I even reached into my tattered soul for the effort which would reveal my true form. I wanted to give it to him to spare him the pain of doubt, of guilt, of questioning himself for years to come. But I couldn’t. I could never hurt him, and if we fought, he would know my heart was not in it, that it was merely a show.

    I looked at the piece of smooth silver metal in my hand, and slowly I flipped open the top, sparking up the tiny flame.

    Brax tensed as I did, his eyes searching. “You know you cannot defeat me through Craft, Virial!” he warned.

    But I simply sat down, sitting back on my heels, placing the lighter with its tiny flame on the ground in front of me. I stared at the flame, gathering my Passions as I’d been taught years ago, trying to push them past myself, to make the fire move, even the tiniest bit. If I could just do it, just a tiny flicker, maybe there was a chance I might see her again. The flame danced, but it was just a chill wind, winding its way down the street.

    COME ON!” Fury and anguish strained his voice, the hint of tears threatening to overwhelm him. I heard him stomp again, and a wave of splintering concrete rushed towards me, throwing up a massive shard of rugged grey stone. My lighter tumbled away and the shard thrust forward into my face, stopping only after it had grazed my nose.

    He bellowed again, and the spike of stone shattered into dust.

    Brax stalked forward, his talons leaving furrows in the pavement, carefully, cautiously drawing nearer. He stopped in front of me, his breath hot on my face, a rumbling growl reverberating through his entire body.

    I didn’t look up to meet his eyes. I couldn’t face him myself, and I didn’t want to cause him any more pain.

    “Good bye, Ky…” I whispered.

    There was no reply. There ne


    I have a short postlude for this one, if you'd like it. But I felt it better to give this to you without it first. Let me know...
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-11-06 at 01:46 AM.

  9. - Top - End - #9
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Oh, ouch. That's heavy.

    The flashback in Fallen II is weighed down by the fact that fey/spirit are introduced and paid off in the same scene, and that so much of Kyrala's plan needs to be explained at the moment of execution, but again, that's just the struggle of a story only partly told. I do worry a little about how much setup will be required for the spirit and fey elements.

    I feel like turning the bullets to sawdust is one of those things that works on a first read but will be viewed more skeptically in retrospect--a "wait, why didn't she just jam the gun?" hesitation. But on a third level, it can be read as the beginning of Vi's decision not to hide anymore. No surprise considering what she did to the first guy.

    The scene with the woman from the burning apartment feels like a slight mismatch. A scene is made, but with little reaction from the environment (for lack of a better word). Vi not reacting makes sense, but no ongoing interest in the event from Tracey, Angelique, or the patrons is a surprise.

    I wonder if the priest has thoughts about having killed someone (before, of course, learning that it's more like having killed everyone).

    Last thought: the scene with Jack gets a little off near the end. I guess I think Vi's reason for stripping is that she's running from something, and that's not too uncommon for Jack.

    The story is generally hitting strong emotional beats for me. Well, I guess the first thing I said was enough indication of that. Ky, the lighter, those through-lines really tie it together.

    I don't know if a postlude is needed, but that doesn't stop me wanting to read it.
    Last edited by Lethologica; 2016-09-13 at 05:01 PM.

  10. - Top - End - #10
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Hey, look at that! I was just coming here to share the postlude and a lighter, fun little thing I typed out today!

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    Oh, ouch. That's heavy.

    The flashback in Fallen II is weighed down by the fact that fey/spirit are introduced and paid off in the same scene, and that so much of Kyrala's plan needs to be explained at the moment of execution, but again, that's just the struggle of a story only partly told. I do worry a little about how much setup will be required for the spirit and fey elements.
    Yeah, I kinda suspected. The whole "Reckoning" scene (the Mauna call that event "the Reckoning") is not my favorite. You are right that if I were to eventually try and make this more like a novel or series I'd need to take more time to explain everything. But since I'm trying to keep each of these little excerpts below ten pages, there really wasn't much I could do about it right then. Sorry about that .

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    I feel like turning the bullets to sawdust is one of those things that works on a first read but will be viewed more skeptically in retrospect--a "wait, why didn't she just jam the gun?" hesitation. But on a third level, it can be read as the beginning of Vi's decision not to hide anymore. No surprise considering what she did to the first guy.
    Technically, she only turned the gunpowder into sawdust, not the bullets themselves! She was trying to be subtle, while not destroying the person's property. In the post-disaster world, everyone needs protection. She has plenty, but most other people aren't dragons...Also, she was contemplating not even casting her spell at all and just letting him shoot her. I guess that part was a bit too subtle, though.

    There were a couple really subtle things like that, like the shiver she gets before she enters the church is just below the bottom step - which is the place where she's sitting when Brax...

    I'm actually not sure why she got that shiver then, and I don't really think that there needs to be a reason .

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    The scene with the woman from the burning apartment feels like a slight mismatch. A scene is made, but with little reaction from the environment (for lack of a better word). Vi not reacting makes sense, but no ongoing interest in the event from Tracey, Angelique, or the patrons is a surprise.
    Well, Angelique still thinks that Vi set the fire and that she went in to save people out of guilt, while Tracey (correctly) knows that Vi didn't start the fire. I really wanted to show that even though Vi has given up hope for herself and that she (probably rightly) feels damned, she hasn't given up her job of saving people, no matter how little she thinks it actually helps her. I tried to keep it as concise as I could so as not to take up too much narrative space but still have two things that she could reference in her confession later. But maybe I'll go back and expand a little more on that part...

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    I wonder if the priest has thoughts about having killed someone (before, of course, learning that it's more like having killed everyone).
    I'm sure he probably did. Although he was also probably thinking that she felt guilty for not saving someone during the disaster and had talked herself into equating that with killing the person. Except, of course, she did actually kill, well, everyone.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    Last thought: the scene with Jack gets a little off near the end. I guess I think Vi's reason for stripping is that she's running from something, and that's not too uncommon for Jack.

    The story is generally hitting strong emotional beats for me. Well, I guess the first thing I said was enough indication of that. Ky, the lighter, those through-lines really tie it together.

    I don't know if a postlude is needed, but that doesn't stop me wanting to read it.
    Huh, I suppose that's a pretty good point, and one that I missed. I try to do a little bit of research on things before I put them in writing, but I really didn't want to research the most common reasons people become strippers, so I went with my gut. Guess my gut missed a couple of things...

    I'm glad you liked the lighter. Mauna may be part divine, but they are also still part mortal creature, which means they suffer the pangs of their own psychology. And one of those is that, as Vi mentioned, they are not psychologically programmed to be alone in their own heads. Vi is literally going crazy from a loneliness that no one can possibly save her from in Fallen, and has been feeling more and more suicidal for months. I wanted the repetition of talking to Ky and the lighter to try and show that. I was trying to stay out of her head as much as possible, focus on physical action, until the very end when she bares (what's left of) her soul.

    I'm glad you're enjoying it, despite the many flaws! Here's the postlude - I'm iffy on this, too. It definitely changes the tone once you combine it with Fallen, but I'm going to share it, anyway. I have not yet decided if it's technically canon, so if you decide you want the story to end with Fallen, then it does! As always, let me know!

    "Postlude"
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    Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to drift back to consciousness, rousing myself from a deep, dreamless sleep. My eyes were closed, and I was floating, weightless.

    My body was…did I have a body? As I floated there, wondering, I became certain: yes, I had a body, my long, sinuous form coiled tightly in sleep. That made sense. It felt like I’d been asleep a long time…

    I couldn’t tell what I was resting on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, so I lay there for a while, conscious but drifting. Where was I? Was it hot or was it cold? It was comfortably warm, I decided, cozy without being stifling, and as soon as I had decided it I was sure that I was right.

    I don’t know how long I lay there, focusing on my breathing and not much else, hovering on the edge of sleep, but eventually I realized I would have to get up and look around, figure out where I was and what to do next. I opened my eyes, lifting my head to take in my surroundings. Thick, opalescent mists swirled slowly around me in every direction, thought and feeling hanging poignant in every lazy tendril.

    Odd. It looked and felt like the Astral Realm…I stood carefully and stretched, forcing the slumber from my muscles. My tail twitched, the sparkling, sapphire-blue scales glinting in the dim light.

    Wait, blue? I looked myself over frantically, my arms, my back, my tail. I was blue. Why was I blue, shouldn’t I be…

    “Hello, Vi.”

    Questions about my coloring fled my mind immediately, and I whipped around towards the source of the voice. She looked exactly the same as she always did, ever since that day long ago, wearing her second skin. Her long, fiery hair rippled in an unfelt breeze, her diamond eyes shimmering, a small smile on her face.

    I froze, my throat clenching, tears welling immediately in my eyes. I wanted to rush to her, to wind around her, to feel her touch, but I didn’t move. I stopped, gripped by the terror that a single twitch might make this vision fade and she’d be gone again.

    She walked towards me, taking her time, her eyes not leaving mine. Small tears had gathered in hers, as well. As she approached, I lowered my head to her level until she stood just in front of me, inches from my nose.

    She smiled wider. “It’s always nice to speak with you,” she beamed, reaching out to place her hand on my nose. Her hand felt real and warm, just like I remembered.

    “Ky…” I breathed. A dam of emotion broke inside me, and I collapsed to the unseen ground, shuttering sobs wracking me. “I’m so sorry!” I cried. “I’m sorry for everything I did! I missed you so much, I’m so sorry…”

    “No, no!” She said softly, draping herself across my snout, and hugging me gently. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you, after. I know it was so hard.” We stayed like that for a time, until my sobs died down.

    “I heard you,” she told me. “I heard you and I answered you every single time. I’m so sorry you could not hear me in return.” She stood, hopping onto my snout. Walking lightly and delicately, she tip-toed her way up my face, jumping onto my head and lying down between my horns, pressing her cheek against my forehead.

    I sighed, reveling in her presence for a moment. Then I lifted my head with her on top, looking around me again. “The afterlife looks a lot like the Astral Realm,” I commented. “And why am I blue again? Shouldn’t I be—”

    “What? Black?” She laughed, a beautiful tinkling sound. “Why would you be?”

    “I’m naraka,” I admitted to her. “I lost my Spark I…I felt it be ripped away. I lost you…”

    “Mmm,” she acknowledged. She turned around, laying on her back. As always, despite the difference in our sizes, our heartbeats were perfectly in sync. “When someone becomes naraka, their Spark disappears from the world,” she said. “But a new one doesn’t appear until they’ve died and moved on. Why do you think that is?”

    “It’s because the number of dragons in the world has to remain constant, right?” I asked. “Three thousand thirty-nine, no more no less.”

    “Sort of,” she agreed. “But it’s not the number of bodies that is the constant, it’s the number of Sparks. So why not have a new one appear instantly?”

    I shook my head lightly, unsure.

    She flipped over again, inching forward to look in my eye. “It’s because the Spark that was lost has not left the world entirely. Not yet.” She smiled. “It is held in trust, waiting. If the one who lost it shows themselves to be worthy again, when they pass it is offered back, should they want it.”

    I furrowed my brow. That didn’t make sense. “But, wait…” I said. “If that was true, why didn’t we know this before? Over hundreds of millions of years, there has to have been thousands of naraka. Why hasn’t this happened before now?”

    “Because out of all those naraka, all have fallen into two categories. Most were those who, because of greed, or pride, or lust for power, betrayed our purpose for their own selfish betterment. And when the logical consequence of that occurred, they would turn themselves away, justifying their actions or casting the blame onto others. Such creatures would not be offered back their Spark.

    “The rest,” she continued, “Were those who grew tired of the continuous struggle and wished to pass on to their rightly earned reward, choosing to set aside their mantle and…retire, I suppose you might say. Those souls would be offered their Sparks back without question, but since they had already chosen to set it aside, why then take it right up again?”

    I considered what she way saying, nodding slowly.

    “However, that’s not to say that it has never happened in our entire history. It has happened at least once before. To our own soul, in fact.”

    “Kyesh’aa,” I gasped, realization dawning. “When the great beast first came here. But why…?”

    Ky nodded, confirming my suspicion. “Yes. Kyesh’aa chose to allow the world to risk utter destruction instead of choosing a path that might spare it suffering. That it was the only choice that might ultimately lead to our Jewel’s survival and the preservation of its history does not negate the fact that she allowed death and devastation to flourish.”

    “That’s why she’s always so…you know, somber,” I said. “But if she became naraka after that, why didn’t you tell me it was possible before now? It would have made it so much easier on me to know for sure that there was still a chance.”

    “Because we did not know,” Ky admitted, sitting up. She leaned up against one of my horns, sighing. “Kyesh’aa felt the pain of the removal of her Spark just as you did, I’m sure of it now. But weakened as she already was after the battle with the great beast, its impact against the world killed her immediately. I suspect she knew, somewhere in her heart, but she never had time to acknowledge it, nor did any of those who had come before her. It wasn't until it happened again that she remembered."

    As she spoke, eyes began to gleam from the swirling Astral fog, appearing around us from every direction. I glanced around. Though their faces were partially obscured by the mists, I recognized many of them as past lives my soul had led. “Ky, what…?”

    “Ah, it looks like it’s time.” She shifted, moving to slide down my neck and back onto the ground. “We have something to show you!”

    The eyes began to move off, all of the forms of my pasts turning towards something to my right. Ky waited, watching as the others had gotten a head start before leading me after them. Our destination was not far—after only perhaps a minute, the fog began to thin. We came upon a clearing in the mists, and in the center shone a massive orb of light. It rang slightly, a perfect, pure tone, and the color was something I couldn’t define. I had seen every color in the visible spectrum, I had seen ultraviolet and infrared and dozens of others, but this was something beyond. I wanted to call it white, but it wasn’t white like I normally considered it. It was all colors at once, but somehow they both merged and remained separate, harmonizing together in a cosmic dance that left my jaw hanging open in awe.

    The large, graceful shapes of my pasts were there, entering into the orb, becoming one with the light. Some of them stopped to look back at me before they did, other simply slipped through without pausing.

    I looked on in amazement, watching with mesmerized fascination. “Is…is that…?”

    “Yes,” Ky nodded, smiling broadly. “Our Spark, our core, our soul.” She looked up at me. “At least, so far you can comprehend it right now.”

    As the last of the waiting Mauna passed into the light, I started forward again, eager to see what mysteries lay beyond.

    “Not quite yet,” Ky said, holding up a hand. “You’ve got some work to do first!”

    She pointed at something behind me and I turned, looking. The fog had shifted, shapes and images appearing, like reflections in a clear pool. I looked at Ky again, then slowly moved forward. Ky followed for a time, walking alongside me, but eventually she stopped; somehow, I knew she couldn’t come any further. I took a few more cautious steps, and the images crystallized. A young girl, hardly more than eighteen, stumbled as she tried to get out of bed, a hand going to her forehead as she fought to shake the surge of dizziness that had overwhelmed her. A handsome young man—her boyfriend, I was sure—rushed to catch her before she toppled to the floor, speaking soft words of comfort as he led her back to the bed to sit down.

    “You were asleep for a long time,” Ky told me, a smile in her voice. “Longer than most. You definitely deserved the rest, but I think mostly you were waiting for her.”

    I looked, noticing the details of her appearance with familiarity. “Her granddaughter?” I asked. “We’re her granddaughter?” I shook my head, laughing. “Wow, she is going to flip out!” I considered again, then made a face. “Dang, I’m dating guys. She’s never gonna let that drop!”

    I watched a little more, remembering, a small smile playing on my face. But then a thought occurred to me and I stopped, turning back and away from the visions. “I can’t…”

    “What do you mean you can’t?” Ky laughed.

    “They’ll hate her,” I said quietly. “They’ll hate her because of me. Because of what I did.” I shook my head. “She’s better off without me.”

    “She needs you,” Ky insisted. “Just as you needed me.”

    “I seem to recall I went out of my way to do the exact opposite of whatever you told me to do,” I reminded her.

    “Yes,” she laughed. “You did! Let’s hope she’s not quite as stubborn as you were.” Her face turned serious, looking past me at the images of our new life. “She does need you, trust me. And yes, our brothers and sisters may not understand, may treat her with mistrust. But they will see that she’s just as smart and dedicated and kind as you were. And eventually, as our people begin to flourish once again, and mankind awakens to the greater beauty of our Jewel after the haze it labored under all its previous history…they will come to understand.”

    She smiled. “Our people still speak of Kyesh’aa’s Choice, do they not? Perhaps eventually, maybe even before she has reached her first millennia, they will begin to speak of Virial’s Choice.”

    I looked at her, cautious hope in my eyes. “So…it worked? The Sickness is gone?”

    “Not gone, not entirely,” Ky admitted, shaking her head. “But it is greatly diminished, and it can never again threaten our existence. Our people will never be as great as we once were long ago, but we can begin to rebuild. It was hard to see from our…position…as we waited for you, but in time, I think we’ll even be able to man all of the Watchtowers once again!”

    She looked at the images again, hazy from this distance. “It will take time, of course. Not even a lifetime has passed since you created the Cure, and it will take several before they notice the subtle changes. She’ll need your guidance to make it through!”

    I nodded, letting out a long breath as I steeled myself. With one last look at my guide, I started forward once again. As I did, she turned back, returning to our Spark. I would be joining her soon, but for now, I had a job to do.

    I watched as our newest life struggled through her Hatching, whispering advice and encouragement when I could. She was intuitive and sensitive, much more than I had been, and she trusted my words when they reached her, holding them close. Soon, confused and afraid, hiding in her second skin because she was too embarrassed of her true form, she found herself among our people, in an open room in that ancient tower, gentle sunlight streaming in from the arched windows.

    Emerging from the stairwell came two Mauna. One, long and rippling, was introduced as Lady Shuey-Lien, but our focus was fixed on the other, the warden of the tower. Age had begun to dull his scales, but his eyes were still warm and bright, and his voice rich and full, massive horns still rising proud from his head.

    “And this,” Shuey-Lien introduced, “is Lord—”

    “Brax,” the Hatchling breathed, her eyes searching.

    A look of surprise crossed his face. “Yes, little one,” he confirmed, nodding. “How did you know?”

    She shook her head. “You feel…familiar. Like I know you from a dream…”

    “She has a predecessor?” Shuey-Lien wondered. “Who could it be? I can think of no one who passed in the proper timeframe who we have not yet found again…”

    A curious expression crossed Brax’s face. “And yet here she is…I recall a similar mystery some years ago…” Looking at the Hatchling again, he asked in a gentle voice, “Have you heard the voice of the one who came before you?”

    She nodded. “Y-yes. I mean, I think. I hear her in my dreams, mostly, though sometimes when I’m awake. It’s like…memories. Memories from before I was born.”

    “Spirit aspected, too?” Shuey-Lien remarked, surprised. “Curiouser and curiouser. I had thought Spirit aspectation upon Hatching was a thing of the past.”

    “Many curious things have occurred in recent years. Do you know her name?” Brax asked.

    ”Virial,” I whispered, sending the name like a gentle wind.

    “I…I think…Virial?”

    In an instant, tears began to gather in Brax’s eyes, and he took in a breath. “Lady Vi…” he whispered. He turned away, stalking off a few steps before sitting down, lost in thought.

    “I’m sorry!” The Hatchling said, “I don’t…what is it? What did I do?”

    “One moment, little one,” Shuey-Lien smiled, before turning to speak with Brax. But the new Mauna was clever, listening in as they spoke furtively. “Virial?” The Water dragon asked in disbelief. “Truly? Come, Lord Abraxas, this sentimentality doesn't suit you! She must have heard the name from one of our brothers or sisters on her way here. That...beast...was naraka! You slew her yourself, and good riddance! You saw the darkness in her eyes!”

    Brax didn't answer for some time. Eventually, he tossed his horns lightly, like he did when he was thinking. “I see some resemblance in you to a human I once knew, little one,” Brax commented. “Tell me, your…grandmothers, most likely. What were their names?”

    “My gandmas?” She asked, startled by the question. “Umm…Lonna Stone was my dad’s mom. And grandma Tam is my mom’s. Tamara Jackson.”

    Brax stood and turned back, a small, tearful smile on his face. “Milady,” he acknowledged, bowing his head. “I do not know why,” he continued, emotion heavy in his voice. “And I do not know how. But I am so happy that you have returned to us, and I very glad to meet you again.” He rose from his bow, beaming down. “And if you will have me, it would be my honor to be your teacher once more.”

    Looking up at him, she shifted, her beautiful rust-red scales glinting in the light. “She says I could probably do much worse!”
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-09-14 at 04:36 PM.

  11. - Top - End - #11
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    This comes just shortly after Virial and Kyrala (maybe a month), and a couple years before Reunion.

    "Day Off"
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    “WOO HOO-HOO-HOO!” I crowed in exhilaration, the wind whipping past my face.

    The thin air was frigid, but I stoked my inner furnace to keep myself warm, ripples of heat lashing out with each breath I took. I wrapped my dissipating body warmth around myself as well for good measure—normally it would be difficult, but the sheer excitement that came from rocketing through the sky at over a hundred miles an hour made generating the necessary Passion easy.

    I was suspended nearly two miles above the rugged mountains sprawled out beneath me, riding a turbulent column of swirling wind at breakneck speeds. It had taken some time to learn to control my flight, and the intricate dance needed to keep myself aloft: when to twist and when to twirl, how to wind and how to weave, but it was SO worth it!

    I turned left, pulling alongside a fuzzy, low-hanging cloud and, with a deep breath, exhaled a hundred-foot-long blast of rippling orange-red fire. I held my blast as long as I could, strafing the cloud and watching it evaporate into sizzling steam. “WOOOOO!” I cried as I blasted past, my wake smearing what was left of the cloud across the sky.

    I laughed, tears in my eyes from the howling winds. I slowed, drifting lazily, turning upside-down to float on my back (for as long as I could manage at once), watching the sky above.

    It had been so long since I’d had a chance to unwind and just do something…fun. There was no TV or internet at the tower: Dallan, the tower warden, was nearly two hundred years old, and hadn’t quite caught up with modern times. He used a cell phone, something that always surprised me, but other forms of digital communication he considered to be frivolous and distracting. Dallan liked books.

    Two days ago, Brax had been called away to Switzerland to help track down a new Hatchling. I’d asked to go along, but Dallan had insisted I stay and work on learning Mandarin. But very soon after, Dallan himself grew distracted and distant; he’d told me he was worried about a student of his, someone named Esperiak. He had left this morning to Ahlmaltis, the only real Mauna city, built on the seafloor of the Mediterranean.

    And, well…it’s not that I don’t like learning Mandarin, but after learning Hindi, Cantonese, French, Latin, and Korean in between combat, Craft, and divine skill training…Come on, at some point, a girl’s just got to take a moment to blow off some steam. Or fire, in my case.

    And since the doors of the tower were uni-directional, both of them would probably be gone for nearly a week. I could afford to take one lazy afternoon, right? Besides, why spend all that effort learning to fly if I’m not ever going to fly for the fun of it? I mean, I can fly!

    Kicking it up a notch, I flipped over backwards then pointed my nose towards the heavens, gathering as much power beneath me as I could. For one, two, three tense moments I coiled myself up, body and mind, then I released, surging straight up, higher and higher and higher. I pushed as hard as I could, rocketing as high as I could possibly go. The air grew thin, and I wrapped myself in as much heat as I could, straining through the clouds.

