Shippingitp IV: Flattery Will Get You EVERYWHERE

[CurlyKitGirl]

And now I've gone and edited all the right word references into each story so it doesn't merely go straight to the currecnt word of the day.

[Dragonrider]

To be honest, I did whine a little bit about Dirk's Busty-B fic where I was pictured ordering an alcoholic drink, despite my listing in shipping permissions that I'm a teetotaler. Since that ship has sailed, though, I don't really care about it anymore so long as everyone understands that, in RL, I don't drink alcohol. Thanatos5150 and I have remarkably similar views in this regard...

Yeah...I don't drink and never will...admittedly I'm not legally old enough to do so in any case, but.....


@Curly: I love it when you use words I haven't heard before!

[Dallas-Dakota]

For the record, I do really feel bad about the D-D thing. I had no idea he would find that so offensive or I would never have written it like that.

*drops in*
No I didn't, I just took it very bad because of a long tiring and very bad day, I just did at that time, but I'm all fine with it now, though I'm not coming back.
So don't feel bad out it.
*drops out*

[Destro_Yersul]

Hmmmmmmmm, that puts me in a pickle, I don't really know much about Raistlin or Destro (As characters anyway).

Well, just to give you a hand...

Raistlin is the musician type. Songwriter, singer, player of instruments, that sort of thing. Other than that, I don't know much.

Destro is (usually) a lich. Nice enough guy, if a little odd, and generally pretty awkward. As TwoBit proves, however, usual characterizations mean almost nothing here. In a series of his which I happen to be rather fond of, Destro is a dashing pirate.

[CurlyKitGirl]

@Curly: I love it when you use words I haven't heard before!

Luck of the draw; but I love that word now I know of it.
*is busy with a Cristo work*

[Inigo Montoya]

*shakes off vaction* Here's the new letter. Based on the Great Northern War

Letter 5: The Rise (ZP/LexCat)

Spoiler

Show

The letter had arrived in the middle of the night, and Lex had to exerise most of her self-control in order not to read it right then and there. When she woke up that morning, she ripped it open. It was written quickly, and there were smudges of ink across the page.
Dearest Lex,
Tomorrow I go to battle against the Swedes. I hope to deal them a defeat but that is in God's hands.
The letter ended there, and if he had been interupted, and sent the letter off anyway. Lex's head filled with thoughts. What if he had been captured? What if he was dead? She paced her room and prayed for her beloved.
---------------------------------------------------------------
At the same time, Zar sat down in his tent, and looked at his general.

Tell again what happend. He said.

Genearl Haruki cleared his throat and began to speak.
Well sire, the battle started at around 3:45 this morning. The Swedes started to press forward, and we lost two forward command posts. However, as the sun began to rise we started to take control of the battlefield. By noon it was over.

How many dead? Zar asked, not daring to believe it.

Among our men? At least four thousand killed our wounded. Among the Swedes? At least...ten thousand. There are also stories going around that king has fled to the Turks as well...

Zar ignored that last one. Stories were bound to fly after a battle like this. But ten thousand men dead...Even if that was an exageration, that was more then half the Swedish army.
Do you know what this means Haruki?

Haruki looked at his king.
What mi'lord?

It means that today the Russian Empire has been born.

[Fredthefighter]

Thanks Destro I'm gonna start writing it tomorrow.
And the title shall be: Those three words

[RabbitHoleLost]

Epiphany
Mordokai/RHL and, by special permission, RHL/Vael
With mentions/brief appearances of: Lex, Turtle, Flora, Jon (Twobi), Cristo, Destro