    And then I was through! I emerged into the glittering sun, a sea of fluffy whiteness laid out beneath me, the ground below barely visible through the thin gaps in the drifting vapor. I was slowing, reaching the limits of my height, and as I did I corkscrewed, exhaling another withering blast of flame, creating a burning spiral through the sky.

    When I reached the top of my flight, I paused, hanging at the top of my arc for a moment, before plunging back down in free fall. As I fell, I studied the ground beneath me. I might very well be above Tibet by now; the tower itself was nestled in the smaller mountains in northern Nepal, where there was little human activity (and a touch of Craft diverted unwanted attention). But I had been heading generally north-west for a while, and the peaks beneath me looked particularly snowy and desolate.

    Suddenly, a new noise jerked me out of my reverie. The howl of jet engines pierced through the rushing wind from somewhere nearby, and I kicked myself back into gear, leveling off and looking around, calling up my flickering camouflage to prevent myself from being seen. My sharp eyes and keen ears quickly spotted it through the cloud cover above me—white belly and a sky-blue body, the twisting red and blue yin-yang symbol marking it as a Korean Air jet. I grinned an unseen grin. This was going to be fun!

    I reached into my Spark, calling up as much speed as I could possibly muster. I had to keep some of my concentration in reserve for keeping myself invisible, so I was going to need a lot of it. With each of my heartbeats, time seemed to stretch and dilate for thrilling instants, and I felt the force and power building around me, a charge hanging the air, waiting for me to unleash it. My shining power thrumming through me, I took in a breath then charged forward, faster than I ever thought possible.

    The sudden wave of speed surprised me—I had been hoping to catch the plane, but I’d never really thought I’d be able to do it! Don’t commercial airliners fly at nearly six hundred miles an hour? My blast of speed threw me directly into its wake, and I tumbled, out of control for a few moments. But I recovered, sparkling divine energy singing in every fiber of my being. It was a lot of effort, maintaining that speed and my camouflage at the same time, and I knew I couldn’t do it for more than a couple minutes. But that would be enough!

    I came up alongside the plane’s port, hovering a few feet over the wing. I glanced in through the windows at the passengers. While most of the shades were down, and those that weren’t showed bored men and women engrossed in their books or devices, just behind the wing a small boy pressed his face against the glass, looking with wonder at the world far below him.

    I glanced around, making sure no one else was looking out the window, then dropped my camouflage for just a moment, looking at him and smiling. His large, almond eyes grew wide in amazement and he smiled; even through the roaring wind and the howling engines, it was almost like I could hear his elated “Wow!”

    Smiling inwardly, I kicked myself upwards, rolling over to the top of the plane. This was really stupid, but I wanted to try it anyway. I matched its speed, hovering inches over the top of the barrel. Now that I didn’t need to maintain my camo, I could focus enough to aim my efforts, lashing out with my talons to grasp the metal lightly. When I felt I had a firm grip, I pulled myself down and stopped calling on my Spark’s energy, riding on the back of the plane without anything to support me but my own grip.

    I crowed, shouting my excitement to the world around me, but the wind ripped my words away before they could reach my ears. That was okay, though: not many people can say they’ve surfed on the back of a plane at thirty thousand feet! I chuckled a little; the airline would have a hard time explaining where the claw marks I made had come from, and with the little boy probably saying that he saw a dragon…

    I rode the plane for a few minutes, until the muscles in my arms and legs began to scream with the exertion, then tilted to the side and let go, tumbling again through its turbulent wake. “WOOOO!” I shouted again as I fell, my heart pumping a million miles an hour.

    I don’t think I could have asked for a more thrilling vacation!

    …Now I just needed to figure out how to get back to the tower…
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-11-06 at 01:46 AM.

  12. - Top - End - #12
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Well, I guess the lack of responses means interest has waned . I'm not really surprised, I suppose.

    I am working on four new scenes right now, I hope to have at least a couple of them posted before the end of the week. Working titles are:

    "Naming"
    "Talking it Out"
    "Histories and Mysteries"
    "The Brotherhood"

    As always, let me know what you think of my recent stuff if you have a minute,and let me know what you might like to see or know about in this universe!
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  13. - Top - End - #13
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    I like the broad strokes of Postlude. The scenes you chose are good and important and kind.

    To me, the explanation of Vi's resurrection is weighing down the emotional reunion somewhat--there's a lot of "Wait, if that's true, then why..." work being done to fit the twist into previous setting expectations. But this time it's not exactly something that can be told in other parts of the book, only at most hinted at. I wonder if Vi might encounter Kyesh'aa herself first, since it's Kyesh'aa who experienced what Vi did and might be well-suited to explain that. Then Kyrala enters the scene and the emotional hammer drops. But that approach has difficulties, too--like, it separates the emotional impact from the resurrection itself, and we don't know Kyesh'aa yet from what's been written so far--so I dunno.

    "Day Off" seems like a natural prelude to some kind of plot-relevant setback (meeting one or more villains prematurely, Vi finding and messing with something with something she shouldn't, something like that), because I'm a sucker for emotional whiplash, I guess. I like the kid.

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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    I like the broad strokes of Postlude. The scenes you chose are good and important and kind.

    To me, the explanation of Vi's resurrection is weighing down the emotional reunion somewhat--there's a lot of "Wait, if that's true, then why..." work being done to fit the twist into previous setting expectations. But this time it's not exactly something that can be told in other parts of the book, only at most hinted at. I wonder if Vi might encounter Kyesh'aa herself first, since it's Kyesh'aa who experienced what Vi did and might be well-suited to explain that. Then Kyrala enters the scene and the emotional hammer drops. But that approach has difficulties, too--like, it separates the emotional impact from the resurrection itself, and we don't know Kyesh'aa yet from what's been written so far--so I dunno.
    That was the big problem with that scene that I had - finding a way to balance the emotion of "Vi and Ky reunion!" with "Why the heck am I back?" and "Oh, BTWs, you gotta help our new hatchling!" I wasn't sure how well I succeeded.

    I did try and lay the...seeds, if you will, of this reveal in Reunion, where we see that even though Jor and Oros and all those folks are no longer fighting the good fight, the new Sparks to replace the ones they destroyed don't show up until after they die. The why remains unstated, because the Mauna believe they understand the reason, while the real reason has been hiding in the background for quite some time.

    Funnily enough, had Oros accepted Vi's offer to sacrifice himself in Reunion, there was a slight chance that his Spark could have returned! So Vi accidentally almost got her own proof just by being the good little dragon that she is.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    "Day Off" seems like a natural prelude to some kind of plot-relevant setback (meeting one or more villains prematurely, Vi finding and messing with something with something she shouldn't, something like that), because I'm a sucker for emotional whiplash, I guess. I like the kid.
    Well...Once again, I did sprinkle in something about a villain in there ! The reason that Dallan left the tower so suddenly was to visit an old student named Esperiak whom he had suddenly grown worried about - and we found out in Reunion that that was Oros's name before he became naraka and discarded it.

    But mostly, Day Off was an answer to my friend's question of, "What do dragons do for fun when they're not fighting or training or preparing?" So it wasn't really supposed to be much more than just a fun little ditty.

    EDIT: But once again, thank you so much for taking the time to read through my stuff. I appreciate it a lot !
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-09-19 at 01:29 PM.
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Okay, here's one more new scene that comes between "Hatching" and "Flying Lessons." This is a rough draft, so let me know what you think...

    "Talking it Through"
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    The insistent buzzing of my phone vibrating against the wooden nightstand dragged me out from the depths of sleep.

    I was huddled under the covers, not even my head emerging for air. It was too cold. I had piled every blanket I owned on top of myself, and the cumbersome weight was comforting, for a reason I wasn’t quite sure of. I twitched as my phone continued to buzz, kicking the footboard accidentally. I would never have thought a queen-size bed would be too small for me.

    After a few moments, the buzzing stopped. Then, after a brief silence, it started again. Whoever was on the other end of the line, they weren’t taking voicemail as an acceptable answer. Or maybe my voicemail was full; I had been getting a lot of calls recently, and I couldn’t remember ever actually emptying it…

    Groggily, I reached out from my warm nest under the blankets and grabbed the offending device, pulling it underneath with me. The annoying twitching in my upper lip started as soon as the phone was near my face. I half-opened a bleary eye to look at it. The screen was marred by three long slash marks, but the image it flashed was unmistakable: Tam was calling.

    For a moment, I debated not answering, but I knew her. She would just keep calling. Carefully using the pad of my finger so I didn’t add another slash to the screen, I typed in my passcode and tapped the green “Answer” button.

    “Hello?” The slur of sleep was still in my voice, but the churning crackle was readily apparent.

    “Christine.” Her tone was odd. Was she angry? Or concerned? Probably both, I realized. “Are you still asleep?”

    “I was.”

    “It’s four o’clock in the d—n afternoon,” she informed me, her voice hard. “And why the f—k does your voice sound like that?”

    “Uhh…” I dithered, still trying to clear the fog from my brain. My dreams had been very strange, as always. It was hardly like they were dreams at all…

    “Of course,” Tam muttered. “Why would you tell me anything? I’m only your best friend.”

    “No, no,” I protested. “It’s just…I dunno, it’s…” I paused, searching for a word to describe it. “Complicated,” I finished lamely.

    “Of course it is,” she said again, clearly unconvinced. “Did you go see a psychologist like you said you would? Or was that too ‘complicated,’ too?”

    I hadn’t. I had barely left my apartment since it had happened. I wasn’t even really sure what day it was, actually. I wanted to say I had, to deflect her suspicion, but I knew that wouldn’t work. I can’t lie convincingly to Tam. “No,” I admitted. I heard her open her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “But not for the reason you think. I…this isn’t something a shrink can help me with.”

    She was quiet a moment. “Drugs,” she said flatly. “You’re doing drugs, aren’t you?”

    “What? No!” I protested. Then I stopped. “At least, I don’t think I am. If I am on drugs you’ve really got to try ‘em, because holy s—t is this a trip…” For some reason, she didn’t find me as witty as I did. Not even a giggle. “Okay, seriously, Tam. No, I am not on drugs. I promise.”

    There was more silence. “I don’t know if I believe you, Christine. And…and I can’t deal with this anymore. It’s been four weeks. Almost five weeks. Something is wrong with you, and I am done trying to get you to tell me what it is.”

    “Wait! Tam!” I shouted into the phone as I heard her move to hang up. I flailed, trying to stand while still holding the phone to my ear, the end result of which was me crashing to the floor, tangled in my mass of blankets. “Ow.”

    There was a beat of silence, but the call was still connected. “What happened?”

    “Sorry, I fell out of bed,” I explained. “Tam wait, I…” I paused, trying to think things through.

    “We’re supposed to be friends, Christine,” she said, the sound of tears starting to creep into her voice. “We’re supposed to talk to each other. Help each other. But something’s happened to you, and you won’t talk to me about it, and I can’t help you unless you do. So…so if you won’t talk to me—”

    “No no, okay,” I interrupted. I didn’t know if I should do this, but it seemed like I couldn’t put if off any longer. “Alright, you’re right: something did happen to me. And I’m sorry I’ve been…distant. I want to talk.”

    “Okay, then talk.”

    Huh. Why hadn’t I expected that? “No, Tam, I can’t—”

    She scoffed on the other end of the line.

    “No, wait! I…there’s something I need to show you. It’s…related to what happened. Or it is what happened, I dunno. I can’t explain it over the phone, it won’t make any sense.” I sucked in a deep breath. Here we go… “Can you come over? I’ll show you what happened and explain everything. I promise.”

    There was an icy silence on the other end of the line. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. This better be good.” A series of beeps told me she’d hung up.

    Twenty minutes. Okay, fine, I could be ready in twenty minutes. I dropped my phone and then thrashed about, trying to free myself from the ensnaring tangle of sheets. At one point, I heard a loud ripping sound, and then I was free. “Dammit,” I muttered, extracting myself slowly. “Stupid claws…”

    I closed my eyes and focused. It took only three or four seconds this time, and then there was a snapping sound and I was standing there on two feet, looking down on the messy pile of covers, which had been sheared nearly in half during my struggle. I sighed, and bent down to pick them up. I fished out my phone (now sporting a fourth scratch and the beginnings of a fifth) and then dropped the bundle of blankets on my bed. I didn’t feel like sorting it out right now, and I doubted I had the time.

    My stomach growled at me. I was starving. Again. I sighed—I had been eating like crazy these past…what had Tam said? Five weeks? But I was always hungry. I tapped on my phone a bit, bringing up the internet and punching in an order for pizza delivery. I had a standard order by now: two larges with breadsticks and a giant cookie. It would usually tide me over for most of the day. Would Tam be hungry? I stopped and backed out of the confirmation screen, adding a third large pizza before continuing on and finalizing. Just in case.

    “Okay,” I said to myself. My voice sounded pretty much normal now, the crackling undertones gone. “Twenty minutes. I can do this.” I fidgeted nervously—what if she didn’t see it? What if all of it was just some sort of…hallucination? I didn’t quite know how I’d feel about that. One the one hand, it might be a relief; I was sick, I’d get the help I needed and continue on with my life as normal. But on the other hand…

    I looked at my arm, then pinched it slowly. My skin was still uncomfortable. But knowing I wasn’t trapped in it went a long way to making me feel more at ease. If it wasn’t real, then…what was I going to do? Go back to being an engineer? Somehow, that normal life I’d been planning for so long no longer felt like it was enough.

    I walked out into my living room, wobbling slightly as I did. Walking on two feet is trickier than most people realize. I would clean up a little before Tam got here, get my mind off of my worries. I stopped short as I emerged from the bedroom, staring around my tiny apartment as if I was seeing what it actually looked like for the first time. “Hoo boy,” I muttered shaking my head. I needed a lot more than just twenty minutes…

    My dishwasher was running and I had just managed to flatten and cram the twelfth pizza box into my tiny recycling bin when a sharp rapping sounded at my door. That was unlikely to be the delivery guy. I looked around at my apartment again. My little kitchen area was looking much better, but I hadn’t even gotten to the rest of it. This was not going to speak well for my mental state. I sucked in another deep breath, steadying my nerves. I crossed to the door, my hands shaking.

    I clicked the lock and undid the chain, then, closing my eyes and taking one last breath, I turned the knob to let in the daylight.

    Well, I’d been half right. Standing at my door were both Tam, an unfathomable look on her face, arms crossed in front of her chest, and a young kid about eighteen, holding a giant black oven bag. I smiled awkwardly. “Hi Tam.” I stood back, opening the door for her. “Come in. Let me sign for this and I’ll be right there.”

    She didn’t say anything. Her eyes drifted over my outfit, then she nodded, stepping past me into my dim apartment.

    “Sorry about that,” I said to the pizza guy.

    “No problem miss,” he assured me, handing me the receipt. I took the proffered pen and scribbled a signature, writing in a modest tip, then took possession of the steaming boxes of delicious-smelling goodness.

    After he left, I turned back to my door. Tam was standing in the way, her left arm held out, flicking the light switch up and down. “Your light’s not working,” she noted, staring at me pointedly. “Did your electricity get shut off?”

    “Huh? Oh, no,” I said, pushing carefully past her and aiming for the kitchen. “I just turned off the breakers. Everywhere but the wall I share with my neighbors and the kitchen. Besides, the light was too bright, I wasn’t using it much, anyway.” The main room was dark, lit only by the rosy-colored light that filtered in through my closed blinds. I was able to navigate it easily enough, though. It didn’t really seem all that dark to me. “Are you hungry? I ordered an extra pizza in case you were.”

    “Christine,” Tam said from the doorway, her voice still flat and direct. “It’s boiling in here. It’s got to be nearly a hundred. For God’s sake, why the hell are you wearing a parka?”

    I set the boxes on the freshly cleaned counter, then looked down at what I was wearing. My purple parka, zipped up tight over a long-sleeved sweater. I shrugged guiltily. “I was cold,” I admitted. “The heat doesn’t go any higher, so—”

    “Did you…did you take apart your vacuum?” She asked, incredulous, looking at a jumbled pile of machinery that sat in the middle of the floor.

    I shrugged again. “I needed to vacuum-seal something, and that was the only thing I had that could do it. I know how to put it back together, I just…haven’t. Yet.”

    She stood there in the doorway, bobbing her head lightly. I knew that motion: it meant she was really mad, but trying her best not to explode. “Three pizzas?”

    “One of them’s for you,” I reminded her. “I’ve been really hungry lately—” I shook my head as I said it, anticipating her next remark. “No, I don’t have the munchies. I’m just…famished. All the time. And even if I was smoking pot—which I’m not—you’re hardly one to judge, because I know you’ve done it before. Multiple times.”

    She waited a beat, then shut the door sharply behind her and stalked over to the counter, slapping down a piece of paper. “And what’s your excuse for this?”

    It was an official looking notice, on my apartment complex’s letterhead. “60 Days Pay or Quit,” it said, in big bold letters.

    “It was on your door when I got here,” she told me. Her voice had changed, subtle notes of worry and pain threading into her words. “Chrissy, did you even take your finals? Have you been going to work?”

    “Yes!” I insisted. “I took my finals. I don’t know how I did, the results don’t come out until June—”

    “It IS June!” Tam said desperately, throwing up her hands. “It’s been June for over a week! And what about work? Have you been going to work?”

    “No, not yet. I mean, my internship doesn’t start until…” I stopped. The internship was supposed to start the last day of May. But if it was already June… “D—n, I need to call them…” Noticing the look on her face, I bolted around the counter so I could stand in front of her. “Look, Tam, I know this all seems bad—”

    “Oh, you’re just now realizing that?”

    I held up my hands. “Fair enough, you’re right. But I need to show you what happened. It’ll explain…all of this! Why I’ve been so weird lately. I’ve been trying to figure it all out.”

    Tam looked at me in the eyes, then reached down to pick something up that was draped across the back of one of my two bar stools. She looked at it, then held it up for me to view. It was a piece of thin, glittery fabric. A tattered shred of one of my favorite blouses. “You’re still ripping up clothes, I see.” She gestured out across the living room. There were scraps of clothes scattered haphazardly all over.

    “No no, that was an accident,” I protested. “I don’t rip them on purpose. It’s just hard to do it with clothes on.” It took me a beat before I realized what I’d said. “No! Wait, that didn’t come out…I mean, I didn’t mean…look, it’ll make sense in a little bit, alright?”

    Tam shook her head. “It does make sense, Chrissy. You’re sick. You need help.” Tears began to shimmer in the corners of her eyes. “I never should have left you. I should have stayed here and made you go to a shrink first thing in the morning. But I was still a little drunk, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

    She reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out a small deck of business cards. “Here,” she said, putting them down on the eviction notice and spreading them out so I could see. “Chrissy,” she said earnestly, quiet desperation in her voice. “Please, come with me. Not tomorrow, not next week, right now. I’ve already called all four of them, and Dr. Hornbough can fit in an emergency session for you today.” She looked at the crumpled leaf of paper. “I can pay. For the first few sessions. Just until you can get some medication and your head clears up a bit!”

    “Tam,” I said sharply, putting my hands on her shoulders. “I told you, a shrink can’t help me with this. I have to figure it out on my own.”

    I saw it in her eyes just then. She had offered her olive branch, tossed me the life preserver she thought I so desperately needed, and I had swatted it aside. And as I did, I watched as her hope died and silent despair rushed in to fill the void. She was in pain. I was so consumed with what was happening to me, trying to understand it, to puzzle out the why and the how, that I hadn’t truly allowed myself to see what it was doing to my best friend.

    I nodded slowly. “Okay, Tam,” I said softly. “Okay. I’ll go with you.” As she opened her mouth to speak, I held up a finger. “On one condition.”

    She balked for a second, then swallowed. “What?”

    “I asked you to come here because I said I couldn’t explain what was happening over the phone. I needed to show you.”

    She looked slowly around my apartment once again. “I’ve seen all I need to see, Chrissy.”

    “No, you haven’t!” I insisted. I swept my arm out around me, gesturing at the tiny, dim space. “All of this? This is me trying to understand it, trying to…to quantify it, I guess. To piece it together and make it make sense.” I took a small step back. “My condition is this: give me five minutes to show you what’s going on. I don’t have to talk. I don’t even really need to move. I guess it depends on how you define ‘moving,’ but…” I shook my head, trying to switch my brain out of physics mode.

    “But that doesn’t matter.” I looked her straight in the eye. “Five minutes. If after those five minutes, you don’t agree that we might need to take some time and consider other options, I will go with you to Dr. What’s-His-Face’s and we’ll do it your way.”

    She stood there, still and quiet for a while. But then she nodded, ever so slightly. “Okay, Chrissy,” she said. “Five minutes. Starting now.” Her words might have been saying “yes,” but her tone, quite clearly, was saying that she had no faith that I could change her mind. I hoped she was wrong. For both of our sakes.

    I stepped back, sliding my hands down her arms and grasping her hands, pulling her lightly towards the couch. She resisted at first, but eventually pushed off of the bar counter and followed. I sat her down on the couch and stepped back a few paces. I had moved my coffee table against the wall a while ago, so I could have this very space open for what I was about to do. “Okay,” I said, a nervous fluttering in my voice. “Here we go…”

    I closed my eyes, breathing deeply as I reached for the shimmering energy that danced inside me. I touched it with my mind, gently coaxing it to the surface. Then a thought occurred to me. “Wait! Wait wait!” I said, holding out my hands. “I need you to promise me something real quick: don’t scream.”

    “I’m not going to scream, Chrissy,” Tam said flatly, looking at me skeptically.

    “You say that, but trust me on this. You’ll want to scream. It’ll make perfect sense to scream. It’ll seem like the thing to do. I’m just asking that you…you know…just try not to scream. Please.”

    She just nodded, the same look on her face.

    “Alright, well then…” I closed my eyes again, focusing. I could feel the energy inside me, reacting to my thoughts. But a horrible, creeping dread gripped me. What if it didn’t work? What if, now that there was actually someone else here watching, nothing happened, and I just stood there for five minutes looking like an idiot?

    Or worse, what if it worked, and she didn’t see it? What if I felt the change happen, stood there in front of her in what I was quickly coming to think of as my real self, and she just saw the regular old me? My hands were shaking at the thought. But she had to see it. Right? She heard my voice when it changed, after all. I’d just take it slow. I’d done this at least a hundred times by now, in one direction or the other. Take it slow, do it right, make sure I don’t destroy my parka in the process. Please God, let her see it…

    I drew the energy out. I could feel it filling up my skin. I concentrated on my clothing, making sure that the energy filled it up too, instead of just my body. Slowly, making sure I didn’t make any mistakes. At first nothing happened, and blind panic began to set in. She wasn’t seeing it.

    But then I heard her shift in her seat, inching toward the edge of the couch. I opened one eye. Tam was leaning forward, her brow furrowed. I lifted my arm to take a look. Even in the dim light, I could tell that my parka’s bright, cheery magenta had changed, shifting to a deep, dark red. The pale skin of my hand had likewise changed, darkening to the same hue.

    I looked at Tam. She was seeing it. My confidence renewed, I sharpened my focus, going faster, pushing the energy up and out. I opened my eyes, watching my friend as the dark red steam began to billow around me, thickening. I gave one final push, then I heard the snap and felt the familiar rush. I leaned forward as the change happened, landing on my front talons. Tam jumped as the transformation completed, her eyes wide with shock, her breathing fast and shallow. I had just transformed into a dragon right in front of her, and she could see it!

    I shifted nervously a little, flicking my tail. “Tam,” I said cautiously. “Remember, don’t—”

    As soon as I started talking, she sucked in a breath. She was going to scream. I lunged forward. I’d never gone out to the track or anything to test how fast I could run, but I knew that I was faster than I reasonably should be. I had been three (human) paces away, and I crossed that distance in a blur, pressing my palm against her mouth, bending my talons back as best I could so as not to accidentally scratch her.

    She screamed, the sound muffled by my hand. Her eyes were wide with terror, darting around, looking for an escape.

    “Tam! It’s me!” I hissed quietly, my crackling voice simmering. “It’s Chrissy!” I looked in her eye, but I slowly relaxed back, trying to give her space. I didn’t remove my hand just yet, but I sank back on my haunches, tilting my neck back as far as I could. She was likely uncomfortable enough. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

    I waited a moment, watching her eyes. I tipped my head to the side a little and waggled a whisker at her. “I know it’s probably not the best time for an ‘I told you so,’ but I did tell you screaming would seem like the thing to do!” Her eyes tilted down, looking at my arm, and the claw-tipped talons that were wrapped around her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said. “And I didn’t mean to spring this on you like this. But really, let’s be honest here, if I had told you over the phone that I was a dragon, I’m pretty sure you would have called a whole different set of doctors. Now, if I let go, will you promise not to scream this time?”

    Although she was still shaking with confusion and shock, Tam nodded quickly. I gently removed my talon, settling back onto all fours and shuffling away slightly.

    “Chrissy…” Tam breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “You…you’re…”

    I turned, looking myself over. I had grown nearly two feet in length since I’d first changed back on her birthday, putting me close to fourteen feet long, although about half of that was tail. My scales, which had been black at first, were starting to show color, and were slowly brightening to what looked like would eventually be a very pretty ruby red. I obviously couldn’t see them myself, but I knew my eyes had also started to change, from their new black to the same red. “I mean, I know it’s weird and all, but I think I actually look pretty cool…”

    “When…?”

    I gave her a flat look. “Really? When? You’re asking when? You’ve still got ‘what,’ ‘how,’ ‘why.’ An argument could even be made for ‘who.’ All perfectly viable openers, but you go with when?”

    “No, but…you were a person,” she insisted, pointing. “When we opened the bathroom door, you were a person.”

    “If you’d opened the door three seconds earlier, you would have seen something very different,” I admitted. “I can change back and forth.” I concentrated lightly, just enough to get thin tendrils of mist rising from my scales. I held out my arm for her to see. “This is why I took apart the vacuum. This stuff comes off me whenever I change, and I was trying to catch some so I could figure out what it was. But it kept dispersing in the air no matter what I did, so I tried vacuum-sealing a bottle so I could keep it in there.” I shook my head. “That didn’t work, either. I don’t think it’s actually mist or anything, I think it’s mostly just a distortion of the light.”

    Tam had stood up and was slowly circling me as I talked. Her eyes still looked like they were considering popping out of her face and running away, but at least some strength had returned to her voice. “And…those whisker-thingies? They move?”

    “Oh, yep!” I said, lifting them up so they were in my view and wriggling them a bit. “I think they sense electricity, too. They kept twitching and spazzing out, especially when I was near electronics. It was driving me nuts, so I turned off the breakers, and that seemed to make it stop, mostly.”

    “Your electro-sensitive whiskers were driving you nuts…” Tam repeated, dumbfounded. Clearly, that was not what she had expected to be the source of my insanity. “Can you…you know. Breathe fire?”

    I smirked. I had found it right around a week after it had first happened, the tiny little pilot light that burned inside me. I wasn’t sure if it was an actual fire inside my body or more of something in my mind, but it was there. Turning my head away from her, I sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled out across the room. At first, nothing but ripples of heat came out, but near the end of my breath something inside me caught on the pilot light, and a thin stream of orange-red flame flickered into existence at the center of the ripples.

    As my breath ran out and the fire died, I coughed a little. “I’m still…you know. Getting the hang of it,” I admitted sheepishly. “But I can do more than just breathe fire, I can control it, too! If I think real hard at it, it’ll move where I want it to. Usually.” I looked around. “I, uh…I’d prefer not to give a demonstration of that one right now.”

    She nodded, still shell-shocked. “My friend…can turn into a…a dragon…”

    “Well,” I hedged. “I mean…I don’t really ‘turn into’ a dragon. It’s more like I am a dragon, I think?”

    “What?” she asked, startled. “Chrissy, what are you talking about?”

    “I mean…” I searched for the words to describe what I was feeling. “Remember…on your birthday, when I was feeling sick and you came here to help? I told you I felt like my body didn’t fit right anymore?”

    “Yeah,” She agreed cautiously, nodding slowly.

    “Well, I…I feel…right like this. Like this is what fits. I feel like all my pieces are finally connected properly. I don’t know how or why, but for whatever reason, this is me.”

    “Okay,” she allowed. “But you also told me you were hearing voices.”

    “Well, I was hearing a voice,” I admitted. “I have no idea who she was, but she knew what was happening to me. She was the one who told me I could change back into my human shape when it first happened.” I shook my head, cutting her off. “I haven’t heard her since your birthday,” I assured her. “Whoever she was—whatever she was—I think she was supposed to help me through…whatever it was I was going through. Although it would be nice to be able to ask her some questions, now that I’ve had time to process it all a little…”

    “Chrissy,” Tam began uncertainly, using her gentle, talking-to-crazy-people voice. “How…how much time have you been spending like this?” She gestured at me with both hands. “You know, as this…thing?”

    I felt the muscles in my back tense as she said it, the crest of coppery fur there standing on end for a moment. “Uhh…I mean, obviously I haven’t gone out in this shape. Like, I change back into a human if I need to go somewhere, or if I have to answer the door…”

    “So you’ve been living like this? All the time?”

    “Well…” I fidgeted under her stare, flicking a whisker uneasily. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

    “And you think that’s healthy?” She asked sharply. “Spending all your time as a giant, fire-breathing lizard?”

    A joke came to mind, something about betting that as a nurse she probably never thought she’d have to say that, but I wasn’t in the mood to joke at the moment. “I like it,” I admitted. “I feel—”

    “Drugs feel good too, Chrissy!” Tam shouted. “Until you die of an overdose! I’ve seen plenty of addicts just looking for a high come in on stretchers! You don’t even know what this is, or what it’s doing to you! Don’t you think you should be careful with it?”

    “I am being careful,” I replied, trying not to get angry at her shouting. But my whiskers had started to twitch in agitation, and my crest was rising again. “And as for not knowing what it is, why the hell do you think I disassembled my vacuum? I was trying to—”

    “And it didn’t cross your mind that maybe—just maybe—you should talk to a professional instead of trying to science it out for yourself?”

    “A professional? A professional what?” I retorted, matching her anger with my own. “Does your hospital have a doctor with a specialty in dragon-itis? Is he gonna write me a prescription for Scale-Be-Gone? Or maybe because it’s magic I’m supposed to call a psychic? ‘Hello, Ms. Cleo? Yeah, so, the other day—’”

    CHRISSY!” Tam screamed, fury in her voice. “This is serious!”

    “Yeah, no s—t it’s serious!” I bellowed, stalking back and forth in front of her. “I’m not a f—ing idiot!” I could feel flickers of heat dancing around my snout with each breath, and the power of my blasting voice caused the room to tremble.

    Tam jumped when I shouted, edging back, heart-racing fear clear on her face. “Change back,” she ordered in a small, squeaky voice. “Right now. I won’t talk to you any more while you’re like this. It’s affecting your mind.”

    I stopped my pacing and stared at her, my anger getting dangerously close to boiling over. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again. Not blinking, I focused, snapping back into my human shape a few seconds later. But as soon as I was on two feet I turned away, stomping around the couch back to the kitchen. I ripped open my junk drawer with a slam and pulled out my cigarette lighter. I held the device up so she could see it, then tossed it at her. “Light it,” I commanded.

    “Why?”

    LIGHT IT!”

    She bent down to pick it up from where it had landed on the floor near her, not looking away from me. When she had retrieved it and stood back up, she flipped open the top and spun the wheel, striking up the flame.

    I gave it a few seconds, then I thrust out my hand toward the fire, feeling the shining energy inside me shift and spin as I did. The little flame roared and burst, erupting into a seething fireball nearly four inches across. Tam shrieked and dropped the lighter, but although the plastic device fell to the floor, the ball of flame didn’t, hovering where I’d grabbed it.

    I narrowed my thoughts. Like it was reacting to my anger, the fire cracked and flared, then, in an erratic, zigzagging motion, it zipped over to me, stopping to hover an inch from my palm. I held it up for her to see, pointing with my free hand. “Uh oh. Normal humans can’t do that, can they?”

    I dropped the fireball, and it extinguished halfway to the floor. I pointed at my eyes with both hands as I stared daggers at Tam. “Oh no, no green here anymore! You don’t get it, Tam!” I was shouting again. “This isn’t just about what I look like, this goes all the way down! And what I need isn’t some doctor to gawk at me and poke me with needles and turn me into the next tabloid cover, I need my friend to listen to me and try to understand!”

    “You know what I understand?” She asked, pointing to the counter. “I understand that you’re about to be evicted because of this! I understand that you lost your job because of this, and I’ll bet—I’ll bet!—you failed at least one of your finals, which means you’ve lost your scholarship, too! What was the plan, Christine?” She snapped, throwing up her hands. “What, were you just going to sit here in your cave doing experiments until they kick you out? They don’t deliver pizzas to the underside of the overpass!”

    She spread her hands. “You see all of this? This meets all the classic markers for addiction! And you don’t get over an addiction by feeding it, Christine!”

    “Okay, fine, sure, I’m an addict,” I confessed sarcastically. “So what should I do then, huh? Hit me with your amazing medical knowledge, Nurse Tammy!”

    “You need to stop spending time as that creature and start spending time as yourself again! You’re a person, Chrissy, not some monster, but if you don’t get some distance from it, get it out of your system, it’s going to eat you alive!”

    “Get it out of my…were you even paying attention?” I asked incredulously. I pointed at my eyes again. “It’s already in my system, Tam! These aren’t contacts, these are my real eyes now! It doesn’t matter if I’m wearing this…skin or my other one, this thing changed me on the inside! I can’t get rid of it, the only thing I can do is try to understand it, and I can’t do that by running away and pretending it didn’t f—ing happen!”

    Tears had started to form in her eyes. She didn’t respond immediately, bobbing her head slightly as she considered. “So. That’s it, then?” She asked quietly, sniffing. “All these years. Everything we’ve been through, all the hard work you’ve done? You just decide you’re gonna throw all that away, just like that? You’re not even willing to step back and look at how this thing has destroyed your life?” She strode towards the door, gathering up her bag on the way.

    “It hasn’t destroyed my life!” I protested. “I just need more—”

    “You don’t have any more time, Chrissy!” She shouted. “And neither do I. Good luck, I hope you’re happy with your choice.”

    “Tam!” I shouted as she ripped open the door, letting in a flood of light. “What the hell happened to listening to each other and helping each other? You’re supposed to be my God d—n friend!”

    Your friend?” She stopped in the doorway, turning to face me. “I’m not your friend! My friend Chrissy is a person, not some fire-breathing freak! If she comes back let me know, but until then, F—K THE HELL OFF!”

    She slammed the door shut, leaving me in silence and darkness, and my rage exploded. I snapped into my real shape, uncaring of the clothes that tore to tatters around me, and roared.

    The sound was like the blast of a fiery trumpet, and it shook the walls and rattled the floors around me. I swung my talons, smashing the counter, then roared again. Blind fury and grief drove me, and I roared and clawed and smashed everything I could until there was nothing left near me to break.

    Then I sank to the floor and cried, surrounded by the shattered pieces of everything I had ever known.
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-10-02 at 06:46 PM.

  16. - Top - End - #16
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    I'm still working on the next scene, "Naming," but I had a weird question for you, Lethologica (as it appears you're the only one who's been kind enough to read everything ): I don't know how many different RPG systems you're familiar with, but if one were to want to play a game in this world, what system do you think would work well? I'm aware that some home-brewing would be in order, but...

    I ask because I shared my work with a bunch of my IRL friends, and a couple of them surprised me by asking, completely separately, if we could do a game in the Mauna world . Of course, they know I'm a big fan of custom building, or at least custom-tweaking, my RPG systems, so...

    I don't want to do d20, because it would be too complicated;

    I've thought of NWoD, it could work, but the Mauna are fairly powerful and might be straining the system's dice pools a bit to the point where they start not making sense any more;

    My current favorite system is the Star Wars Roleplaying Game by FFG, but this runs into the same problem as above, the system is meant for people with abilities/characteristics in line with normal human ranges, not significantly higher;

    Fate is a bit too...loose for this, I think...

    I don't know. I'll have to look around. But thoughts or opinions would be nice ! And thanks as always for taking the time to read a silly stranger's work!
    "It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale." --Iroh
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  17. - Top - End - #17
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    "Lost and Found; Part I"
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    The sharp, coppery tang tickled my nose, rousing me suddenly from sleep. The transition had been sudden, and my heart was pounding in my chest, adrenaline pumping. Something was wrong.

    White eyes stared at me from the darkness; despite the jolt of my abrupt awakening, my mind hadn’t yet caught up to my body. There were white eyes in my dream. It took me a few seconds to orient myself—these weren’t the gleaming, glittering diamond-eyes of my dreams, but a pale, sickly white. And I knew those eyes.

    Instantly, a rumbling growl reverberated in my throat, crackling and bubbling like lava preparing to erupt. But it was a strained growl, drawn ragged from exhaustion. Please no. Not again…I got my talons beneath me, tensing, rising on shaking legs to face the intruder. My eyes had adapted to the darkness quickly—the tunnel stretched for maybe five yards in front of me before it twisted off beneath the street. Behind me, pounding rain hammered the concrete culvert, and a tiny river tumbled past through the narrow tunnel, spilling out into the open air. The smell of blood was vivid.

    Very little light from the city pierced through the hammering rain, making the tunnel near pitch black, but with my excellent night vision I could make out the outline of every brick, and the slumped forms of the people who had sought refuge from the weather in the drainage tunnel. But despite that, there remained a shifting, writhing mass of shadow, hovering unnaturally against the left wall, the eyes the only thing visible inside.

    I took a slow step forward, my whiskers snapping fitfully and my tail twitching dangerously. My harried growl deepened as I approached.

    The mass of shadow moved, slipping cautiously back; as it did, just for a moment, I could see the outline of the shape concealed beneath. It looked human, but it was tall and thin, hunched over, with long, spidery fingers that ended in dagger-like points. Then the cloak swarmed back around its master, ending the vision. Now that the creature had moved back, I could see the shape it had been hovering over, laying still on the cold, wet floor.

    “Get. Out.” I snarled, still growling at the beast. I had no idea if it could understand me, but my body language was plenty clear. I just had to hope it couldn’t tell how tired I was. “These ones are off limits.”

    The shape in the shadows made a sound, like a long hiss, broken by a slow clicking that quickened into something akin to a Geiger counter.

    I took another step forward. The creature didn’t move. It stood there, its dead eyes considering, clicking. Always the d—n clicking…

    Fine then. I drew in a rapid breath, filling up my entire chest, then released, my fury at the monster before me exploding out in an inferno that blazed down the tunnel, filling the tiny space with angry orange light.

    That got a reaction. The creature screamed, a piercing, keening wail that stabbed at my sensitive ears. Instantly, the huddled shapes, all except the one the creature had been preying on, started awake, crying out and trying to make themselves as small as possible, clutching at the wall of the tunnel or curling into tiny balls. Their screams were pitiful, like cornered animals, howling with mindless terror as they cowered.

    I felt it too: that scream was unnatural, and while it didn’t leave me paralyzed and powerless like it did the others, icy fear and…other dark emotions…still flooded my mind, causing my muscles to shake, draining my will to fight, to resist.

    Gritting my teeth against the shriek I roared in return, my voice ringing out in opposition like a fiery trumpet. As the light from my fire died, I could see the monster, clinging to the ceiling, its shadowy cloak roiling angrily.

    I couldn’t do this. I had no idea how to stop this thing, no idea what it could do, no one to help me…no one…I was alone, so alone, and it was going to get me. No matter how hard I fought, eventually it would get me…No! I shook my head viciously, trying to clear it. Those thoughts weren’t me, they were things it was pushing on me, insidious things that crept in through the cracks when it screamed, trying to weaken me and make me easy prey.

    But I wasn’t easy prey. Not yet, at least. I roared again, charging forward and unleashing another blast of flame. It screamed again, but this time it scuttled away, disappearing down the bend, moving entirely too fast to be natural. I snorted, exhaling another small gout of fire as I did. The f—er was getting bolder.

    “Jesus f—k, Petey,” a gruff voice slurred behind me, cracking with fright, still shaking the sleep from his words despite the fact that his heart had to be going a mile a minute.

    “Sorry, Joe,” I offered, trying to force myself to stop shaking. “It was back again.” I took a moment to steady my breathing, then turned back towards the creature’s victim. All around me the huddled forms twitched fitfully, some crying, some simply sitting frozen, unable to move as the mindless terror slowly drained from them. I stood over the slumped form, the one person in the tunnel who wasn’t awake, looking down at him. I could hear shallow breathing, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was alright. Gently, using the back of a talon, I rolled him over onto his back, lowering my head to inspect him.

    “It get anyone?” Joe asked, his voice now sharp and lucid, although still quivering slightly.

    “Yeah,” I answered. “Sarge.”

    “’T was etin’ Sarge?” Another voice asked from my right. There was a scuffling sound, then a click and a beam of light flooded the narrow tunnel with a weak, yellow glow. The beam danced around a bit as the holder of the flashlight searched before settling on Sergeant Wheeler. “Jeesis Christ,” he said, scrambling closer through the rushing water on his hand and knees. “’Ee’s gon’ be alright, tho. Ain’t ‘ee, dragin?”

    “I’m checking,” I insisted, pushing the nervous onlooker away with the back of my hand. “Come on, Lucas, it’s hard for me to do this with you so close.”

    “Sarge’s just gots to be alright…” Lucas said, his breath huffing on the verge of tears. I felt for him—the poor man suffered from a bunch of mental problems, and the constant psychic assault by a supernatural predator had not done him any favors. Sergeant Wheeler had chosen to take up the very difficult job of keeping him safe, in addition to the rigors of the street that he himself faced. Without the man at my feet, Lucas would surely have been dead long before now.

    “I’ll do what I can,” I said, as reassuringly as I could. “Now shush. And get back, that flashlight is messing me up.” He had inched forward once more, and I used the back of my hand to push him away again.

    Once Lucas was far enough that the current in the flashlight wouldn’t cover over what I was feeling for, I lowered my head over the fallen man, my whiskers hovering half an inch over his body, moving slowly and carefully. I was still learning how they worked, but like a lot of things, I seemed to have an instinctual grasp of how to use them. I could feel tiny pulses and zaps trembling through him, his nerves and synapses firing throughout his body. The impressions were extremely subtle, and I wasn’t a medical student. But by now I could tell the difference between a healthy person and one on the edge of death. I’d seen enough of them. Sarge was weak, his heart racing a bit faster than normal, but he wasn’t in any danger.

    “Okay,” I announced after several tense minutes, the near-dozen men pressing as close as they dared to without interfering. “He should be fine.” I stepped back a bit, and Lucas scrambled forward, sitting down by Sarge’s head.

    “But we need to watch him just in case,” I continued. “Lucas, you’ll keep an eye on him, right?”

    “Ah yes’m, dragin,” he nodded vigorously, not looking up, wiping both tears and his massive tangle of a beard out of his face.

    “Good,” I said, forcing a smile into my voice. “As long as he doesn’t get worse by morning, he’ll be just fine. But he’ll need to eat as soon as he wakes up. Anyone got anything? An energy bar? Something?”

    “Yeah, I do,” one of the gathered outcasts piped up, a Latin lilt to his words—I recognized his face, but I couldn’t place a name with it. He scrounged in the grubby satchel he carried, emerging after a second with a crinkling wrapper. “I already had half, hope that’s okay…”

    “It’s fine, anything is better than nothing. Thanks.” I took the proffered snack, the top of the wrapper meticulously folded over the remaining portion. “Lucas, if he wakes up, keep him calm, and make sure he eats this as soon as he’s ready,” I ordered.

    Lucas nodded, and the group began to disperse, the tense excitement of the attack dissipating, and the heavy lull of sleep settling back in. Most of them muttered a thanks to me, many patting my shoulder or rubbing my head affectionately. I wasn’t too fond of that last one—I’m not a dog or some other kind of pet. But I accepted the gesture for what it expressed, namely gratitude from those who had been lost and forgotten, for once again saving one of their own (and likely more than one) from a nameless fear that hunted them, one they couldn’t see except in half-glimpses in their nightmares.

    “Thanks, Petey,” Joe muttered as he settled back against the wall, his coat turned around and used as a blanket. “Don’t know what Lucas’d do without Sarge.”

    “No problem, Joe.” I said, settling down myself. “And stop calling me ‘Petey.’”

    “Sure thing, Petey.”

    I snorted softly. “Go to sleep.”

    “It might come back again…”

    I really hoped it wouldn’t. “I’ll stay up,” I tried to assure him. “Just in case.”

    To be fair, I was probably going to be awake the rest of the night, anyway. I wrapped my tail around myself, trying to conserve as much warmth as I could. I shivered; I was freezing. Despite my perpetual exhaustion, it had taken me hours to fall asleep the first time, the cold stinging to the point of unbearability. I had no idea what I was going to do when winter arrived, assuming I survived that long. It was already turning toward autumn, and while here in Texas the winters wouldn’t be nearly as cold as the Massachusetts winters I had grown up with, I also no longer had a human metabolism. I hadn’t had the chance to measure my internal body temperature since I’d…changed? But I had to guess it was well north of a hundred and ten. The winters here could still drop below freezing at night, and if I felt everything as twenty to thirty degrees colder…

    I huffed out a long breath over my hands. I left the fire out of it, but I allowed unseen ripples of heat to coat my talons, flexing them gingerly. It was just enough to make the cold that came rushing back even worse. I tucked them under my chest. Maybe it would help.

    My stomach growled, complaining loudly about its emptiness. Food was the bigger problem. I had grown almost five feet in length since the change had happened; I was now as big as a horse, and I was pretty sure I was still growing. And the bigger I got, the more I had to eat. My new friends tried to help as much as they could, but I just needed too much food. I had taken to telling them I was full, then hunting rats and rabbits when they weren’t around. They’d helped me more than anyone could possibly ask, and I didn’t want to make their already challenging lives even more difficult.