Spoiler

Show

Dearest
Hey, you stupid paladin
Dear Mordokai,

I hate you As long as I can remember, I've always been the way I am; cold, detached, solitary. I've always strived for independence.
I couldn't tell you what events in my life lead me to be the way I am. I've never been incredibly impressed with all of those crazy shrinks and their bottling up of people, labeling and stick a pin through them, like a butterfly collection. No, that's not true. That, again, is my cold calculating mind making up excuses for me.
I don't like to think someone can understand me. I don't like thinking that people know why I think things, why I take the actions I do. I don't want to be see-through, predictable.
I want to be something different.
Its not people I don't like, its my reactions to them, how I can feel completely vulnerable, like a glass right before it meets the marble floor and shatters.
Being close to people creates uneasy feelings for me.
My sister, Lex, Reinholdt, Jon, Destro.. and, most importantly quite probably more so, you, Mordokai; all of you, I can't help but feel bitter to because I love y care for you all, and it terrifies me.
This letter has strayed far from its intentions If you're still reading this, Mordokai, I'm sorry for the rambling. I'm sorry I have such trouble explaining what I'm thinking and feeling, and that its lead to so many problems for you. Then again, I've always been causing complication for you, haven't I?
I lov suppose this following bit might be more issues, more dilemmas, more problems. It might be hard to believe, what with the thousands of times I've tried to kill you dispose of your righteousness.
As it is, I love y feel I have to be honest with you, despite what may come of it. I want you to understand this little bit of me that I must share with you.
I lo
I love y
I lov
I love you. Despite the fact that I have fought against it in myself, have spat on my sister for feeling the same for you, despite that both my sister and Flora are far greater people than myself, and I cannot hope to compare to them in matters of beauty and the heart (of which, my own is dead and blackened), I ardently, passionately, fervidly, vehemently love you
Please don't hate me.

Rabbit didn't sign it. She couldn't bring herself to do it, glancing down at the parchment, deep scars of lines dragged through text she had regretted the moment it flowed from her unsteady hand. It read horribly; The necromancer never had had a way with words, written or spoken. She had though briefly (incredibly briefly) of asking Cristo for help, but the bard was too unruly. Rabbit could not imagine when his teasing would have ended..if he could manage to collect enough breath after double over with laughter.
With shaking hands, she folded the page in thirds, slipping one edge under the other, dripping the hot violently violet wax hesitantly. That was it, she thought as she pressed down her seal, the top-hatted skull appearing with its gruesome smile, as if to mock her.
It had been hastily written, probably hard to read and comprehend, but she had no time to read and reread and proofread and edit and re-write and recompose. It would never be written otherwise, doubt and fear working its way into her mind.
No, Rabbit simply had to go with what she had done, and, as she blew on the cooling seal, she smiled softly.
He wouldn't deny her, no. She had, afterall, given up everything for him just the day before, even if it had been unintentional.
Suiting up in her orange coat and purple hat, she managed to reapply her crimson smile, and set out into the warm sun, her mind playing along the memories of the previous day.