    I looked around the dank drainage tunnel at the dark forms. There were more than usual tonight, because of the rain. Our main group consisted of about five or six, excluding myself. Tonight we had close to double that. I knew most of their names, or at least the ones they were known by. Some of them didn’t want to use their real names, and others didn’t know them.

    I also knew pieces of most of their stories. All of them were pretty grim; but I guess that’s always how it is when you fall through the cracks in society, lost to the world and the world determined to keep you that way. I thought back over the past couple months, remembering how I’d found myself here. My talk with Tam had not gone well. At all. In my anger, I’d smashed up my apartment, and you can’t really do that and get to stay. Since I didn’t have the money to get it fixed I’d run, packed a bag and just left. At first I’d thought about crashing with one of my friends, Lindsey or Danielle or someone, but fear that Tam had told them about me prevented me from doing so.

    I’d used the last of my money renting a motel room for a week, and then that was it. No job, no home, no place I felt wanted, I was officially homeless. And with no money for gas, my car stopped running a couple days later, and was towed about a week after that. Oddly enough, I’d never really worried about being attacked. Even though I spent those first few days almost entirely in my human form, it was warmth and food I was most concerned with. Cigarette lighters were easy enough to come by, and even though my control still wasn’t very good, most gang bangers that bothered me made the smart choice and remembered an appointment elsewhere when I ignited a seething fireball in my hand.

    I’d met Joe shortly after that. He took pity on me, showed me where the shelters and kitchens were, and showed me the tunnel he slept in most nights. He’d been surprised I was as bold as I was. Most newly homeless young women were nervous around a large group of men. “I’m tougher than I look,” I’d told him then. He’d found out just how much tougher that night.

    The monster had attacked them, slinking out of the shadows to drain them dry of their blood while they slept. I had been petrified when I first saw it, and the fact that the others seemed to ignore it, their eyes slipping past it like it wasn’t there, made it all the more horrifying. I’m ashamed to admit I let it kill the first man. Mickey, I was told later. I was too scared to move. It didn’t pay me any special attention that first night; I was just another human to it, I guess.

    But after it killed Mickey and moved on to the next person, I’d pointed and shouted, and it turned, staring at me with those ghastly, pale, dead eyes. No one else saw it; those that even reacted to my escalating outburst just told me to stop screaming and go to sleep. But when the monster started towards me, I’d changed to my real shape and attacked it, teeth and claws flashing. It screamed then, just like it had tonight, and that broke the…spell, I guess…that it had them under. They heard it, and saw it, or at least saw the cloak of shadow it wore.

    It hadn’t expected my attack and it fled, leaving me exposed in front of half a dozen men. At first, they’d been terrified of me. Most wanted me to either leave, and some wanted to kill me, right then and there. But when Joe found Mickey dead, he put two and two together. They’d recently been losing people, men and women dying in the night, even when they shouldn’t be, and I’d finally seen the thing doing it, and shown it to them. He managed to convince the others to let me stay. They’d keep my secret and help me, I’d stick around and watch out for the monster that was attacking them.

    And so far, I was doing a real bang-up job of it. Yeah, right.

    Sure, the number of people who had died “mysteriously” in the night was way down. Before I’d come along, they’d lost over a dozen people in a month. Since I’d taken up the role of protector, the creature had only taken two, besides Mickey. But that success was somewhat diminished by…other things. Before, the beast had appeared in the night, killing silently and invisibly, leaving no memory of its presence besides creeping shadows. After that first encounter, it had stayed away for a week. But since then, it came back more and more often.

    It was testing me, trying to wear me down over time, beat me down with that scream until I was finally overwhelmed and gave in. And with me cold, hungry, and exhausted from now nightly skirmishes, it was only a matter of time before it got me. I was stuck; I had no idea how to beat this thing, no one to help me do it, no one who could honestly tell me it was going to be okay. I was out of my depth, flailing around blindly, and yet promising to keep the people even less capable safe from harm.

    And I was failing at that. The monster had killed fewer, but constant exposure to its evil wail was taking a toll on those around me. Whenever they heard it they reacted with primal, lizard-brained fear, but it stopped when the sound did. Except I had started noticing that while the mad panic might stop, each time they were forced to hear the scream it took little pieces from them. And eventually, it broke them.

    One man, Jenkins, had been looking off for week, then he simple walked in front of a train. Margie had a breakdown, attacking a gas station attendant and getting herself hauled away by the cops. Simmons just disappeared, and no one had seen him since. All told, while the creature had only taken two, we’d lost a total of seven since I started my watch. And that was not going to be the end of it.

    I lay there, listening to the rain. It was starting to let up, the steady hammer slowing to fitful drips. The monster. I knew what it was. At least generally. I really should just start calling it a vampire. But while I’d gotten used to the idea that I was a dragon (somehow; still not sure on the “why” there…), using the word “vampire” just seemed like a step too far. Of course, it wasn’t one of those brooding, emo teenager, pseudo-vampires that straight girls went gaga for nowadays. It was a genuine monster, and terrifyingly so. But still; a vampire? Really, come on. The image of its eyes rose unbidden in my mind, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold trembled through me. Okay, maybe…

    Eyes. That thought brought something else to mind. My dreams. There had been white eyes in my dreams, too. For a long time, now. But unlike the—okay fine, vampire’s—eyes, these were bright, gleaming, shining from within with a dazzling diamond light. Every time I saw the eyes in my dreams, it was like someone was trying to talk to me, trying to tell me something important. But her words were always too faint, I could never make out what she was saying. And the eyes seemed…familiar, too. Like I knew them from somewhere.

    I shook my head. That line of thought was getting me nowhere. If whoever the eyes belonged to wanted to talk to me, she’d just have to talk louder. And speaking of eyes, my own were closed. Huh. Guess I was closer to sleep than I thought. I opened them and raised my head, looking over at Sarge and Lucas. Lucas’s vigil had likewise been cut short by the allure of sleep, but I could see Sarge stirring fitfully, which meant he was getting better. Good. Good good…

    “Petey, wake up.” Joe was standing next to me, pushing gently on my shoulder.

    “I’m up!” I started as I awoke suddenly; Joe took a quick step back when I did. As much as we might be friends, I guess it’s still human nature to get a bit nervous when waking up something large and carnivorous. Especially when she can breathe fire.

    I forced myself to calm down, and took in my surroundings. Day had come, banishing the rain as it did. The middle of the tunnel was still damp, but the concrete spillway just outside was already dry, the leftover rainwater burned away in the late-summer heat. There was no one in the tunnel except for me and Joe, the rest scattered about on their daily beats. Sarge must have come to just fine—they would have woken me up before trying to move him if he hadn’t.

    I stood and stretched, reaching forward and grasping the concrete with my claws like a giant cat. “Joe, you know I’m a girl, right?” I asked rhetorically. “Look, I can prove it…” I focused, snapping into my human shape in a rush of glittering red mist. I looked at him and cocked an eyebrow, spreading my hands. “Why the hell do you keep calling me Petey?”

    He snickered at my comments. I did notice that he couldn’t help himself at glancing over my body, but I wasn’t worried. Joe would never try anything. He wasn’t that kind of person. And probably a little because he knew I could rip him to pieces if he did, but mostly it was the nice guy, friends thing. In this shape he was considerably taller than me, but life on the streets had left him lean, although his broad shoulders indicated he had once been heavily muscled. His dark face sported thick scruff, not quite long enough to call a beard. He shook his head at my question, averting his gaze. “It’s…I dunno, it’s stupid.”

    “Well, I could use a little stupid,” I admitted as the two of us climbed down out of the tunnel and started off towards the nearby bridge that would get us into the city proper. “If you’re gonna keep calling me that, you gotta tell me why.”

    He shrugged, walking in silence. I looked at him from the side as we pushed through the gate meant to keep people out of the culvert, bending underneath a piece of bent wire in blatant violation of the “NO TRESSPASSING” sign posted there. There were only two things that would make Joe this hesitant to talk. And I didn’t think this was about drugs. I didn’t push, letting the subject drop.

    “It was my kid,” he said suddenly, surprising me. I just nodded, allowing him to continue without pressing. “He loved that movie, f—in’, uh, ‘Pete’s Dragon.’ He’d watch it four, five times a day.”

    “Sounds like a kid to me,” I agreed, smiling. “Must have been nice. I’ve never even heard of that one…”

    “It’s a God-awful movie,” Joe insisted. “Just God-awful. But he loved it. I never could remember the name of that d—n dragon, but…” He stopped a moment considering. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

    I laughed. “Hey, it’s not me, I don’t care!” We waiting at a light for the signal to cross, heading for the first of the many kitchens we went to each day. Joe didn’t need it, but without making multiple stops, I would be in bad shape. Well, worse shape. “I don’t even know if there are any others,” I admitted.

    “So…” he paused. “You didn’t know your parents? Or, I mean…”

    “No, I did,” I explained. “They just aren’t dragons. At least, not as far as I know.”

    “How the hell does that work?”

    “No idea,” I admitted. “I either wasn’t a dragon or didn’t know I was until about a month before we met.” I looked at him out of the side of my eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s the second one, but I can’t know.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, staring straight ahead. As usual, I was wearing several layers of winter clothes, but I was still cold. Thankfully, with us being homeless, most people purposefully tried to avoid looking at us, and my oddities could be passed off as a mental eccentricity.

    “When I first…changed, I guess, there was this…voice that helped me figure things out. But I haven’t heard from her since then…”

    Joe was quiet a moment. “That’s what it makes you see, isn’t it?” He asked quietly. “Being all alone?”

    I said nothing for a long time. Finally, I nodded. “Yeah.”

    “F—k,” he mused. After a few minutes, he continued. “For me, it’s like…” he looked up at the sky and the fluffy clouds that passed by. “It’s like I’m so f—in’ terrified that I don’t care about anything else but me. I see it coming for me in my head, and I wish that it would kill someone else. Anyone else, you know, just don’t come for me.” He looked across at me, but I didn’t meet his eyes. “But it’s not me. I know that, once it’s over. It’s puttin’ that s—t in my head to f—k with me, to, you know, f—in’ scatter the herd, or whatever.

    “But once it stops, and I can start thinkin’ again, I know that I would never want it to eat someone else. If I could, I’d jump in front of it, punch it in it’s f—n face.” He smiled briefly. “That wouldn’t go well for me. But I’d do it if I could.” He put a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. “Don’t let it get to you. It’s not you, thinking those things.”

    “But for you, you know you’d never think that,” I reminded him quietly. “You know that’s not the kind of person. For you, the things it tells you aren’t true…”

    He said nothing, and we continued on our way in silence, through back alleys and seedy side streets. I brooded on the way, and he let me. I was a little surprised that Joe had finally asked me about where I’d come from. He didn’t talk about his past, and he didn’t ask other people about theirs. But I’d found out about him piece by piece. He had once had what might be considered the “normal” life: wife, great kid, job at an auto-body shop, small house in the city. But then his boy, Patrick, had been killed in the crossfire of a gang fight at the age of six. In his despair he’d gotten hooked on drugs, and soon he’d lost it all. He was clean now, but he’d been out of the world for so long that he didn’t have a way back in anymore.

    As the sun slowly arched its way across the sky, the two of us went about our normal routine. I had slept much later than normal, which was nice, I suppose. I did feel more rested than I had in a long while, but I was still fighting fatigue. Joe didn’t mention our conversation again, though he did convince the volunteers at two of the kitchens to give me a second helping. I had a medical condition, he told them. And he was known well enough that they trusted he was looking out for me. And after the first, he gave me his portion, as well.

    Joe was a good man.

    Soon—all too soon, in my opinion—the sun began to set behind the towering buildings of downtown, and we made our way back to our tunnel. It looked like it was going to be relatively cloudless tonight, probably no rain, which meant a smaller group. That was fine by me; a smaller group meant fewer people got hurt if tonight was the night I failed…

    We climbed back up the small incline, and I snapped into my real shape the moment I was inside, stretching. There were five tonight, aside from Joe and I. Sargent Wheeler stood up as soon as I’d arrived, and he walked over once I was done with the change, Lucas following close behind.

    “Hey,” he greeted cautiously, holding out a hand. “I, uh, wanted to thank you. For saving me last night.” He was looking pale, and he was walking like he was still lightheaded, but he seemed to be doing okay. Sarge had always been uncomfortable around me, so the fact he was offering to shake my hand showed just how appreciative he was.

    I smirked a little at his outstretched hand, holding up my own and wiggling my talons slightly. “You sure?” I asked.

    He swallowed, clearly nervous, but he nodded.

    I reached out and wrapped my hand—talons, claws, and all—around his, gently and gingerly, making sure I didn’t hurt him or cut him with my claws. My talons engulfed the entirety of his hand and nearly a quarter of his forearm. I gave a couple tiny shakes, then let him go. “Don’t mention it,” I said sincerely.

    “Yeah,” he nodded, shuffling nervously. After a few moments he nodded again, waved a little and retreated, sitting down against a wall and picking through his pack. After a moment, he came up with a battered paperback. One of the local libraries kept their old books that they were getting rid of in a bin for people to take instead of just throwing them away, and Sarge made a habit of taking some every once in a while, reading to the group a little each night. Currently, we were reading ‘Black Beauty,’ a book about a horse.

    Not one that I would have expected from Sarge, but he’d said he’d read it before and liked it. Although as usual, snark and crude comments from the peanut gallery (i.e. us) slowed down our progress immensely, and by the time the sun had set to the point that Sarge could no longer see the print we’d only made it through four or five pages.

    One by one, the gathered outcasts drifted off to sleep, their rhythmic breathing echoing softly in the enclosed space. I lay myself down against the wall, watching in silence for a time before I lowered my head and tried my best to join them.


    * This scene has not been edited yet, so my apologies...
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-11-06 at 01:45 AM.

  18. - Top - End - #18
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    "Lost and Found; Part II"
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    As I lay there shivering, trying my best to fall asleep by pure force of will, I became aware of a disquieting silence that had descended around me. The whisper of cars on the road was muffled by more than just concrete, and the scrapes and shuffling of the people around me seemed to come from far away. It was like I was watching TV with the volume turned down near zero, and with wads of cotton in my ears to boot. Concerned, I lifted my head and opened my eyes, looking around in confusion.

    I saw the eyes for only an instant before the wasted figure leapt on me with unnatural speed and feral intensity, screeching its bone-chilling wail as it did. I flinched back, but too slowly, and the beast latched on to me, spindly arms wrapping around my neck, dagger-like claws piercing into my scales.

    I roared in surprise and pain, the blasting sound trembling the walls, flailing to dislodge the creature. It was strong, much stronger than its size suggested, and blazingly fast. I had been caught completely unprepared, and now that it was on my neck, I was incredibly vulnerable. Panic gripped me, and acting almost completely on instinct I began to roll like a giant crocodile, trying to trap it between my body and the ground, pin it so I could get some leverage and use my strength. But it knew what I was doing and kept moving, swinging and crawling to keep itself free, all the while its blade-like claws stabbing, its evil shriek assaulting my ears.

    Something about that noise short-circuited my brain. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t react. All I could see was this monster, slashing open my neck and glutting itself on my blood. I died, alone, powerless. And again, a claw through my brain, alone. Then hamstrung until I couldn’t move and drained slowly, alive while my lifeblood was stolen to feed another…I was all alone as I watched myself die again and again in my head, terrified and helpless. And no one to would see, no one would remember…

    Alone.

    The scream had finally severed the connection between my conscious mind and my instinct, cut through whatever resistance I had, a sinister death of a thousand cuts finally overwhelming me.

    But it hadn’t severed that connection entirely—deep down, beneath the numbing lake of fear, somewhere in that glacial loneliness, I could feel the shining energy inside me, and part of it reached through the noise, keeping my mind and my instincts connected, a tiny, silver thread that the monster’s power couldn’t cut. I reached desperately for that thread, calling for the energy to help me, and it came, surging up to strengthen that bond. It didn’t push back the fear, but it balanced it, allowing emotion and reason to thrive together.

    As my body continued its instinctual thrashing to dislodge my attacker, my mind, now with shimmering energy flowing through it, took stock. The vampire’s claws were hurting me, cutting through my scales and shearing flesh, but not as badly as I would have thought. And as long as I forced it to keep moving, it couldn’t bite me. I was pretty sure that would be a bad thing. I continued my rolling, playing that I was still drowning in the darkness it was filling me with. Then, the instant my talons were beneath me I pushed up to a standing position, reaching with my left claw to take a swipe.

    Predictably, it swung away, using my neck like a tree branch to avoid my sickle-like claws. That hurt. A lot. But it gave me the opportunity I needed. As soon as its momentum swung to the right I abandoned my slash and pushed off the ground with my rear legs, leaning to the right and into the side of the tunnel. The vampire was fast, faster than I could easily track, but it wasn’t fast enough. I caught it with my shoulder, and there was a massive crunching sound as I slammed it into the wall. Bricks cracked and tumbled down around me, and I felt the monster release its grip.

    Now that I had my bearing, the true nature of this fight had appeared—the vampire was very, very strong, for a thin, gangly humanoid thing. But I was pretty strong for my size, too, and I was at least five times as massive. I pulled back from the crater I’d made, part of my mind noting with amazement at how much damage I had caused with my half-focused charge. The vampire was stunned, but only for an instant, and although they were now awake and trying to get away, my friends were still all too close.

    Taking advantage of the brief opening, I spun, my whip-like tail snapping across the beast’s back. It was sent flying, ricocheting off the far wall with a crack and then tumbling out of the tunnel and into the open night air. “GO!” I shouted at the people around me, before diving out after it. This piece of s—t had attacked the people I was protecting a dozen times and then jumped me in the middle of the night. There was no way I was letting it scuttle off to its hole again. Not this time.

    Heat rippled around my snout with each breath I took, tongues of flame dancing from my jaws, as I landed on the pitted concrete facing my opponent. Despite the two ferocious hits it had just taken, either one of which would have killed a normal person several times over, the vampire was on its feet, crouched down, waiting not thirty feet away. Outside, under the city lights and the glow of the gibbous moon above, I could see it without its cloak of shadow for the first time. He was naked, his skin bone-white just like his eyes, the flesh hanging off the bones. My blood, thick and deep red, dripped from his pointed claws. The face was sharp and narrow, with a gaping mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth. He had no hair anywhere, and I noticed with a shudder that he didn’t seem to need to breathe.

    I think I preferred him when he was hiding in the shadows. The thing was seriously ugly. For a moment we waited, the two of us sizing each other up. To be honest, I wasn’t doing great. I could feel blood trickling down my neck and from a couple of places along my back, and if it wasn’t for the energy still thrumming through me, my mind would be a muddled mess. And I didn’t know how much longer I could keep the stream of energy flowing.

    Thankfully, as we circled slowly, I could see the vampire was starting to feel it, too. He was limping, favoring his left leg, and holding his right arm like it was in pain. Good. Take that, f—er.

    Then he paused, raising his injured hand to his face and sucking my blood off his fingers, making that Geiger-counter clicking. As he did, he stood up straighter, his injured leg bearing more weight, and his white eyes faded to a haunting, glassy black.

    Oh s—t.

    “Is goooood…” The creature cooed, sucking my blood off his other hand, still making that d—n clicking noise. I had had no idea he could talk; his voice was dry and raspy, like two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together. “Good blood. Strong. Verrrrry stroooong…”

    Okay, that needed to stop. Like, now. I sucked in a breath and released a blazing stream of fire. Somewhere along the line I’d discovered that emotion was the main fuel for my fire breath, and it didn’t really matter what kind. So all the fury I was feeling, combined with all the dark things he was filling my head with, meant my blast erupted as a roaring inferno, raging across the empty spillway towards my target.

    I had made the blast as wide as I could (not that I really had much control of it), hoping that the vampire wouldn’t be able to get out of the way in time. But whatever he had sucked out of my blood seemed to have done more than just heal his injuries. The vampire dove to the side, rolling away from the fire and coming to a perfect landing on his feet. I pivoted, angling my blast to try and catch him again, but he was too fast, and in seconds he’d circled so that he was between me and the tunnel entrance. I cut my breath short; many of the people who had been asleep moments ago were now crowded at the mouth, watching the battle.

    Get out of here!” I shouted, waving my head in an angry “go away” motion. “I can’t stop it!”

    When my attack faltered the vampire stopped. For a moment he turned, looking at the gathered humans so close behind him. But he turned back, eyeing me hungrily. “Moooore…”

    “You want some more? COME AND GET IT!” I shouted in challenge, circling to the right, trying to find an angle that didn’t risk hitting the bystanders. I did not feel nearly as confident as I was trying to come across, but as long as he was attacking me, he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

    The vampire hissed, slowly starting his sinister clicking. As the click reached its crescendo, the monster hunched, and what little shadows there were rushed in around him, concealing his form, if not location. But then the shadows pulsed, flaring out suddenly before drawing back, and—just for a moment—the dry spillway seemed empty.

    I shook my head; the sensation had been disorienting, like trying to move around while crossing your eyes. My brain had known that it wasn’t seeing reality, but it didn’t change the fact that he had, for a brief instant, made himself as invisible to me as he was to humans. The shadows pulsed and flared again, then again, more and more rapidly each time.

    Cold fear sunk into my stomach. I knew what he was doing: he was attacking my mind, trying to hit me over and over until he could finally overwhelm my ability to see through his illusions. When he did, I’d be unable to defend myself. He could kill me easily, drink me dry and get super-charged, then go back and kill all of my human friends, and there wasn’t a d—n thing I could do about it.

    I was shaking, the balance I maintained between my rational mind and my emotions not strong enough to keep all my fear under control any longer. But as I shook, something happened. Like words whispered into my unconscious mind, or half-remembered memories resurfacing in a time of need, I realized this felt familiar. Maybe there was something I could do…

    “You want to play the disappearing game?” I shouted at the vampire, still clicking like some demented cricket. “Fine! I can play that game, too!” I reached deep inside, drawing out even more of the sparkling energy. I felt strung out, like a sponge being wrung dry, but I just needed a little more…

    I had recently discovered that if I concentrated hard enough, I could fade away, like a chameleon on steroids. I didn’t just change to match my background, I absorbed the light and re-emitted it elsewhere, a form of super-camouflage. I couldn’t go entirely invisible, I could still be seen as a vague blur or distortion, and the faster I moved the less effective it was, but it was enough that I felt confident it would give Count Chalkula trouble. Normally it took all my concentration just to keep it going, but as I burned the glittering power inside me, it took over the concentration needed, leaving me free to focus on fighting. For maybe a minute, at least.

    Then, my inner energy swirling, I closed my eyes. If he was going to deny me my sight anyway, no sense in distracting myself with visuals. I spread my whiskers, sniffed to clear my airway, and perked my ears, swiveling them towards my opponent. I didn’t need to see—I had plenty of other senses that could do the job. I stood there, tense and ready, waiting.

    He was good, I’ll give him that. But when you’re that fast, you can’t help but cause some wind as you move. I heard the faintest rustle, and felt the tiniest pulse of current off to my left. I juked right, pretending to have misread the cues, then sprang off my back legs, swiping with my left towards the source of the sensations. I felt the impact, my talons slicing through flesh, and I clenched my fist, hooking my claws into my target. The vampire screeched, but this time the power was gone from it—this wasn’t a hunting cry, it was a shriek of pain.