Such previous day was not sunny, nor warm nor dry, as Rabbit Vasque stared at the wooden door in her face, her mascara running down her high cheekbones with the splattering rain.
Did she really want this done? There would be no reversing it, no coming back. She would be stuck as she would be forever, like stone.
Of course she did.
Lifting a hand to know, Rabbit gasped in surprise as there was suddenly nothing but nothingness for her gloved knuckles to rasp against, her hazel eyes staring up into the white, blank visage of a mask, perfectly smooth and suitably disturbing.
"You are Rabbit."
The necromancer could barely manage a nod, the feminine voice instilling something of a deep-rooted terror in her.
The figure's arm rose, pale fingers splaying across the ceramic, pulling the mask away from the face behind. Rabbit's supposedly undead heart thumped against her ribcage, reverberating throughout her skull. It had to be something horrific, to be concealed behind such a thing.
A beautiful face, nordic in appearance with perfectly sculpted cheek bones and full lips, smiled encouragingly down to the shorter woman.
"Please, come in." Standing back, she allowed for Rabbit to step into her domain, and lead her down a hallway into a darkened room, where only two chairs, a small circular table, a candle and a glass ball could be found.
The two sat, and Rabbit found no words could come to her mind, let alone form along her tongue or be expelled upon her breath. The woman's chestnut hair seemed to dance along in unexistant wind, her eyes sparkling in imaginary light.
She was enthralling.
"Tell me what it is you want, my dear. Tell Vael what you would like from her."
Vael. Like a veil, secrecy, hidden.
"I-I..er.." Words...how did they work again? The air felt heavy upon Rabbit, thick, hard to breath in and out.
"You've nothing to fear. I won't bite you." Though it was unspoken, the silent unless you would like me to was evident in Vael's nearly predatory smile. It made Rabbit feel unclean, dirty...high, ecstatic. Combusting with energy, there was nowhere for her thoughts, suddenly so imposing, to go but out.
"I need you to cut out my heart. Stop it. Feed it to some cats, or send it to the underworld, anything. I can't stand it. I can't have it any longer, the troubles and complications. The pain and the agony. I don't want it any lon-" Her breath hitched as the miracle-worker's hand slid over her own, the coolness apparent even through the thick ivory silk of the necromancer's gloves. Vael was leaning forward, her words soft whispers, but so loud as if she were speaking directly into Rabbit's ear drums.
"And why, darling girl?
Why, indeed? With Vael so close (wasn't she atleast a foot further away just a few moments before? Had it been moments? Rabbit couldn't recall, couldn't compare time to time like this), she couldn't recall why she had wanted it gone. Trees, zombies, glinting silver of blades.
Complete loneliness, abandonment, craving, desire
"You've been so very good, little Rabbit, in all of your diabolical plots, haven't you? Avoided temptation so well..." The woman's hand was warm on Rabbit's cool cheek, though Rabbit couldn't recall when her hand had moved from her hand to her face. Time was elapsing as it did in a movie slowed to frame-by-frame continuation, small movements and moments eaten up without any evidence the once existed.
"You want someone, don't you?" Vael was now breathing softly in Rabbit's ear, warm breath brushing down from the side of her head to her neck, the sound of pounding rain beating against the house like a rampant heart beat. Or perhaps it was Rabbit's heart.
She was unsure of anything but the miracle worker.
Surprisingly, the necromancer managed to nod, and Vael pulled away, chuckling near silently.
"No, I don't think I shall cut your heart from you. Afterall, that is merely a metaphor. Your heart has nothing to do with your desires, your longings, your infatuations."
"B-but, you have t-"
Warm fingers pressed to Rabbit's lips, smudging her rouge, silencing her for just the moment as Vael leaned in close once more. Her lips hardly seemed to move, inspite of the words obviously coming from her. The woman's face was nearly scarier than the actual mask, so hard to read in its icy beauty.
"Oh, shush shush, little dear. I will help you, do not worry." The look of panicked terror melted from Rabbit's face, now hopeful.
"You will?"
"Yes." And with that, Vael pressed her lips against Rabbit's, the younger, smaller girl frozen in abject horror and splendid bliss. Warm was the kiss the magician placed on Rabbit, who soon succumbed.
And then the world turned in on itself.
Pain erupted along her spine, first, spreading to her chest and heart, catching fire in her veins. Agony blossomed in black blooms behind her eyelids, her back arching involuntarily into an unnatural bow. And still, Rabbit could not manage the breath to scream, nor even gasp.
The world exploded into darkness, and there was not a thing that existed besides the quiet chuckling of the dark beauty who had so easily broken her mind.
"Let us see, doll master, how it is on the other end of the mirror. The Hatter in Alice's world."

Rabbit had awoken the next morning to find something felt different, and, yet, nothing really was. In the end, she was determined.
And she was determined even as she took each step towards the location where she knew she would find him. Mordokai the Redeemer.
Quite probably in the forest, with his dryad Flora. Curled up in a near-domestic bliss, with lips pressed together intimately, limbs tangled passionately.
She would be interrupting, no doubt, but Rabbit could not imagine Mordokai objecting when she explained that she wasn't there to kill him or turn Flora, or burn the forest down. Indeed, she reasoned, she would simply hand him the letter with a soft, almost melancholic smile, and turn tail to simply wait at home for his response.
Perhaps her thoughts had been too occupied, her eyes focused on her feet as she walked with even steps, as she always traveled. Her father had once asked why she walked the way she did, as if she were ashamed. Rabbit had responded only with a smile and a shrug; there was nothing interesting in the world to her other than her own thoughts. And now that her thoughts involved a particular Paladin...
Well, maybe that was why it was the smell of burning wood, deep and rich, that called her to her attention before she saw the forest all aflame, a figure clad in dark armor watching, chained to a familar tree nymph, bleeding and in tears.
A state of emptiness is where one has no future, no past, no time. As Rabbit watched the figure of the fallen Paladin turn, her world was broken. Emptiness absorbed her, claimed her, took her for its own.
His eyes met hers, her soul shattered, her heart nothing but liquid misery. He took a step forward, smirked, and she took a step backwards, and then another and another until she finally dropped the paper in her hand and fled.
To anywhere. Away.
Back to Wonderland, she prayed to nothing, nobody. Even now, she was still alone. No gods to protect her.
So, when she showed up at the doorstep of her sister's home, bloody tears streaking down her face, she was perhaps even more taken aback than Turtle.
"Rabbit, what's wrong?"
Sobbing, Rabbit managed to mutter inbetween gasps for air.
"F-F-Flora needs our help."