    It flailed, bringing its claws to bear, slashing up my arm, ripping out scales and flesh as it did so. It was even stronger than it had been before, but it had no leverage, and I was still much bigger. I surged up, pushing it straight down beneath me with one arm, then slashed with my other where I guessed its head would be. I felt my claws cut through flesh and bone, and the thrashing abruptly stopped.

    For several long moments, I didn’t move, afraid to even breathe. When nothing happened, I opened one eye, peeking out. The vampire’s body, sans head, was pinned under my talon, my claws wrapped through its ribcage, right around where its heart should have been. Exhaling ragged breaths, I released my pull on my inner energy, almost drained to the dregs. As I faded back into view, I slowly unhooked my claws, then stumbled away from the body.

    “Aaah!” I moaned. I was in pain. My left arm was sheared ragged by the savaging it had taken, most of the scales there missing or chipped by the vampire’s claws, the flesh beneath oozing thick blood. Pinpricks of agony still dotted my neck; the shoulder I’d rammed into the wall throbbed, and I was exhausted from drawing on so much of my inner power. I made it three steps away before I collapsed on my side, my left arm unable to support my weight.

    “Petey!” The group of onlookers had climbed down out of the tunnel, coming nearer now that the battle was over. But even though they approached, none of them except Joe was willing to come too close. “Hey, you alright?”

    I snorted at the question, the air rippling with heat at the long exhalation. “No offense, man, but do I look alright?” I glared at him for a moment, before forcing myself to soften my expression. “That thing was…ow. Really, really strong…”

    I watched him. He was looking at the body on the ground, circling it slowly at a safe distance. “Well, you sure f—ed it up good, anyway,” he mused, impressed. “It ain’t bleeding. I mean, not the normal way…”

    I forced myself to look at the body again. Both the holes I had made with my claws and the gaping gash of its severed head were oozing blood, but only slowly, not with the gush you’d expect when a dying heart gives its last, futile pumps. And what blood there was was dark and curdled, and smelled absolutely foul.

    “You know, you’re right,” I nodded, determined to make a joke despite gritting my teeth through the haze of pain. “That is the weirdest thing I’ve seen all night…”

    He smiled slightly, but his face was still etched with concern. “Hey, we need to get you fixed up,” he said, stepping a little closer and bending down to look at my arm. “I don’t think we can move you like this. Can you do the shape-shifting thing?”

    I shook my head carefully. “I…I’m not so sure that’s a good idea right now,” I admitted. “I have no idea what it’ll do, and I don’t really want to find out.”

    “Well, s—t.” He stood up, glancing around as he considered our options. “I dunno, I guess we could try to…” He stopped suddenly, staring intently at something behind me. “Hey,” he warned. “We got company.”

    I snorted again in frustration; this was exactly what I needed. I pushed up as best I could on three feet and turned towards whoever it was, moving to block Joe with my body. I was expecting police officers, approaching slowly, guns raised. You can’t have what is clearly a violent monster fight, complete with explosions, without someone calling the cops, so I was somewhat surprised when I saw who it actually was.

    Two people, a man and a woman, were approaching, jogging to close the distance quicker. They clearly weren’t homeless; they were dressed in nice but casual clothes, almost suspiciously inconspicuous, and they moved well. He was slightly younger, looking to be in his early twenties, while she was maybe mid-thirties, both of them fit and athletic. I watched them warily as they drew closer, tail twitching and whiskers flicking. For the odd scene that had undoubtedly unfolded in front of them, they seemed incredibly nonplussed, and that made me extremely nervous. A low growl, nearly subsonic, burbled in my throat at they neared.

    “I’m sorry for the delay, little sister,” the woman offered as they got within speaking range, slowing to a walk. She had an accent, something European. Italian, maybe? “We were held up. What assistance do you need?”

    What the hell? That was not the response I had been expecting at all, and it did not help my anxiety one bit. These two had just watched a dragon and a vampire throw down (invisibly for half the time), and now they were talking to me like this was just another day. I racked my pain-addled brain, trying to guess who they were. Government? Some shadowy, Men-in-Black kind of group? And what was with the “little sister” thing?

    The only reply I offered was my continuing growl, and I shifted, placing tentative weight on my injured leg. Subconscious instinct was screaming at me that I shouldn’t show weakness. She looked at me quizzically, tiny hints of amusement and understanding on her face, her pale blue eyes looking directly into mine.

    She opened her mouth to speak again when her companion gave a long whistle. “D—n!” He mused, a grin on his face as he gazed at the spindly, putrid corpse. “That was something, taking out a leech on your own like that!”

    “Nar,” the woman prompted, a trace of admonition in her voice. He turned to glance at her, and she…it was far too slight for a gesture, just the smallest twinge of her expression, but he seemed to understand her meaning immediately.

    “Yes, Sari,” he nodded immediately. There was something slightly eerie about them—they moved together, sharing a subtle, unspoken synchronization. And yet, watching their interaction, there was something achingly familiar about it, the way each reacted to the other almost as if they were one person. At her command, Nar started purposefully towards the headless body.

    “Please relax, little sister,” Sari offered lightly. “We can finish with the creature while you take your time to recover.”

    I did not relax. And although Nar was clearly focused on the vampire, Joe and I were not far away from it. My growl grew into a snarl, the crest of bronze fur running down my neck and spine standing on end, my teeth bared as he approached. “What the hell is he doing?” I seethed accusingly, addressing the woman. She seemed to be the one in charge.

    Without waiting for a reply, Joe stomped quickly around from behind me, placing himself between me and the approaching stranger. “Hey man, back the f—k off!” He pressed in challenge, standing aggressively in Nar’s path.

    Nar was not impressed. He arched a brow and huffed out an amused breath. “Look,” he offered, gesturing at the body with his hand. “You don’t want this to get any worse, do you?”

    “What I want is for you to back the f—k off!” Joe repeated, taking a menacing step forward. He looked like he was about to take a swing, while the stranger simply stood there with an amused smile on his face, entirely unconcerned.

    Just as the tension seemed like it was going to boil over, Sari cut through it. “Nar,” she said simply. “Please.”

    He turned, glancing at her for a moment, then moved back several steps, now looking at me quizzically. His boss stepped forward, slowly and cautiously, genuine concern and a touch of confusion clear in her eyes.

    Eyes. Her eyes were different! Instead of the cool blue-white they had been, her eyes now gleamed, bright orange in color with a metallic sheen to the iris, almost glowing from the inside. “Little sister,” she began carefully. “Where is your mentor? What is your name?”

    I backed away slowly, limping on my injured leg, keeping the distance, barely suppressing panic. “What the hell are you talking about? What are you?” She wasn’t human, she was something else, I was very hurt. And she was still coming closer. “Stay the hell back! And stop f—ing calling me that, I am not your d—n sister!”

    She stopped, realization dawning on her face. “You’re alone.” Her expression changed to one of quiet sadness. “All this time? Oh, my dear, I am so sorry!”

    I had had enough of her bulls—t, and I opened my mouth to shout, to roar at her. But I stopped, my voice stolen away, my jaw hanging open in shock. Glittering orange steam began to rise from her body, clinging an inch away, gathering and billowing with incredible speed, and then the snap.

    I swayed slightly, dazed, not daring to believe what I was seeing. She was gorgeous, and she towered over me, more than a third-again as long as I was from nose to tail. Her scales were a bright, burnished orange, shining with the same metallic luster as her eyes. Narrow branching horns crowned her head above a plume of white fur that tumbled down her graceful, serpentine form in a crest. Blazing eyes peered at me over her delicate snout, a small, knowing smile on her lips.

    A dragon. She was a dragon.

    As I stared, there was a quiet rushing sound and another telling snap, and I looked over at Nar. He was red, like me, and much closer to my size, but he too was long and sinuous, his eyes burning fiery red, chuckling softly to himself, his voice simmering and crackling.

    They were dragons. There were other dragons. I wasn’t…I…I wasn’t…

    “I am Varin’aa, little sister,” she offered gently. Unlike my voice and Nar’s, which crackled like fire, hers was soft, fluid and rippling. “This is my student, Narindrae. I’m very glad we found you, and I’m sorry it took us so long.” She started towards me again, flowing with feline grace.

    Hardly able to stand, I sat heavily on my haunches, looking up at her as she stopped in front of me. She bent down slowly, reaching out with her whiskers, and I extended my neck up to meet her, my own stretching out in greeting. Our whiskers touched, delicately, and I closed my eyes, feeling the tingling pulse of her nerves and heartbeat shivering through me. It was an intimate greeting, and so perfectly, achingly right

    Tears started to form in my eyes. “I…I’m not…” I stuttered, hardly able to speak, my words thick with emotion.

    “Alone?” Varin’aa finished for me. “Of course you aren’t.” She leaned forward, brushing my face with her cheek and entwining her neck with mine, a gesture I melted into, like a hug but deeper. “None of us are ever alone.”

    Hearing it out loud, from someone who was just like I was, the bottle of fear and loneliness I had been holding inside finally broke, and I cried quietly, twining tighter around her. We stayed like that for several moments, until she pulled slowly away.

    She touched her nose to mine briefly, our whiskers winding around each others, before she rose up to her full height again. She shook her head. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,” she said. “Most new hatchlings are found within a month. How long has it been for you?”

    “Umm…” I hesitated, trying to think. “I don’t…what day is it?”

    “August twenty,” Nar offered from nearby. “Twenty-ten,” he added, as if I needed reminding.

    I glanced at him; Joe had backed away, watching from a short distance with the rest of the group. I considered, counting somewhat numbly in my head. “Uh, August?” I confirmed. “So it’s been…June, July…three months. Maybe three and a half.”

    “What?” Varin’aa asked, confused. “That…little sister, that can’t be,” she insisted, shaking her head. “You’ve grown so much, you look a year hatched, at least. Maybe even two.”

    “I…” Suddenly I was unsure. I did the math in my head again, thought back across everything I’d been through. It definitely felt like it had been years, but…I looked over at Nar again. “Twenty-ten?” I asked tentatively. He nodded. “Okay…Umm…well, I changed—hatched?—on May sixth. Twenty-ten. I know ‘cause it was my friend’s birthday.” I nodded, too, gaining some confidence. “Her twenty-first, so we were doing a bar crawl, and she was born in eighty-nine.”

    I looked up at Varin’aa, almost asking permission to be correct. “So…it has to be three months. Right?”

    She stared for a moment, a puzzled expression on her face. “I believe you,” she assured me. She shook her head again. “But I don’t understand it. A puzzle for Lord Dallan, I suppose.” She looked at Nar.

    “It’s done,” he confirmed, padding over to stand next to her. “She killed it good, nothing I needed to do.”

    “Excellent.” In a flurry of red and orange mist, the two of them snapped back into their human forms. “Come, sister,” Varin’aa smiled. “We have so much to show you!”

    “I don’t…” I looked at my injured arm. To my own surprise, it didn’t look nearly as bad as it had at the end of the fight, probably not three or four minutes ago, but it still wasn’t pretty, and it hurt a lot. “Will changing make it worse?”

    “It won’t be pleasant,” she admitted. “But it won’t cause any more harm, no, and it will be much easier to walk in your second skin. We need to go through the city anyway, and so we must be discreet.”

    “Don’t worry,” Nar offered at my hesitation. “It won’t be for long, we’ve got a nice place to stretch out in.”

    I started the change, focusing, feeling the whisper of mist-like energy gather around me, but I stopped once more. “Wait…” I said, looking back. “My friends…”

    “Go,” Joe called, waving. “Any one of us had family show up offering to take us back to the world, we’d jump at the chance.” He smiled. “’Sides, you already got rid of the thing that was eatin’ us. We’ll be fine!”

    I smiled in return, giving him a thankful nod. Together, they raised their hands in farewell, some waving, some saluting. Lucas clapped wildly, pausing to use his beard to wipe tears from his eyes.

    I turned back, allowing myself to slip into my human shape and join my people. They reached out, hugging me briefly before we set off, back to the city and into a new life.
    "It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale." --Iroh
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  19. - Top - End - #19
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Here's another just finished scene. This one is officially non-canon, because Vi would never do this if Fallen is a thing that needs to happen. But the friend of mine that convinced me to do NaNoWriMo wanted to see it.

    I'm not sure if I actually like it at all, but I'm gonna share it anyway. Let me know what you think...

    "Homecoming; Part I"
    Spoiler
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    I stared out the window as the row of old houses slipped slowly by, the sight of the sloped roofs conjuring tender memories long forgotten. Or perhaps just ignored. The taxi rolled to a stop at the command of a bright red octagon before turning to the right, the cheery green street sign announcing that we were now on Cherrygrove Drive.

    A tangled knot of emotion gathered in my chest as the houses that drifted by became even more familiar. There were changes here and there—the most obvious being that nearly every house now sported an array of solar panels—but no changes in paint or paneling could erase the shape of that skyline I knew so well.

    “Okay, here we go,” the driver said, tapping the wheel lightly as he navigated the between the cars that lined the sides of the narrow street. “Cherrygrove. You know which one it is?” He reached down, turning off the meter before he glanced back at me in the mirror.

    I nodded, the house coming into view on the right as we rounded a slight bend. “Yeah, it’s that one,” I pointed.

    “You got it!” He confirmed, pulling over as best he could. “Okay, Miss Green. Looks like it’s gonna be fifty-two seventeen.”

    I pulled a slim wallet out of my back pocket, and removed the only bills inside, a pair of crisp 100s. “Thanks Jared,” I said, offering the bills through the window. “It’s all for you.”

    He took the money, glancing at it quickly before looking up in surprise. “Woah. You sure?”

    I nodded, smiling. “Definitely. Have a merry Christmas!” I opened the door, stepping out into the middle of the street, pulling my long, cylindrical duffel with me. The seats of the cab groaned as the bag’s ponderous weight was lifted off it, but to me it was light as a down sleeping bag.

    “Hey, you too, Miss Green!” Jared said, leaning out the window to give me a little wave.

    “Call me Vi,” I offered, closing the door gently. I stopped, staring up at the house. I took a deep breath, taking a silent moment to allow myself to acknowledge the swirl of emotions that stormed through me, to allow for the different way this this might go horribly wrong. For an instant, the image of curious little faces pressed up against the glass of a window flashed before my eyes. I was likely to at least get to the doorbell, it seemed. But no other glimpses of the future were forthcoming—the storm of emotion was clouding my ability to foresee clearly.

    “Family drama?” Jared asked, looking up at me questioningly.

    “Probably,” I said. “It’s been…a long time since I’ve been home.” I looked back at him, smiling faintly. “They don’t know I’m coming.”

    “Huh. You need me to stick around? Just in case?”

    “Nah, get out of here.” I waved him off. “I can find my own way if they slam the door in my face. Have a good one!”

    “You too, Miss Gr—Vi! Good luck!” He rolled up the window, waiting until I’d stepped lightly to the sidewalk before pulling back out into the street and off on his way. I smiled as I watched him drive off. We’d talked only a little, but I’d learned much more about him than he knew. As usual, he was a good man. Once you can see below the surface, you find that the whole world is full of good people, living what peace and harmony they might.

    As the glow of his taillights disappeared around the bend, I paused once more, looking around at the street I’d grown up on. The cars were different, more modern, and while the sidewalks and street were clear there was an inch or so of snow covering the small lawns. I shrugged my shoulder to adjust the strap of the duffel and set off, taking my time, running my hands lightly over the roofs of the cars as I passed. The metal was cool and smooth, with few powerful emotions soaked into their essence. After I passed in front of the Gehrigs’ house (I reached out with my mind; hmm, looks like it was the Cavanaghs’ now), I turned, my feet carrying me up the driveway towards the familiar façade.

    Strings of twinkling lights traced the edge of the gutters, flashing red and green, while a crisscross of white lights draped the bushes that still grew in front of the porch. There were a pair of minivans resting there, one red with a plate from Virginia, the other in black with a plate from right here in the good ‘ol MA. I kept going, reaching the top of the drive and turning up the short, bending walk that led to the porch. I traced my fingers along the railing as I climbed the three short steps; this was no mere house, this was a home. The people here had lived, and laughed, and loved. And lost. Their memory had soaked deep into the place, the old wood and brick transformed into something infinitely, intimately more.

    Finally, I was at the door, the same door I had known my entire youth. I had come home from school through that door, left in a scramble as I dashed away to Tam’s house down the street, my night bag thrown over my shoulder on my way to a sleep-over. I had stormed out of it, tears flying, after coming out to my family and not finding the immediate, heart-warming acceptance I had hoped for, and been gently led back through by my father later that night with the promise of their eternal love.

    The wood was the same, if more faded and scratched, and it had been repainted at least twice. A wreath hung in the middle, partially obscuring the frosted glass windows that played in a graceful half-circle at head height. The thin curtains were pulled closed over the long windows to the right, but the colorful lights of the Christmas tree shone through, blinking in and out as the silhouettes of a happy family celebrating the holidays moved within.

    I closed my eyes and held out my hand, touching the door gently, allowing the flood of emotion—both from inside and without—to cascade through me. I tried to convince myself it was enough; I didn’t need to do this. I didn’t need to break their illusions, to force myself back into their lives after so long, to make them face again the pain they had long since healed, leaving only the faintest of scars.

    But they deserved to know. Or at least to make the choice themselves. I set my duffel down gently, the porch creaking under its weight, and expanded my perceptions, taking in the activity going on inside. The living room just off the entry was the focus of much of it; two ecstatic children, their minds swimming in the wonders of presents on Christmas morning, ran and tumbled around the tree, alternatively playing with newfound treasures and seeking out boxes bearing their names for undiscovered mysteries within. Nearby, wearing his traditional Santa hat and watching with contentment, my father sat. I could feel the weight and pain of age in him, but he laughed and played with his grandchildren as best he could, handing out presents to the listed owner once things began to get too calm. On the nearby couch, a man I didn’t know and a young baby in a rocker, their minds and energy entwined with one that I knew well.

    Further in the house, past the staircase to the upper floor, the kitchen also hosted activity. Many sources of heat flared and flickered to my senses; the oven and stove burning as food cooked. My mother, brother, sister, and another woman with whom I was unfamiliar busied themselves preparing for Christmas breakfast, a tradition in our house since I had been a baby. A sad smile played on my lips, and I allowed a tear to grace an eye. The entire house, as usual, was suffused with the essence of joy and ease. But I couldn’t miss the tinge of hollow sadness, the ghost of emptiness that hung in some of the souls inside.

    Then, that ghost stirred. I heard and sensed as my sister passed by the dining room table, counting the places and ensuring there were enough. But she counted one too many.

    “Mom,” she said, holding up the extra plate.

    “It’s fine, leave it there,” came the reply from the kitchen, as our mother stopped to look.

    “No, Mom,” she insisted, shaking her head. “Please, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

    “Christmas breakfast was always her favorite,” my mother said, taking the plate gingerly in hand and setting it back on the table. “I know what you’re going to say,” she continued, cutting her daughter off. “She’s gone, there’s no point. But I’m old,” she smiled, accepting her fate, “and this is my house. And so…and if I want to set a place for my eldest daughter, I’m going to do it.” Her proud exterior began to crack, tears sneaking into her voice.

    “Mom…” my brother said, coming into the dining room with his wife.

    She waved them off. “They never found her body. And I know, I know, what it means after all this time. But if I want to keep hoping, that just maybe she’s still out there, that’s what I’m going to do.”

    My sister approached her, wrapping her in a tender hug. “I know, Mom. I know. We all miss Chrissy. But every year. The stocking, the empty setting, the extra presents…eventually, it’s not hope anymore, all you’re doing is hurting yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

    She nodded. “I know. And I was never planning to do it, past this year. Thirteen. Thirteen Christmases without her. Thirteen was her favorite number, you know. And I just thought, if my baby was ever going to come back to us, this would be the year…”

    My brother approached, rubbing her back slowly. “We all want her back,” he agreed, speaking softly. “But we have to be realistic. We all wish that one Christmas we’ll hear a knock on the door, and we’ll open it and there she’ll be, standing on the porch saying, ‘sorry I’m late, I hope I didn’t miss breakfast.’ But we have to accept that it’s not going to happen.”

    Huh. Well, if he was going to make it that easy…I reached out, rapping five short, sharp notes on the door, to the opening of “Shave and a Haircut.”

    If it wasn’t so painful, the emotion drawn razor-tight, I would have laughed at the reaction. In an instant, all activity within had stopped, the attention of every person (save the little baby) on the door. After a startled moment, the group from the back slowly came forward, approaching the entry as if any sudden move would mean what they’d just heard was a dream.

    The little children, oblivious to the adults’ reaction, rushed to the window, clamoring up the back of the couch to stick their little heads under the curtain, pressing their faces against the glass to see who it was. I smiled, kneeling down to look at them and waving. The little boy seemed to be about four, the girl perhaps six or seven. They stared, waving back, before the boy looked back into the house and declared, “There’s a lady outside!”

    “Ashley, Brandon, come away from the window,” my brother commanded. “Come on, off the…Mom, no!”

    Through his mind, I saw as he tried to reach for her, to stop her from striding to the door. But in the moment’s distraction his children provided, she took three hurried steps, flipped the metal bolt and yanked it open.

    My heart leapt in my chest, and I wanted nothing more to explode into tears, throw myself into my mother’s arms and simply be. But I didn’t. I Balanced the sea of raging passions within me, letting only a single tear to trickle down my cheek as I rose, turning to face her. “Hi Mom,” I said softly. “Sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t miss breakfast.”

    She gasped, and a hand went to her mouth, her eyes wide and filled with tears as I looked into my mother’s eyes for the first time in more than a decade. She had changed so much. Her hair was mostly grey now, her face narrow and traced with wrinkles, the veins obvious in her thin hands. Only her eyes were still the same—warm, passionate brown eyes—bright and young.

    “Chrissy,” she gasped, reaching out a trembling hand, her mind numb with disbelief. I reached out a hand of my own, entwining our fingers slowly. “Oh my God!” She sobbed, throwing herself into my arms. “Thank you! My baby! Oh, thank you, God!”

    I held her as gently as I could, wanting desperately to squeeze her tight but terrified of crushing her, allowing my tears to flow freely. “I missed you so much…” I whispered in her ear. I knew what was coming next, and released my hold just as it did.

    “Mom, get back!” My brother stepped between us, pushing our mother back and away from me.

    “Dillan!” She wailed, confused, reaching out for me again. I didn’t reach back. “What are you—”

    “Get back in the house, Mom!” He commanded.

    “Hey, Dillan,” I greeted softly, looking up at him. “Still quite the charmer, I see.”

    “Stop it,” he almost snarled, his eyes locked with mine. “What you’re doing is sick!” He pointed a finger in my face threateningly, although I didn’t flinch back, or even so much as blink. I’d faced much, much scarier than angry older brother before. “You’ve got exactly five seconds to get off our porch before I call the cops!”

    I looked him over as he issued his threat, noting with sadness how much my big brother had changed with time, too. His sandy hair had been cut short and was just beginning to recede, and the fit, athletic build he’d had when we were growing up had begun to soften as he reached the beginnings of middle age. Once again, his eyes, hazel green like mine, were the only thing that remained the same. Or, like mine had been, I guess. Now, they were a brilliant emerald green.

    “Dillan, stop it!” Mom sobbed. “It’s Chr—”

    “It’s not her, Mom!” He insisted firmly. The commotion had drawn the rest of the family to the door, faces young and old staring out at the familiar stranger on the doorstep, some with curiosity, some with confusion, some with wonder. I saw my father, his head bald, walking with a cane to steady his shaking knees. My sister, still willow-thin, and her husband, reedy tall with nearly the same round-eyed glasses.

    “Who’s that, Daddy?” The little girl, Ashley, asked innocently from the doorway.

    “Cass, take the kids upstairs,” Dillan ordered.

    “Come on,” his wife cajoled her children, brushing her long dark hair from her face as she reached for them.

    “Nice to meet you, Cassie!” I called cheerily as she started away, giving a little wave.

    “Stop it!” Dillan seethed, crowding close again. I could feel his anger boiling inside him, and the fact that I didn’t react at all to his aggressive movements only served to make him more frustrated.

    “What do you mean it’s not her?” Our mother asked, her voice still strained with confusion. “Look at her! She looks exactly the same!”

    “She doesn’t look the same!” He insisted. “This…girl is much too…”

    I arched an eyebrow at him, smiling amusedly, daring him to say it. I knew what he was getting at: even though I was clearly recognizable as the person they remembered, twelve years and more of divine power surging through my body has changed my appearance in dozen of subtle ways. The eyes was the most obvious, but I was also close to an inch taller, and my appearance and proportion had perfected itself, unearthly, haunting beauty etched in every line and curve. Coupled with the easy, uncanny grace and coiled poise, I was a little surprised they hadn’t already advanced past the question of “who” I was and onto “what.”

    Apparently, that very poise that he was hinting at caused Dillan’s nerve to falter, and he didn’t finish his thought, instead moving on to the more obvious point. “Young,” he finished. He looked back at our mom, stepping back towards the door to join his family. “Chrissy died twelve years ago,” he insisted. “If she was still alive, she’d be in her mid-thirties by now, she would not look exactly the same as she did when we last saw her.”

    “I found this guy, gives an amazing face-lift,” I joked easily. “I can give you his number if—”

    “Stop it! Just stop it!” He almost screamed at me. “How dare you come to our parent’s house on Christmas f—ing morning pretending to be our dead sister, huh? Is this how you gets your kicks, breaking old women’s hearts? Or are you trying to weasel money out of us? What thef—k did we do to you to deserve this, huh?!”

    I let him shout, allowing him to vent his anger on me. It was the least I could do for him. When he was done, I leaned ever so slightly to the side, addressing the people behind him. “Hi, Lisa. Hi, Dad.” When Dillan took in a breath to begin to shout some more, I interrupted. “Dillan, thank you.”

    The tumble his thought process took was almost comical, switching from righteous anger to jumbled confusion as quickly as if I’d swept his legs out from under him.

    “Thank you for looking out for all of them. I know that there are plenty of reasons, plenty of really, really good reasons, why I shouldn’t be who I am. Why I couldn’t be, and I’m glad you were able to keep your head long enough to question what you were seeing, to make sure that Mom and Dad were safe.”

    I looked him in the eyes and shrugged. “I could try and prove it to you. I could remind you of the time when I was three when you knocked my tooth out with a baseball,” I pointed to the tooth in question on the left side of my mouth. “And you bribed me with your leftover Halloween candy to tell mom that it happened because I fell.” I gave a breathy laugh, remembering. “I wouldn’t do it unless you included your Rolos in the deal. I didn’t even like Rolos, but I knew you did, so I wanted to take them from you because you knocked out my tooth. Eventually I gave them back, but I had a gap in my mouth most of the way through middle school…”

    I met his eyes again. “Or I could tell you about the three months when you were eight that you insisted on being called ‘Winnifred.’ You were sure it was a boy’s name because it had ‘Fred’ in it, and you thought it meant that you were a winner.” (Behind him, our dad laughed to himself; “That’s right, Winnifred!”) I shook my head. “Or I could tell you to call Tam, and ask her. But in the end, none of that will matter. You’ll have to decide if you want to accept that it’s me or not.”

    His mind worked furiously, trying to find a way, any way, that someone could know those things. I felt it as it began to dawn that maybe, just maybe, his sister was home at last.

    As he stood there, staring and fuming, Mom pushed past him and wrapped me in another hug. “My baby…” she whispered. After a few moments, she drew back, gripping my hands. “Oh, wow, your skin! It’s like silk!”

    “It’s the moisturizer,” I lied, smiling.

    “Come in, Chrissy, come in! We were just about to have Christmas breakfast!” She tried to lead me by the hands, but I stopped to bend down and pick up my duffel. “No no, let Dillan get that, it looks heavy!”

    I smirked. Pranking my big brother had always been a favorite, and this time it wasn’t even hard. I allowed myself to be led inside, giving and receiving warm embraces from shocked and disbelieving family.

    “Chrissy, is it really you?”

    “My Lord, my little girl…”

    Finally, I let myself cry softly, melting into their touch. I hadn’t realized just how much I had missed my family.

    The tender moment was broken by a massive thunk from just outside the door. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is in this thing?” Dillan tried to lift my duffel again, struggling to lift the bag off the ground and pull it inside the house. He stumbled on the threshold, almost toppling over.

    “Woah, there!” I said, catching him with one hand and setting him back on his feet. I took the strap from him and set it easily on my shoulder. “Sorry, I was working before I came here and I didn’t have time to stash my equipment.” As he steadied himself, he stared with wide eyes, looking from the bag to me and back again. “I’ve been working out,” I informed him. “Pilates. Great stuff. Come on, Dillan, you used to be the buff one!”

    I breezed past him, guiding my bag with a hand so that I didn’t hit anyone with what was, in effect, a quarter-ton battering ram. I gave several more hugs, then held out my hand to the one man there I didn’t know. “Hi, you must be Lisa’s husband.”

    “Yeah, Dave,” he said, shaking slowly, looking at his wife questioningly.

    She nodded, still clearly shell-shocked. “It’s…her.”

    “It’s nice to meet you, Dave,” I said warmly. “Sorry I missed the wedding, I was…busy. Story of my life, recently.” I looked between him and my sister. “And congrats on the little one!” As the door shut behind us, I turned to look at my brother. “And you, too! Wow, you with kids…” I paused, staring at the floor. “I…I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?”

    The entry was separated from the living room by a low wall, the top decorated by a half-dozen pictures and mementos. I reached out tentatively and brushed my fingers along them, feeling the swelling crush of emotion imbued in those simple objects, reveling in the tide of memories that those emotions invoked. “To the DIVINE, how I’ve missed this house…” I muttered, sniffing. I hadn’t even realized I’d started crying again.

    “Is everything okay?” Came a call from the top of the stairs. Cassie had appeared at the sound of the door, and was looking down uncertainly.

    “Apparently we’re letting strangers into the house, now,” Dillan said from the doorway. The skepticism was still present in his voice, but I could tell that he was slowly coming around. His swirl of emotions was still dominated by bitter anger, but I could sense flashes of guilt as well.

    “Dillan, stop it!” Mom scolded, slapping his arm softly. “Chrissy, breakfast is almost on the table!” She said, trying to lead me back to the kitchen.

    “It smells great!” I said, taking in a deep breath of the delicious scents that wafted through the house. “But trust me, you don’t want to cook for me. I’d eat you out of house and home. Here, let me put this down real quick…” I slipped around the dividing wall, sliding my bag underneath the end table on the other side.

    I paused after I did, looking over the small, framed pictures that rested there. Dillan and Cassie’s wedding. Lisa and Dave’s. A formal picture of Dillan’s young family, all in their nice clothes. His college graduation. Hers. And finally, my senior picture, and my high school graduation. I picked them each up in turn, staring, memorizing every detail. Love suffused every one, but pride, joy, and heartwarming tenderness joined it in the pictures of my siblings and their families. The ones of me were tinged with sorrow, grief, and heartbreak.

    That was my legacy to my family. I had chosen it, chosen to rip them apart and let them sort it out. I set down the final frame. It rattled slightly as I did; my hand was shaking, just a little. I stared at it—my hands hadn’t shook in five years or more. I looked up, meeting the eyes of my family, who waited, watching. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice catching. “I’m so, so sorry.”

    I turned, looking at the twinkling Christmas tree, the lights cycling through a rainbow of colors, silver tinsel draped on every branch. I could smell and feel that it was a living tree. Dad had always insisted on living trees, and I was glad to see that even in his old age, he was keeping the tradition alive.

    I crossed the living room slowly, stopping in front of the tree, my eyes and mind lingering on each of the personalized ornaments in turn. I knew Mom was coming up behind me, and soon she hugged me from behind. I slipped a hand into hers, rocking back and forth with her. Soon, the rest of the family had filed into the living room behind us. Once again, I could sense where the conversation was headed.

    “Where did you go, Chrissy?” Lisa asked. The shock had finally worn off, and now anger was beginning to stir in her as well. “Why did you leave?”
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-11-20 at 10:14 PM.

  20. - Top - End - #20
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    "Homecoming; Part II"
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    I didn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s complicated,” I admitted finally, still staring at the tree.

    “‘It’s complicated?’” She repeated, incredulous. “Seriously?” Her voice was still soft, but the raw pain was apparent. “That’s all we get? After twelve years? What, you think you can just show up here after all that time, say you’re sorry and we’re just supposed to forgive you?”

    “Of course not.”

    “D—n right, of course not!” She said, heating up. “We had a funeral for you! Dillan and I had to hold Mom while she cried about losing her daughter and try to tell her it would be okay, while we were still breaking from losing our sister! We both took time off from work to be here with Mom and Dad when Dad had his stroke, making sure they were okay, and where were you? Your work was too important to take care of your own father? To even let us know you were still alive?”

    I dropped my head, closing my eyes as more tears came. They were absolutely right.

    “What was her name, Chrissy?” Dillan accused. When both of our parents objected, he waved then off. “Oh, please! If she actually is Chrissy, then you know that’s what happened! She ran off with some bimbo and couldn’t even give enough of a d—n about her own family to let us know she was still alive! Did you think it was true love, Chrissy? She obviously didn’t, ‘cause she’s not here with you, is she?”

    “Dillan! Please!” Mom gasped.

    “No, Mom, it’s okay,” I said, releasing her hand. “He’s right.” I turned around to face them all once again. Dad had taken a seat on the couch, but the others remained standing. I took a moment, looking each of them in the eye, before addressing my brother again. “Her name was Kyrala. And she died. In nineteen eighty-five.”

    “Oh, bulls—t, Chrissy!” He shouted back. “You weren’t even born in nineteen eighty-five! I wasn’t born in nineteen eighty-five!”

    “I know,” I nodded. “That’s kind of the point.”

    He took in another breath to start ranting again, but I held up a hand to cut him off. There was no Craft in the motion, no stirring of my Spark, but the force behind it was such that all thought of retaliatory accusations fled his mind. Everyone present felt the power and surety behind it, and those who had known me were shocked that I could be so forceful with such a simple gesture. It was a mark of how much I’d changed that I expected nothing less than the reaction I got.

    I took a moment to gather my thoughts, and then I led my mother to sit down next to her husband on the couch. I returned to my place in front of the tree, considering. “Look,” I started, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “I know I’ve caused you all a lot of pain. More than you ever deserved, and more than I can ever make up to you. And I’ve missed so much, more than I could ever catch up on. And even if we had the rest of your lives together to fix it all, it wouldn’t be nearly enough time.”

    I swallowed before I continued. “And I am fully aware that I have no right to come here, disrupt your lives, and ask for forgiveness for it all, and then leave again, just like I did before.”

    “Chrissy, no, you don’t—” Mom started, moving to stand.

    “No, Mom, please,” I begged, shaking my head. “Because the truth is, even though I’m here now, I can’t stay. I never could. Even if we said our piece, hugged it out, mended our fences, made ourselves one happy family again…I probably won’t be able to come back.

    “So,” I continued, coming to the bleak point of my little speech. “The way I see it, we’ve got two options, here. We could sit down, and I could spell it all out for you, tell you where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing, why I never got in touch for all those years. And if I did, some of you would say it’s ridiculous, or insane. Some of you just wouldn’t understand. And in the end, after it’s all explained, some of you might hate me. And your world would be changed, your sense of safety, of surety, would be gone entirely, and you could never get it back.

    “Or, we could forget that. We could come together and have a happy Christmas, like we used to. And we can laugh, and love. I can hand out the presents I made, and try to make up for all the time I missed. And then tomorrow, you can all wake up and I won’t be here, and you can remember it as a happy dream. Our Christmas miracle that was too splendid and too fragile to last. We say those things that we never said but wish we could have, have one more day as a family, and then I go back to being dead, and your lives can continue on as they always have.”

    I looked around the room again. My words had had different effects on each of them. “I’m not going to make that choice for you.” I told them, shaking my head. “I made it the first time, and this disaster is where we ended up. I’m not going to take that from you again. Because no matter what, I can’t stay. We have this one day, and I’m going to make it what you want it to be.”

    Mom was crying again. I didn’t need to sense her mind to know that she didn’t want either option; she wanted me to stay. But the rest of the room had come to a silent agreement. It was my father who voiced it first, looking up from holding my mother. “Look, Chrissy…” he began slowly. “I think we all deserve to know why.”

    “Dad’s right,” Lisa agreed instantly, nodding, her eyes red but her face hard.

    I nodded again. “I agree. And having the chance to explain is the reason I’m here. I just didn’t want to take the choice away from you.” I paused, trying to determine the best way to proceed. I couldn’t exactly do this the same way I had with Tam; I was much too big now. “Sorry,” I said after a moment. “I’m just trying to think of the best way to do this. I tried it before with Tam and it did not go well.”

    “Tam knew you were still alive?” Lisa asked. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

    “You’re about to find out.” I nodded to myself, a plan forming. “Okay, we’ll do this in baby steps, then. So, the first thing you need to know is that my name is not Chrissy anymore.” I gave a moment for the confused muttering and incredulous scoffing to pass before continuing. “In a way, it never was. Christine was only really a placeholder, if you will. A transition point between two more solid states.”

    “So what’s your name now?” Dillan asked skeptically.

    “My name is Virial,” I said, preparing myself for what always inevitably followed such an introduction.

    “Jesus,” he breathed, shaking his head. “That’s a ridiculous name!”

    “It’s actually rather traditional among my people,” I informed him.

    “Your people?”

    I nodded. “Yes, my people. I’m not human.” That statement had exactly the effect on my family as I had expected, so before anyone could get up any momentum in attempting to refute it, I cut them off, spreading my arms. “And since I know what that sounds like, I invite you to answer me this: do I look human? Can you honestly say I look normal? At all?” As expected, my question re-focused their attention on the oddities of my appearance, the eerie perfection of form, the uncanny precision of motion, and especially the jewel-like sparkle in my eyes.

    “So humoring your ridiculous story, what are you then?” Dillan asked. “Are you an elf, like in those books you were always going on about?”

    “No.”

    “Oh, maybe you’re a vampire? Those are all the rage now, right?”

    “Ugh, God no!” I shook my head, revulsion clear on my face. “I hate those things.”

    “But vampires are real?” He said, back in his skeptical stride now. “Are you a werewolf?”

    “No, I’m not a werewolf,” I said firmly. “You can stop trying to guess, Dillan. I’m going to tell you.”

    “Fine then. What sort of fantasy creature are you, Chrissy?” He folded his arms over his chest, looking extremely upset. While Lisa hadn’t joined in in the exchange, she was thinking the exact same thing. My parents were mostly just confused.

    “Our name for ourselves is Mauna,” I explained. “And this is where we start to run into trouble, because translating that into English is tough. There’s two ways to do it: one way to describe what we look like, which is problematic, another to describe what we do, which can give the wrong impression.”

    “So, how did you ‘become’ one of these ‘Mauna,’ Chrissy?” Lisa pressed, skepticism thick in her voice.

    “I didn’t,” I answered, shaking my head. “I was born one. We reincarnate. Well, we use the word ‘recur.’ I mean, the colloquial usage of reincarnation has basically just come to mean ‘rebirth,’ but the original meaning has a bunch of implications implicit in it that are really misleading, and…” I cut myself off. “Not the point. We reincarnate—we seem like humans while we’re growing up, but we’re not. And then eventually our real selves emerge, and we reconnect with our past lives. We can talk to them, remember their experiences. Use and build on their power.”

    I could tell that I was losing them, that even with my unnatural appearance they were no longer willing to accept what I was saying. So it was time to give them some proof. “Here, look. I mentioned, Kyrala right?” I held out a hand in front of me, concentrating. For a few seconds nothing happened; the people in the room shifted irritably, their patience thin and anger beginning to boil. But just before it became too much, the room filed with the sound of a zipper being slowly pulled open.

    Most of them turned to look. My long duffel unzipped itself, the edges of the opening shrugging apart. A few moments later, an object began to rise from within, floating gently into the air and up to the height of my outstretched arm. It was large and mostly rounded, vaguely shaped like a spade, twice the diameter of a large dinner plate and nearly two inches thick at the widest point, perfectly white in color. From certain angles as it drifted upwards, the light hitting it splashed off in myriad sparkles, as if it was covered in a paper-thin coat of diamond.

    When the object reached the height of my hand it slowed, then began to drift towards me, drawn across the living room by pure Will, made realized as physical force by the power of my Spark. The outstretched hand wasn’t actually necessary to manipulate objects, but even with all my strength I was still learning how to manifest Will, and it helped to sell the idea that I was controlling it to my family. As the object floated towards me the crowd parted, their faces a mix of amazement and confusion. A second or two later and I reached out and grabbed it from the air.

    “Holy s—t,” Dave muttered.

    “Here,” I said, handing the gleaming object to Mom to inspect. “Kyrala was my Predecessor. My most recent past life. This was one of hers.”

    She took it, looking from it to me in wonder. “One of her what?”

    “One of her scales,” I answered, smiling.

    “Scales?”

    “A dragon,” Dillan said, finishing the chain of logic first. “She’s saying that this Kyrala lady was a dragon. Which means she’s saying that she’s a dragon.”

    I nodded, my eyes closed. “And the point goes to big brother!” I opened my eyes to gaze across the room, their inner light blazing out and filling the living room with dazzling emerald brilliance. “Yes, I’m a dragon. Although we really do prefer Mauna.” Almost as one, the members of my family gasped when my eyes blazed with light, most of them raising a hand to shield their own eyes from the intensity.

    After a few moments, I dialed it back, dimming the glow to something softer. “We’ve been around for hundreds of millions of years. I’ve been around for hundreds of millions of years, over tens of thousands of lifetimes, living and dying and living again.” I looked around again, no one willing to meet my shining gaze. Except my mother. “I chose you,” I told her softly, reaching out a hand. “The process is…weird. Hard to understand, even for us, but we choose who we recur as, and I chose you, Mom. Dad. Dillan. I chose you all to be my family, to grow up with you, to learn how to see the world’s beauty again through new eyes. To learn again how to love, and to remind me how pain and loss can make love all the more incredible. And that means that you’ll always be my family, even if I live another hundred million years more.”

    I leaned in, wrapping both my parents up in a big hug. I could feel their confusion. They didn’t understand what I was saying, not really. It was too big, too unexpected. But they still loved me, that much I was sure of.

    “But you don’t…you know, look like a dragon…” I released my parents and looked up. My brother’s skepticism and anger had receded, leaving mild bewilderment behind.

    “It’s complicated,” I smiled. “Here, let me show you…”

    Time to blow their minds.

    I thrust a hand out towards the window, and as I did, the wall of the house melted away in a noisy rush, fracturing and spiraling out of existence as if it had been nothing more than an image in a kaleidoscope. Behind that wall another world waited, and in a fraction of a second it was as if the side of the house simply opened up into another place, another time.

    Just behind the couch large, leafy ferns flourished. Low, clinging mists drifted in through the now open doorway, and out on the open plain visible in the mid-afternoon sun wandered herds of dinosaurs: a family of hadrosaurs grazed on the low branches of trees, while a short distance away a pod of horned ceratopsians wallowed in a wide, shallow pool. Cassie shrieked and jumped as an enormous dragonfly that glittered azure buzzed into the living room and alighted on the TV on the opposite wall with a tinny sound of impact, turning this way and that to observe its strange new environment.

    “Oop!” I laughed quietly. “Zii zii…” I sent a mild gust of wind its way, coaxing it back into the air and through the opening in the side of the house. As we watched it buzz its way through the sky, two figures emerged, walking through the ancient paradise. They were Mauna. One was enormous, well over two hundred feet in length, his stately head nearly eighty feet off the ground. His scales shone like moonlight reflected on perfectly still, black water, rippling with the light as he moved, flowing with slow, impossible grace. Next to him and significantly smaller (yet still very large) was another Mauna, her armor a pretty sky blue, patched here and there with bands of deep midnight. The pair walked slowly, observing the world around them and speaking gently in our ancestral language.

    I smiled to myself, watching the amazed reactions and rapt attention of my family. The entire display was an illusion manifested from my Spark, even the bug and the mists that appeared to extend out of that other world and into ours. I had molded it to the perceptions and points of view of each observer, giving it the appearance of depth, but it they tried to hop over the couch and through the apparent portal, they would run into (and likely crash through) the window out into the mild Christmas morning.

    “Can…can they see us?” My dad asked nervously, gripping his cane tightly as one of the hadrosaurs wandered near, and the two Mauna meandered closer.

    “No, Dad, they can’t,” I confirmed. “Those are Mauna, in our true form. When we Hatch, and the truth of our nature is revealed to us, we keep the form we were born into as a second skin, something we can return to if needed.” I laughed quietly. “It changes with us, though, which is why I don’t look exactly the same as I did before. But it’s very helpful to not have to be fifty feet long all the time.” I watched the reflection of my ancient people for a moment as they stopped, standing side by side and observing something. A lesson was beginning. “The big one is Ladreain. He was the teacher and mentor for Kyesh’aa, my past life. That’s her, there. This was the last life I led before the end of the Cretaceous.”

    We watched for a few moments before I moved my hand as if I was flipping the page of a giant book. The scene changed again, the sound of rushing wind and the kaleidoscopic spinning impressing the weight of ages on the change. As usual, the hand gestures were completely unnecessary, but the people around me expected them.

    As the new scene coalesced, the wall seemed to lead to a vast desert of yellow sands. Two figures, a man and a woman, stood nearby, facing out at the tower of ancient scaffolds surrounding the massive blocks of the Great Pyramid as it stood partially constructed. The man himself was fairly unremarkable: he was elderly, his skin tanned to leather by years in the harsh sun, but the simple but ornate decoration to his robes indicated he was a person of status.

    The woman next to him, however, was stunning. A long cascade of flowing red hair tumbled down her back, and her skin was nearly ivory white, her eyes gleaming like diamond, burning with a quiet inner light. She wore a simple shift, which left her breasts bare; I could have altered my illusion for modesty, but that had been the fashion at the time and I didn’t want to pretend things had been different than they were. She stood with a poise and precision that made even my own seem clumsy in comparison, and she stared off at the construction taking place across the sands, her expression inscrutable.

    The man looked at her, clearly deferential, and spoke softly in old Egyptian. After he finished, the woman nodded ever so slightly, and the man, satisfied, turned and walked away, his destination hidden by the angle of the view.

    “That is Kyrala, my Predecessor,” I told them, watching as five new figures flicked into visibility, having been standing unseen not far away. Each of them shared had gleaming eyes, greens and blues predominant, and each moved with uncanny grace, although not nearly as refined as that possessed by my past life. The group began speaking in Umauni, discussing the progress and timeframes of the project. I understood it, but I didn’t add illusory subtitles or alter the sound of their voices.

    “Is that…the pyramids at Giza?” Dillan asked in awe. “Your…this Kyrala lady…she used slaves to help build the pyramids?”

    “The Great Pyramid was not built by slaves,” I told him. “It was built by thousands of master artisans, from all over Egypt and from neighboring kingdoms, and they were paid very handsomely for their skill. The Pharaoh wanted only the best for his tomb, and was willing to pay any sum for it. Thankfully, he never figured out that his tomb was in fact a prison for…something…that threatened the world. If my people could have built it ourselves we would have, but there were some unfortunate complications that prevented us from doing so.”

    I watched as the group dispersed, leaving Kyrala alone on the sand dune. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t even turned around during the conversation. “Thankfully, when we approached the Pharaoh’s chief architect, he was willing to help us. And to convince the Pharaoh that he needed such an elaborate tomb.”

    “What’s in there?” Lisa asked tentatively.

    I shook my head. “Can’t tell you. The thing the Great Pyramid was built to contain is memetic. It spreads and grows stronger the more people know about it, so telling you would actually put the world in danger for no reason other than that information about the thing has been spread.” I spared a glance around the room; that statement had invoked a not-insignificant amount of fear. “I told you your sense of safety might be compromised by me telling you the truth.”

    I turned back to the image. “Luckily, there’s only one of it, and two-and-a-half millennia trapped in the Pyramid weakened it to the point of near powerlessness. It’s no longer a danger as long as those of us who remember it don’t actively spread information about it. The Great Pyramid could be leveled with no consequence.” I smirked, answering a question they were thinking but hadn’t asked. “And no, there is nothing in the others. The other Pharaohs saw that Khufu had a snazzy tomb and wanted one, too.”

    After one more moment, I turned my hand again, shifting the scene. “Perhaps something a bit more recent…” The new scene was looking down from above, through the ceiling of a small, crowded bar filled with young people enjoying drinks. In the center of the image was a small table with six young women, each wearing revealing attire and toasting.

    One of them, with lovely mocha skin and dark expressive eyes, handed a triangular glass with a long stem that was filled with green liquid to one of her friends, a girl with long sandy hair and hazel eyes. “You’ve been good, have one of these!”

    “I feel good!” She took a drink, moaning with pleasure as the alcohol hit her lips. “Oh, God, I needed this! I’m so sorry for scaring you earlier. I think it really was just stress.” As she went to take another drink, her entire body spasmed, flailing and retching in excrutiating pain, unable to scream as her voice caught in her throat.

    I looked away from the image, watching my family’s reaction. I didn’t need to watch, even as I shifted the image again to show the tiny bathroom that had been seared into my memory as one of the defining places of my life. I was intimately familiar with the details of my own Hatching. I explored the faces and minds of the people around me as the image of my younger self played across the wall.

    “Oh God…” “Go away!” “Who are you?” “What’s happening to me?”

    The hearts of my parents and siblings were breaking as they watched me twitch and writhe on the floor, shouting at a voice that they couldn’t hear. When my first shift occurred moments later, revealing my tiny, black-scaled form as a brand new hatchling, my mother and brother jumped.

    I allowed the scene to play a little longer, until Tam had led me from the bar and into the waiting cab, then I changed the image again. Now, hiding in the ceiling of my college apartment, we watched as Tam entered and I tried my best to explain to her the incredible change I had undergone. When I showed her my true shape and she reacted with fear and anger, a ripple of indignation passed through the gathering.

    “What the hell, Tam!” Lisa whispered as she shouted her final words and slammed the door.

    “One more…” I told them, shifting the scene. I jumped through time, pausing at several points across the next few months. Me in a dirty motel; sleeping in my car on the side of the road; sleeping in alleys; finding an old friend, Joe, who was now deceased; my encounters with the creeping terror that had been preying on them (“THAT’s a vampire…”), and my final, heated fight with the beast.

    As I was found by my people for the first time, and they led me away to a new life, I closed my hand into a fist. The images disappeared, the window and the outside world fading back into existence. When I was finished, I stood with my hands clasped in my lap, waiting for reactions, my eyes still glowing gently. My family looked around, meeting my eyes and each other’s, processing what they had just seen, both the events shown in the images, as well as the very existence of the power that had allowed those images to appear in the first place.

    My brother-in-law was the first person to speak. “So, magic is real? Monsters are real?” He reached out to take his wife’s hand, and then to touch the head of his little baby, still sleeping in her rocker. He looked at me, and the quiet fear he was feeling was clear on his face. “What does that mean? How…how can…?”

    I nodded, understanding his question without him needing to finish. “Yes, magic is real. We call it the Craft. Willcraft. And yes, there are some real monsters out there, that are incredibly dangerous. And I know what you’re feeling. You’ve got a brand new family, just beginning to bloom. How can you possibly keep her safe from something so unknown, so scary?

    “But you don’t have to.” I cast my gaze around the room, pulling everyone’s attention in once again. “That’s our job. Because like I said, there are two ways to describe us. ‘Dragon’ might be the word that describes what we look like, but ‘angel’ is the word that describes what we are. We’re part mortal and part divine, and we were created—we exist—to protect this world from those dangers.”

    I reached out a hand for my mother’s, pulling her up for a hug. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get in touch earlier, but there was so much I needed to do. To keep other people safe. And that’s why I can’t stay. Because there are so many things that need to be done to make sure you all get to keep on living your lives without needing to worry.”

    I let her go, looking deep into her eyes. “But I’m here with you for today. So what do you say we break out some breakfast?”
    Last edited by Absol197; 2016-11-20 at 10:15 PM.

  21. - Top - End - #21
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    This is a rather important scene, but it's been kicking my butt so much it's taken me FOREVER to write it. It's still not 100% done (as you'll see), but I wanted to get it at least out there, so people can get a bit more context into Mauna society. Assuming anyone is actually reading these...

    "Naming"
    Spoiler
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    The click of my claws on the ancient stone echoed in the cavernous hall as I paced nervously. On both sides, enormous statues of drag—Mauna—stood in fastidious rows, guarding the path to the ancient arch on the far side. Even though each statue stood eighty feet high or more, it felt like their eyes were following me as I stalked back and forth, crowding in around me.

    I stopped and glared up at the nearest one, his noble head almost vanishing into the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, despite the enhanced night vision I enjoyed in my drag—Mauna!—form. “You got something to say?” I demanded.

    The statue said nothing.

    “That’s what I thought,” I muttered, going back to my pacing.

    “If they talk, they have not done so in a long, long time, milady.” Descending down the nearby stairs, chuckling to himself, came the person who had taken on the dubious honor of being my teacher, Lord Abraxas. I wasn’t sure yet what made him a Lord (or me a Lady, for that matter), but he definitely seemed like someone who deserved the title. He was calm, self-assured, and although his demeanor was often relaxed and casual, he carried himself in such a way that you could just tell it was only because that’s how he wanted to present himself.

    And the giant horns and lion-like mane of his didn’t hurt the image, either. “It feels like they’re watching me,” I told him, stealing one more furtive glance at the statue I had accosted as I walked over.

    Abraxas nodded. “They may just be, milady,” he said, a knowing smile on his face. “They each have been empowered by the greatest Artificers that our people have ever known. They are said to be able to move and fight in defense of this temple if the need arises.”

    My eyes flew wide in shock. It was definitely shock, not fear. “Umm…” I looked up at the statue again. “What?”

    “I have not seen it,” Abraxas admitted. “It is only a legend. But you can feel the touch of a Spark still lingering in them if you focus.” He stepped to my side, looking up with me. He was more than a third again as long as me, and I felt small standing next to him.

    “I doubt they still have enough strength left to do more than watch.” He turned his head, giving me a significant glance. “But maybe be careful, just in case!” He chuckled again. “So,” he continued after a moment. “Are you ready?”

    “Probably as much as I can be,” I admitted. “Although even if everything else goes horribly wrong, at least I’ll end up with a name.”

    “In the end, that is all that matters,” Abraxas smiled. “Your recurrence may be important to our people, but first and foremost, the Naming ceremony is for you.”

    “I’m thinking Dallan feels differently,” I pointed out. Like Abraxas, Lord Dallan was one of our people’s seven High Nobles, and he had been in charge of most of the preparations. And unlike Abraxas, Dallan was not at all casual; after spending near three weeks almost solely in the giant library tower he curated, I was quite familiar with his exceptionally reserved, formal demeanor. I was fairly confident that any mistakes during the ceremony ran the very real risk of giving him an explosive aneurism.

    Abraxas laughed out loud at my assertion. “I am certain he does!” He agreed. “But if he does, then that is his to bear. Focus on what you want from tonight, not what others want from you. Let Lord Dallan and Lady Sarin’ii concern themselves with what our people need.”

    “Okay…” I said, considering his words carefully. “So then…what do I want out of tonight?”

    He tossed his head lightly, causing his massive horns to swing side to side. “I do not know. That is for you to determine.”

    “And you couldn’t have told me I needed to think about this earlier than five minutes before we start?” I mused absently. I hadn’t thought about the ceremony as something for me at all. Dallan had been so focused on making sure I understood the history and tradition of the ceremony, memorizing the ritual and the layers of meaning it held, how we were changing it because of who my Predecessor was…

    I looked over at my teacher-to-be. “So…what was your Naming like? What did you want out of it?”

    He smiled at my question, nodding his sage approval. “Ah! Let’s see now…” He considered, his eyes closed in memory, tossing his horns some more. “I was…troubled…in my youth. Unsteady. I yearned for continuity. So before my Naming I spent much time speaking with Amalia, my Predecessor, so that my brothers and sisters might see her in me. My soul has a tradition that each name it wears will begin with the Umauni letter ‘Am,’ which was helpful. But I also presented myself as she had been: willful, and perhaps a bit irreverent, so that our people might know me through her.”

    I stared. Looking at the calm, regal creature standing in front of me, I could not imagine him as either troubled or irreverent. “That’s…So, I’m guessing you’ve changed just a little since then, huh?”

    “Oh yes,” he said, giving the same soft chuckle that always seemed near the surface. “We recur for many reasons, and my Spark had lived its time as a firebrand. It needed space for quiet and reflection. And although I did not know it, I think what I wanted from my Naming was permission. To move forward as myself, not simply as Amalia’s Inheritor.”

    “And…did you get it?”

    “In a way,” he nodded. “It was not an immediate thing, it required continuing dedication to understanding the relationship that a Mauna might have with his or her Predecessor. But after the ceremony, I felt as if I had been Abraxas all along, and I might explore what that meant.” He locked his gentle eyes with mine, subtly emphasizing that his next words were important. “I realized in time that, even though Amalia and I might be the same person, I was not bound to live as she did. Finding the ways we differ from our Predecessors is as important as finding our similarities.”

    I dropped my eyes from his, looking around guiltily. After an uncomfortable moment, I settled on looking up at the giant statue again. What he was saying sounded nice, but my Predecessor cast one huge shadow. “Yeah, well…” I shook my head. “I don’t think I’ve got any similarities with Kyrala…”

    “I doubt that very much, milady,” he offered gently.

    I was not nearly as sure as he was. “I mean…” I hesitated, going over the few conversations I’d had with the great Guardian herself. “It just that she’s so…I dunno. Not scary, but…overwhelming, I guess? And gi-normous.”

    Abraxas nodded along with my words. “Yes, she certainly was when I met her,” he agreed.

    I turned to look at him. “You got to meet her?”

    “Well,” he hedged. “‘Met’ is perhaps a strong word, milady,” he admitted. “I spoke with her briefly on the day she passed, a little more than a quarter-century ago. All the Nobles and High Nobles of our people were present, as well as any others who could come.” His eyes sparkled as he remembered. “She did not think that she would recur. It was a…somber day. We had believed that a great legacy of our people was coming to a close.” He smiled at me, eyes twinkling. “But that legacy is not yet gone!”

    I fidgeted uncomfortably. “E-heh,” I laughed nervously. I had heard a similar refrain from just about every Mauna I’d met. But I didn’t feel like the keeper of that great legacy, like the next great Guardian at the Watchtower, I felt like a girl who was hopelessly out of her depth. “Yeah, about that. Don’t get your hopes up just yet…”

    “I have not yet found a reason to doubt it!” Abraxas lay down next to me, bringing his head down to my level. He leaned in and touched his nose to mine briefly; a gentle, reassuring gesture. “I have not known you long, but I have already seen that you possess strength, and intelligence, and kindness. And though it was only briefly, I saw those same virtues in the Lady Kyrala, too.” He smiled, his copper-colored eyes twinkling, their inner light shining through briefly.

    “I thought I didn’t have to follow the same path as my Predecessor?” I challenged playfully, his gentle strength and calm surety finally starting to melt through my nervous anxiety.

    “You do not,” he confirmed. “I was simply observing those similarities I can already see between you and the Lady. And I am sure you will find many more, in time. And if the Lady Kyrala has blessed your name, then she has said that she would be proud to be thought of alongside the one who will bear it.”

    I nodded, reflecting thoughtfully. That was a big thing that all of Dallan’s books and scrolls had emphasized, the tradition that our Predecessor give their blessing to our new name before we announce it to our brothers and sisters. It was supposed to be a way to thank them for what they had done for us, the strength and power they were passing on to us, to acknowledge the past as we moved towards the future.

    But I hadn’t considered it from Kyrala’s perspective; my name was going to be linked to hers for basically ever. I was still getting used to the concept of having past lives, and especially the fact that I could talk with them while still being them, but it gave me some comfort to think that Kyrala blessing my name was her way of telling me that she thought I could eventually be as great as she was. It was still hard to talk to her—she was so perfect, so…lofty, that I didn’t really know how to connect. But maybe this was a start.

    “Thanks,” I said. “You know, for explaining it all to me.”

    “That is my job, milady,” Abraxas smiled.

    I turned to look at the giant arch that led to the chamber, considering some more. There was still one question that had been nagging at me for a while. “So…is her body actually going to burn? Obviously I’m still new at this, but if she spent all her time fighting dark gods on the edge of the universe, I’d have to think she’d be at least as fireproof as I am, right?”

    “And she was, in life,” Abraxas agreed. “I would think that she was as close to invincible as it is possible to be.” He looked towards the arch once again, then back at me. “But what is in there is not Kyrala. It is simply a body. Everything that made that body special is now right here!” He leaned down and tapped his muzzle against my cheek.

    “Thanks, Mister Abraxas,” I said sheepishly. “Lord, sorry, Lord Abraxas.”

    “That is my job, milady,” he said again, smiling.

    He glanced up, standing again. Just as he did, new clicking echoes filled the great hall, and a figure emerged through the arch, coming towards us. It was Lord Dallan, sliding gracefully through the rows of statues. Dallan was probably the longest Mauna I had met so far—near thirty feet from nose to tip of tail—but he was also probably the lightest, taking into account how slim and streamlined he was. His sunset-orange scales were small and tightly-interlocked, and with the exception of a small plume of grey fur just behind his short horns, he had no crest, fuzzy, spiky, or otherwise.

    “It is time,” he announced as he approached. He walked past us then circled around, angling to herd us toward the arch and into the great chamber beyond. His voice was naturally loud and sharp, like the crack of a bullwhip or the snap of thunder, and he spoke with a perfect Oxford accent.

    I started moving as he did so, but Abraxas stood his ground, looking Dallan pointedly in the eye.

    “Yes, yes, alright, Lord Abraxas,” Dallan conceded, coming to a halt. “My Lady, do you feel you are prepared to begin?”

    I had to resist giving a very un-Ladylike snort at the look on Abraxas’s face, but I nodded with as much nobility as I could muster. Dallan would appreciate it. “Y-Yes. I’m ready. As I’ll ever be, at least.”

    At my confirmation, Abraxas smiled and flicked his head toward the arch, turning to join me. “Was that so hard, Dallan?” He asked, amusement evident in his voice.

    “I had assumed you already had this discussion with her, and that repeating it was unwarranted,” he replied, moving to follow.

    “Ah, Dallan, it is only a little effort more to be polite!” Abraxas admonished, chuckling to himself.

    Dallan sighed. “You are right, of course,” he admitted. “My apologies for my abruptness, My Lady.”

    “It’s no trouble,” I called over my shoulder, trying my best to be diplomatic and…noble, I guess. “I can understand your position.”

    We approached the archway, and I could hear the murmur of the assembled crowd in the temple proper just beyond. The flickering light of the torches reached us, but I couldn’t help notice that there were some colors there that didn’t belong in fire. The three of us stopped just short of the door, near an old wooden chest.

    Abraxas approached it, sitting back on his haunches to undo the latches and lift open the top. Inside were several pieces of fabric, folded with exacting care and stored neatly in little folding cubbies inside the lid. Most were a rich, dark blue, but the one in the exact center, which Abraxas removed, was a beautiful shade of deep violet. He turned to me, throwing it over my shoulders. It was a long cape, with an ornate silver and gold clasp that he affixed around my neck.

    When he was done, I arched my neck back, looking. The color was beautiful, but it clashed somewhat with my bright, ruby-colored scales. The cape covered the whole of my back and about a quarter of my tail, and it shifted as I moved, somehow keeping itself centered and not slipping down either side. “Can I make one request?” I asked. “Can we leave off the cloak? It feels a little…silly.”

    Dallan opened his mouth to speak, but Abraxas cut him off. “It is an honor to wear, milady,” he assured me. “I have been told that the Lady Falia wore this very one for her Naming.”

    “Falia?”

    He smiled at me, adjusting the clasp slightly. “The Lady Kyrala’s Predecessor.”

    I stared. “Kyrala’s…holy s—t, how old is this thing?”

    “Nearly one hundred and fifty centuries,” he said, confirming what I had been thinking.

    How is this not dust?” I wondered incredulously. “I mean, I don’t care how good hand-made fabrics are, fifteen thousand years…the moth damage alone…”

    “It is preserved through Craft,” Abraxas explained, stepping back and returning to four feet. “It is typically worn by the warden of the temple, but she agreed that for this ceremony, it would be better served worn by you.”

    “Right,” I muttered. “Magic. So I guess that’s a ‘no’ on dropping the cloak, then?”

    As I did, the aforementioned warden of the temple came out of the chamber to join us. “I have everything in place. Are we ready to begin?”

    My heart did a little flutter. Which I’m sure was just nerves for the ceremony.

    Lady Sarin’ii, the warden of the temple and the current Craft-Master, was a…sight…to see. Her scales were a lovely amber color, her eyes a couple shades lighter and flecked with a dazzling goldenrod. But her most notable feature was her wings. Out of all the Mauna I had met, she was the only one who had wings, and unlike what I would have expected, they were elegant and feathered, her plumes a lustrous, glossy brown. Her crest was also made of feathers, instead of the usual fur, and it tapered off at the base of her tail, which was capped with a broad fan of feathers rather than the typical brush of fur.

    Her horns were swept back, and although they were small, they had nearly a dozen graceful branches each. Like Abraxas, her claws, teeth, and the tips of her horns were colored a dark, dusty grey, and she walked like he did, claws carefully pulled back so they didn’t scrape the ground. I had noticed early after my Hatching that my claws were resistant to chipping or dulling, but those grey claws…they cut straight through just about everything.

    I had met Lady Sarin’ii at the tower a couple weeks ago, when my people had first found me. All the High Nobles and a smattering of the Nobles had been there. I had noticed Sarin’ii’s…”appreciable” features right away, and if I hadn’t been confused and nervous about the proceedings that day, I’m sure I would have said something incredibly embarrassing to the both of us. I didn’t know what the rules were for dating and romance amongst our people (supposedly we were all brothers and sisters, at least spiritually), but it hadn’t really been the best time to ask.

    Now wasn’t really the best time, either. I fidgeted as she approached, pretending I was concerned with the drape of the cloak so I could avoid looking at her directly. “Yeah,” I said. “I think I’ve got it all memorized.” I stole a quick glance at her. “I’m sorry I’m wearing your cloak…”

    She smiled. “There’s nothing to apologize for, My Lady. It was my idea, after all!” Her voice was rich, deep and sultry, her words tinged with the barest hint of a British accent. It did not help my awkwardness. “Lords Dallan and Abraxas had forgotten its history. I personally consider it your cloak—the most important thing it’s been used for is the Naming of your two previous lives. And yours now, as well!”

    She went over to the chest, taking out a second cloak, this one of a very deep blue, throwing it over her shoulders and affixing the clasp. “It will be acolyte indigo for me today, it appears!” The delicate metal snapped in her razor claws, and she sighed. “And of course, this clasp has not been reinforced. Acolyte Sesseri is Fire-aspected and had no need for it…” She closed her eyes momentarily, tapping the broken emblem with the back of a claw, like a musician trying to find a beat. After a few seconds she gave a more definitive tap and there was a sizzling sound as the sheared pieces fused together once again. A faint, tingling sensation shivered through my whiskers as it happened. What the…? Had I just sensed her magic?

    “Yes, My Lady,” Sarin’ii nodded. “Our whiskers are capable of sensing Craft as it’s worked. Using the Second Sight is almost always preferable, for accuracy and precision, but it can be useful, at times.”

    “I thought they only sensed electricity!” I exclaimed, lifting my whiskers so I could see then. “These things are really neat! …Wait…” I paused, looking at her as she put together another spell aimed at the clasp. “Are you…in my head?”

    “Not yours, specifically,” she answered, finishing her work and settling back onto her talons. “But I have always excelled at the divine skill of Mind, so I can usually know the thoughts and feelings of those around me.”

    “Oh…good…” The ceremony probably wouldn’t be necessary, I decided. I was going to die of embarrassment right there. Behind me, Abraxas chuckled to himself.

    “Well, our people are gathered, there is little reason to wait,” Sarin’ii prompted. “My Lords?”

    “Indeed,” Dallan agreed. He and Abraxas moved past me into the chamber; Abraxas gave me a brief, reassuring smile as he went by. As soon as they emerged, the general susurrus of the gathered crowd ceased instantly, the hush excited yet reverent at the same time.

    Sarin’ii gave them a moment to reach their places. “You’ll do wonderfully, My Lady, I have no doubts,” she encouraged. “I look forward to being properly introduced!” She bumped my side affectionately with one of her wings, then made her own way into the chamber beyond.

    I stood just inside the arch, watching the flickering light from the unnaturally-colored fire and listening. According to Abraxas, near every single Mauna was here tonight, to see me announce my name. Close to twenty-eight hundred semi-divine super-beings, all looking at me like I was some kind of goddess. No pressure, obviously. And yet, they were near perfectly silent. I had never seen a single crowd that size be so quiet—it was somewhat unnerving. I knew that our people were capable of incredible focus and discipline, but still…

    “My brothers and sisters,” Sarin’ii began, the first words of the ritual. Originally it was supposed to be conducted in our ancestral language, Umauni, but now it was performed in the native language of the hatchling being named. Which was good, because what little I’d seen of Umauni in Dallan’s library did not make it seem particularly enjoyable to learn. “Once again we find ourselves gathered together, in this sacred place. And tonight, our gathering is a joyous one—we have come together to celebrate the return of one of our sisters and welcome her back into the world.”

    She paused for a moment, and I could imagine her looking around at the people gathered in the enormous coliseum. “No matter the aeons of study we have devote to them, the mysteries of recurrence continue to inspiring in us wonder and reverence. And for each new certainty, we are shown that there are many, many more secrets that we may never truly understand. So tonight, as we rejoice that a Spark we thought extinguished is returned to us, we should take a brief moment to reflect on the nature of our duty, and joy that through our continued devotion, the miraculous beauty of our Jewel might endure.”

    As she continued, I shifted uneasily on my claws. I knew all the words, I knew the meaning behind them; I could have recited everything along with her, I had read it through that much. But what could possibly prepare me for walking out on stage in front of thousands of dragons? That’s not really something you can practice, especially because this was probably the first time that many were gathered in one place in centuries.

    I needed to see it.

    I needed to see it, to know, before I went out and had to speak in front of them. Thankfully, being Kyrala’s Inheritor came with many perks in addition to the crippling responsibility of protecting the lives of literally everyone. I might have only been four months’ Hatched, but I could already sling a couple of the divine skills as well as most who were two years or more past their Hatching. I focused, feeling my Spark shift sneakily, as I engaged the skill Trickery, wrapping myself in a veil that caused me to all but disappear.

    Once I was as close to invisible as I could be, I reached deeper, bolstering the glamour with a surge of my own inner power so that my attention could be free for other things. Then, suitably hidden, I crept forward towards the arch. I kept to the shadows, and tried to be as inconspicuous as I could—just because I was nearly invisible didn’t mean that some of the Mauna out there weren’t able to see through my trick. I craned my neck, peering carefully out at the enormous stadium beyond. And my jaw dropped.

    I had seen it before, when it was empty—it was much like a theater, with a large semicircular stage in the middle, and an enormous fan of seating radiating up and out away from it, although much larger than any human theater I’d ever seen. It also didn’t have seats, but rather the thirty seven massive tiered rows that staggered their way up the incline were open, fronted with ornate stone banisters.

    But that on top of that recognizable backdrop, everything had changed. The rows were filled with attendees, staring with rapt attention. While the rows…

    *******
    WRITER’S BLOCK WARNING
    WRITER’S BLOCK WARNING
    *******


    Now came the part that deviated from the traditional rite. “As we all know, it was with heavy souls that we gathered here twenty-five years ago, to say farewell to our sister Kyrala, and provide her comfort and solace as she passed onward to the great infinity. And in those final moments, surrounded by the brothers and sisters with whom she served, she chose, not to set aside her burden and ascend to that which comes next, but to brave the cold darkness of extinguishment, and in so doing, provide us with what chance she could that our people’s true legacy might continue, even if only for one last cycle.

    “That no one could possibly be more deserving to take their rest in the eternal beyond was not a consideration that was given. It was her duty, to her DIVINE, and to us, her people, that drove her to bare her Spark to the void in one final, treacherous spin through the gauntlet of death towards the exaltation of life anew. Not one of us dared hope that our Jewel might ever again be so blessed as to see her born into this life once more.”

    I could hear the smile in Sarin’ii’s voice as she continued, her words building to a triumphant crescendo. “But through the grace of the DIVINE, our sister, our great Guardian, is returned to us once more!”

    *******
    WRITER’S BLOCK WARNING
    WRITER’S BLOCK WARNING
    *******


    I lay on a large, flat rock that jutted out from the mountain, watching the sun rise slowly over the rolling foothills and misty jungles that stretched off to the east. My first day with my new name. Virial. My name was Virial. Inside, I felt…cozy. Complete. As if some intangible part of me that I hadn’t known I was missing had finally clicked into place. I smiled to myself. It was an echo of the feeling I’d had at the moment of my Hatching, knowing that I was finally put together properly.

    I watched the sunrise a little more, then lowered my gaze to the large, shimmering scale in my hands. I turned it over in my talons a couple of times, studying it, watching the light of the young day sparkle and dance over its surface. At just the right angle, the ghost of a deeper, dazzling radiance rippled across its surface, the diamond-like brilliance I knew from my memories captured for tiny instants.

    I heard movement behind me; I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Abraxas padded over, laying down beside me, his massive talons hanging off the edge of our rock. For a long time, we said nothing, simply existing in each other’s presence. I was the one to break the silence. “Thanks,” I said, the warm feeling inside me coming out in my voice. “For all your advice.”

    “That is my job, Lady Virial,” he smiled.

    I laughed softly, watching as the sun finished rising above the canopy. “You were absolutely right about how it feels. After.” I looked back at the scale. “It’s like…” In my mind I looked back on the past several months, back to when I had been scared and confused, lying in a tiny bathroom in some random club. “It’s like my name’s been Virial this whole time, and it seems so odd that there was ever a point that I didn’t know it.” I looked up at him, meeting his warm, coppery eyes with my own ruby ones. “You know?”

    “Yes, Lady Virial,” he said warmly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

    After a moment I waved the scale vaguely. “I hope Dallan isn’t getting too bent out of shape about this,” I said, somewhat sheepishly. “I…I dunno, it felt right. Like, I needed something of hers to stay connected. Old and new together…”

    Abraxas nodded as I spoke, the soft, deep chuckle that always seemed to be near the surface rumbling as I mentioned Dallan. “Lord Dallan was somewhat upset by the deviation, yes,” he admitted. “But Lady Sarin’ii and I have convinced him that it was for the best. And I reminded him that his own Naming was far from traditional!”

    He held out his hand, and I passed Kyrala’s scale to him. He looked it over, turning it slowly in his talons as I had. “Hmm,” he mused. “It still has a bit of her shine to it.” He offered it back. “I think it was an excellent choice!”

    “Thanks, Brax!” I beamed. Then I flinched. “I—sorry! Lord Abraxas. Sorry sorry, I hope you don’t mind…”

    He chuckled again. “I do not mind at all,” he assured me. “Lady Vi!”

    We shared another quiet laugh, and then turned together towards the light of the new day.
    Last edited by Absol197; 2017-01-04 at 12:32 AM.
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  22. - Top - End - #22
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    I just came across this thread and enjoy the narrative so far. I am trying to follow it in order of chronological events with in the story line but there doesn't seem to be much of a legend. Can you suggest a reading order?

    I just finished Lost & Found II, following the order in the original post, but started with Naming. The original post indicates Flying lessons is next but that seems to take place a while after the events in Naming.

    Thanks

  23. - Top - End - #23
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Quote Originally Posted by SonO'Wolf View Post
    I just came across this thread and enjoy the narrative so far. I am trying to follow it in order of chronological events with in the story line but there doesn't seem to be much of a legend. Can you suggest a reading order?

    I just finished Lost & Found II, following the order in the original post, but started with Naming. The original post indicates Flying lessons is next but that seems to take place a while after the events in Naming.

    Thanks
    Certainly. With the currently complete scenes, the chronological order is:

    0) Mauna Primer;
    1) Hatching;
    2) Talking it Through;
    3) Lost and Found;
    4) Naming;

    * Skip of about 1.5 years *

    5) Flying Lessons;
    6) Virial and Kyrala;
    7) Day Off;

    * Skip of about 2 years *

    8) Reunion;

    * Skip of about 8 years *

    9x) Homecoming;

    * Skip of about 13 years *

    10) Fallen;
    11) Postlude.

    As mentioned, the events of Homecoming are not technically canon, though the information in it is.

    Sorry about the long time skips near the end. If there's any particular scene you can think of you'd like to see, let me know and I'll see about adding it to the collection! As I've mentioned before, I write best for an audience, so if there's some question you have about the world or a scene or event you want to see, ask and I'll try to provide!

    EDIT: I went and added it all to the first post, with post reference numbers, to boot!
    Last edited by Absol197; 2017-01-05 at 08:01 PM.
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  24. - Top - End - #24
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    Okay, come on, SonO'Wolf! You can't just read it and then not give me comments or feedback, that's just rude !

    Also, a bit of an update on where I'm goinng with this piece! Ive decided I'm going to try and make it into an actual novel, most likely a triogy, bbut possibly a longer series, because what I've written already covers ~22 years of Vi's life. I will keep updating additional scenes, though, and I've got one in the works that I really like, dealing with a particularly difficult enemy the Mauna have been dealing with for a long time...

    Also, a friend of mine (the one who convinced me to attempt and fail at NaNoWriMo this year ) and I have been doing a collaborative project - both of our NNWM works involved supernatura elements: mine obviously dragons, and hers elves. We've combined the to worlds, so her Eladrin and my Mauna are in conflict, and the main character of our crossover is a young Eladrin of the Winter Court who discovers that she is actually a Mauna! Its been a lot of fun, so I will also be posting scenes of this work, "Ryn's Story" (also a working title) here as well!

    To get us started, here is the Elarin version of the "Mauna Primer":

    "A Discourse on the Eladrin"
    Spoiler
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    Greetings, human. You are most fortunate to have this opportunity to speak directly to an Eladrin, though you may find this fortune dearly-bought. We have lived in this world longer than you, of course, so much longer that even our histories that record your descent from the trees do not record our beginning. For context, however, as I recall, there are particularly dense humans who are under the mistaken belief that your species existed in the age of dinosaurs tens of millions of years ago. The remains that they have found however, are not human, they are Eladrin.

    Our association, though secret, has lasted for so long, from the days in which your terrified hutch-dwelling ancestors told hushed stories of us stealing your children and taking them into our wilds to be ours forever, to the modern day when you distract yourselves from your lives of empty labor by conjuring fantasies of us in our power and majesty. Some of those imaginings do have an element of truth—we have our Courts and what you would call magic, though our Power is simply the result of our manipulation of ambient fields, one of many domains in which our craft exceeds yours.

    We Eladrin are divided into two Courts, Winter and Summer, and two Hunts, Autumn and Spring. Some humans who have had the opportunity to visit either Court, have come away with the impression that Summer is a home of eternal revelry and endless delights, while the Eladrin of Winter are cruel and capricious. This is, however, a misconception of the highest order. But you humans are nothing if not easily fooled by even the simplest of glamour that conceals us from your sight, so perhaps their failure to understand us is only natural, pathetic though it be.

    It is true that Winter can be cruel, but that is because we have embraced the virtue of strength above all else, shunning frivolous emotions that would stand in the way of our achievement. We spent millennia in the Feyland, a place where all interaction among creatures are ruled by the principle of equivalent exchange. In Winter, there are no sentimental bonds, only the exchange of favor and interest. Perhaps you think this cruel, but it is fundamentally honest, there is nothing which masks the principle of self-interest that governs all society. We devote our millennium-long lives to the pursuit of self-perfection, excellence in music, combat, craft, and Power, particularly the manipulation of the perfect and ordered beauty of ice. Of course, total perfection is a harrowing pursuit, even for the most stoic of us, and so we have used our Power to help us along on the road to perfection, creating phylacteries to store our fears, our compassion, and our grief, so that they not impede us.

    Unlike our cosmopolitan Summer cousins, we maintain our old traditions apart from humanity, remembering the gift of our Nameless Queen, who saved us all from a great meter impact on the earth by building us a bridge to the Feyland at the cost of her own soul, holding us apart from the vagaries of your world. We have no truck with your spirits, or the DIVINE and its worm-slaves. Our Queen is always the strongest among us, and her dominion over weather in our land is absolute. Of course, I should perhaps refrain from flattering myself, for indeed I am none other than Ilexia II, Ruler of the Winter Court, and Sovereign of the Howling Frost. The honor, I assure you, is yours.

    Eladrin of a Court always have a Queen, and only one, no more and no less. She is, as I said, always the most skilled in Craft and Courtly intrigue. When she speaks her mighty decrees, they are imbued with subtle Power, such that her voice will always be heard whenever that decree is repeated, and there may be no doubt from whence it came. Queendom is not a mere title, as it is for your ephemeral human courts: one who is worthy of that highest honor is herself changed in the bestowing, so that her powers, always already formidable, are placed far beyond the scope of all her subjects. But Queendom is a dream far beyond most Eladrin, a lofty height they cannot reach. Even the Princesses, the small cadre of Eladrin of Royal Blood, always female (naturally), who possess the capability to become Queens when the old one dies. Her crowning is a biological process, a gift to smooth the passage of power from the Gentry, the great creatures that rule the Feyland.

    What is the Feyland? My dear, it is a world apart from this one, not easily entered nor easily departed. It is a land where everything is alive and everything has a price. You are perhaps familiar with the idea that plants require water to grow, yes? Consider a tree that requires a price in water for standing in its shade. Or a word that requires a price before you may speak it. In the Feyland, merely to live is to negotiate with powers that would make your simian blood run cold.

    But, my dear, I am sure that you have immediate concerns much nearer. Let us discuss the Summer Court instead; perhaps you would find their frolicking more congenial to your delicate disposition, little one. I am sure they would love to have you a guest in their Court, and will help you forget all the little troubles and pains of your life. You would find yourself forgetting the days, the months and the years in endless delight, feasting, and dancing. Their lands are not so hard and cold as mine, all pleasant beaches and delightful warmth. Of course, that will only last so long, eventually they will get bored of you, and you will find that, for that great length of pleasure, your debt to them is so great that you will owe absolute service to them for the remainder of your days. You may also discover that in their sweet wine of forgetfulness lies another trap; all of the foolish mistakes you have made over your short life will be forgotten, ready for you to make them again, you are nothing but a toy to them, to be discarded at a whim.

    You wish to know of the Hunts? How do you think you have come before me, O foolish child? Autumn and its huntresses delight in the blood sport of the hunt, and in honing the weapons of war. Wherever you find humans in conflict, you will find the Hunts pulling the strings, offering their services to the highest bidder, and shaping the conflict to fit their design. Their agents move flawlessly among humanity, and are particularly adept at seeking out your many, many weaknesses. The warriors of the Hunt have devised many cruel weapons of war, and some very useful toys to put you humans to proper use. For instance, this delightful tool here is a dead steel knife, a relic from the forges of the Feyland. It has by now absorbed a bit of your spirit from the blood I took from you earlier. This, of course, makes it hungry for more, so I would suggest you do as I command without pointless resistance, and cease that atrociously pathetic mewling. It is not as though anyone will be coming to help you. And even if they did, my own Power is more than sufficient to ensure that they would meet a slow, painful demise.

    What, did you really think that the friendship of the vintner of the Summer Court would help you here? Summer's reach may be long, but we are in my very Court itself, upon that land that you profane with your tongue and call Ireland. But I am sure she will be very grateful; Summer wine is made sweet by human suffering, and I can assure you that the next few days will make for her quite a delicacy. You see, your disgusting half-breed mate has my phylactery, and I fully intend to make her pay for her insolence. I saw you sneering through my discussion of the many benefits of phylacteries, but you will soon have a clear demonstration of exactly how powerful one can be when all distractions are removed...

    [Credit to Selpharia, my crossover collaboration partner, for writing this piece!]
    Last edited by Absol197; 2017-01-16 at 01:43 PM.
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  25. - Top - End - #25
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    I kinda see what you mean about Homecoming. There isn't a lot of Chrissy in Vi in this scene, and I'm not sure being Chrissy is something you necessarily want for her, but the emotional connection to her family struggles without it. Vi's family doesn't have enough initiative to surprise her--often it feels like she's performing both sides of the conversation. Without Brax or Tam around to puncture Vi's ego, she feels gratuitously perfect, and it doesn't help that the degree of emotional control she explicitly exerts makes it hard to trust the humanizing emotions she displays, the tears and such. The scene gets crowded with lots of family members and lots of exposition (some of which is undoubtedly repetitive since readers have already been through this revelation themselves), and it's hard to feel any impact on Vi or on her family.

    That last is only natural if it's non-canon, though--the buildup to this event isn't written into Vi's past, and the consequences of it aren't written into her future, so it's difficult to make the scene matter.

    I'll catch up with the rest another time.

  26. - Top - End - #26
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    Hey look! Leth is back! Hi, Leth !

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    I kinda see what you mean about Homecoming. There isn't a lot of Chrissy in Vi in this scene, and I'm not sure being Chrissy is something you necessarily want for her, but the emotional connection to her family struggles without it. Vi's family doesn't have enough initiative to surprise her--often it feels like she's performing both sides of the conversation. Without Brax or Tam around to puncture Vi's ego, she feels gratuitously perfect, and it doesn't help that the degree of emotional control she explicitly exerts makes it hard to trust the humanizing emotions she displays, the tears and such.
    Yeah, that's kinda it. Part of that is the time period in her life that this is set in - at this point, she's just got so much power that she is very hard to surprise or rattle, and she's so perceptive on so many different levels that mere mortals aren't really a challenge for her in any respect. That's why there's such a large gap between Reunion and Fallen - she grows so strong that that portion of her life just becomes less interesting to write or read about.

    I do want her to be "Chrissy," in the sense that she's the same person who grew up with this family, just with a Universe-load of more responsibility on her shoulders. That sort of thing changes someone, no matter what you do. She still makes bad jokes, she still pranks big brother, this is still her family, but...bah, I guess it just didn't work like I was hoping it might. Oh, well, that happens!

    There is a canon version of this scene that's been percolating in my brain for a bit; Vi is handling some issue with her Manhattan spirit portal, making sure it's Disaster-Ready, and then as she flies North to check on something else, she ends up flying over her old family home on Christmas Eve. Essentially, referencing your critiques, she "surprises" herself by making the visit unplanned, her family is asleep so they're not crowding the scene asking questions to which the reader already knows the answer, and we can explore Vi's emotions honestly without her "getting in the way" by keeping them all in her head as she looks over what she's missed and what she's missing out on.

    Basically, force her to do it when she's not planning it and so isn't prepared, and make her "opponents" not her actual family, but the demons she's left them and hidden within herself. Thoughts on if you think that would be better?

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    The scene gets crowded with lots of family members and lots of exposition (some of which is undoubtedly repetitive since readers have already been through this revelation themselves), and it's hard to feel any impact on Vi or on her family.

    That last is only natural if it's non-canon, though--the buildup to this event isn't written into Vi's past, and the consequences of it aren't written into her future, so it's difficult to make the scene matter.
    Yeah, I struggled with that, too. There are six adult characters and (effectively) two kids, and most of them are present throughout. The in-laws it was easy to shuffle to the background, but the rest...I know what you mean about it being crowded, I felt crowded myself writing it ! And yes, it's basically a repeat of the information people would have already had, so...yeah, once again, I'm thinking of writing a "canon" version of this, where she doesn't actually see them and has to reconcile everything just to herself, which would be much harder to do.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lethologica View Post
    I'll catch up with the rest another time.
    Sure, I'd appreciate it . I don't know if you've read "Talking it Through" or "Lost and Found" yet, but I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts. And those on the piece of crud that is "Naming." I'm still beating my head against a wall on that one, and I have no idea why...
    Last edited by Absol197; 2017-01-09 at 03:55 PM.
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  27. - Top - End - #27
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    Default Re: I Did Some Writing! It Has Dragons! Wanna See?

    A tense little excerpt from the next scene :) . I'm hoping to have this full scene done soon, but we all know how that goes...

    This takes place only a couple of months after Reunion...

    Spoiler
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    “I don’t like it, Brax,” I informed him, looking around at the location. His tracking working had led us to a construction site just outside the city – a large pit was dug in the middle of the plot, mounds of dirt, piles of piping and steel girders, and an orderly row of earthmovers and a pair of cement mixers dotting the area.

    “This place just screams ‘trap.’” I glanced at the nearby buildings—far from the ancient city center, a much more modern aesthetic was beginning to take hold, and several tall towers rose up not far away.

    “I agree, this is not the kind of location Ouroboros prefers.” Brax was looking around, too, and I could feel his concern. He was clued into something I hadn’t picked up on yet. But he didn’t voice it, instead continuing his current thought. “Perhaps that is the point, choosing a location so different from his norm that we might pass it by.”

    I waited a pregnant moment before I couldn’t take it any more. “Okay, come on Brax, what the hell is bothering you? There’s something else you’re not saying, I can tell.”

    He nodded. “There is an unusual touch of Craft here. Not worked by Ouroboros, most certainly, and not in the style of Master Danmorio.” He stole a brief second to smile at me. “I was waiting until you realized you should utilize your Sight to check the area for metaphysical threats. You do believe it is a trap, yes? And Ouroboros would be the one to set it?”

    “Right, duh. That would probably be smart, wouldn’t it?” I shook my head. Spending the entire afternoon using my Sight had been exhausting, and I’d fallen right back into old, bad habits—Brax does the Craft, I kick the ass. But I couldn’t afford to think that way any longer, for multiple reasons. I approached the edge of the pit cautiously, unfolding my perceptions once again. Even with my relative inexperience, it didn’t take me long to see what he meant.

    I frowned. “What the hell kind of working is—”

    The only warning I had was a split second of Brax’s alarm, before there was a thudding sound of impact and he was thrown forward to tumble down into the pit. My own instincts were only an instant behind, but it wasn’t quite fast enough. The cracking report of the first gunshot reached my ears the same moment that my entire world exploded into searing pain.

    The world went red; I was vaguely aware of flopping down the slope and crashing to a stop at the bottom, but the majority of my attention was focused on the fact I had been shot. I could feel the way my energy flow had been disrupted, and my rational mind was numbly cataloguing the damage while my emotional side screamed like an idiot. I had a fairly large hole in my back, through my shoulder-blade and angling down into my lung. The shot had just missed both my spine and my heart—my Balance saving my bacon once again—but said lung was now punctured and collapsed, blood rushing in to fill it, the bullet still inside.

    Thankfully, I was still alive, which meant my Healing was already rushing to repair me. I tried to gather the focus necessary to help it along, to direct it to the more critical areas and away from the superficial ones, but I couldn’t quite do it. So I lay there, my face in the dirt, blood spilling out of me. Each ragged breath I took was agony—my healing was repairing my lung tissue, scarring over the broken area to prevent further blood from getting in. But while scar tissue is great for preventing bleeding, it’s not really designed to stretch, so every breath saw that scar rip open anew, sending another wave of knife-like pain through me. I coughed, weakly, trying to clear the hot viscous fluid from my airways. I had little success, other than at finding a new way to make myself hurt even more.

    “Lady Vi!” Through the cloud of pain, I heard Brax’s concerned call, and felt it as he tried to rush to my side.

    Another gunshot, this one much closer, rang out, and Brax stopped moving. Large caliber rifle, I noted absently. New crunching footsteps emerged, walking quickly but cautiously nearer.
    Last edited by Absol197; 2017-01-31 at 02:33 PM.
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