[Lex-Kat]

And, hey, Lexy! I'm cuddly! Might be too sexy for cute, and not very nice, but I AM snuggleh!

Of course you are, Queen. *Cuddles and snuggles and huggles with, while purring*

Oh, and great story. very well written.

@ Inigo: Nice. I noticed you were missing. I started having withdrawals.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Epiphany
Mordokai/RHL and, by special permission, RHL/Vael
With mentions/brief appearances of: Lex, Turtle, Flora, Jon (Twobi), Cristo, Destro

Spoiler

Show

Dearest
Hey, you stupid paladin
Dear Mordokai,

I hate you As long as I can remember, I've always been the way I am; cold, detached, solitary. I've always strived for independence.
I couldn't tell you what events in my life lead me to be the way I am. I've never been incredibly impressed with all of those crazy shrinks and their bottling up of people, labeling and stick a pin through them, like a butterfly collection. No, that's not true. That, again, is my cold calculating mind making up excuses for me.
I don't like to think someone can understand me. I don't like thinking that people know why I think things, why I take the actions I do. I don't want to be see-through, predictable.
I want to be something different.
Its not people I don't like, its my reactions to them, how I can feel completely vulnerable, like a glass right before it meets the marble floor and shatters.
Being close to people creates uneasy feelings for me.
My sister, Lex, Reinholdt, Jon, Destro.. and, most importantly quite probably more so, you, Mordokai; all of you, I can't help but feel bitter to because I love y care for you all, and it terrifies me.
This letter has strayed far from its intentions If you're still reading this, Mordokai, I'm sorry for the rambling. I'm sorry I have such trouble explaining what I'm thinking and feeling, and that its lead to so many problems for you. Then again, I've always been causing complication for you, haven't I?
I lov suppose this following bit might be more issues, more dilemmas, more problems. It might be hard to believe, what with the thousands of times I've tried to kill you dispose of your righteousness.
As it is, I love y feel I have to be honest with you, despite what may come of it. I want you to understand this little bit of me that I must share with you.
I lo
I love y
I lov
I love you. Despite the fact that I have fought against it in myself, have spat on my sister for feeling the same for you, despite that both my sister and Flora are far greater people than myself, and I cannot hope to compare to them in matters of beauty and the heart (of which, my own is dead and blackened), I ardently, passionately, fervidly, vehemently love you
Please don't hate me.

Rabbit didn't sign it. She couldn't bring herself to do it, glancing down at the parchment, deep scars of lines dragged through text she had regretted the moment it flowed from her unsteady hand. It read horribly; The necromancer never had had a way with words, written or spoken. She had though briefly (incredibly briefly) of asking Cristo for help, but the bard was too unruly. Rabbit could not imagine when his teasing would have ended..if he could manage to collect enough breath after double over with laughter.
With shaking hands, she folded the page in thirds, slipping one edge under the other, dripping the hot violently violet wax hesitantly. That was it, she thought as she pressed down her seal, the top-hatted skull appearing with its gruesome smile, as if to mock her.
It had been hastily written, probably hard to read and comprehend, but she had no time to read and reread and proofread and edit and re-write and recompose. It would never be written otherwise, doubt and fear working its way into her mind.
No, Rabbit simply had to go with what she had done, and, as she blew on the cooling seal, she smiled softly.
He wouldn't deny her, no. She had, afterall, given up everything for him just the day before, even if it had been unintentional.
Suiting up in her orange coat and purple hat, she managed to reapply her crimson smile, and set out into the warm sun, her mind playing along the memories of the previous day.

Such previous day was not sunny, nor warm nor dry, as Rabbit Vasque stared at the wooden door in her face, her mascara running down her high cheekbones with the splattering rain.
Did she really want this done? There would be no reversing it, no coming back. She would be stuck as she would be forever, like stone.
Of course she did.
Lifting a hand to know, Rabbit gasped in surprise as there was suddenly nothing but nothingness for her gloved knuckles to rasp against, her hazel eyes staring up into the white, blank visage of a mask, perfectly smooth and suitably disturbing.
"You are Rabbit."
The necromancer could barely manage a nod, the feminine voice instilling something of a deep-rooted terror in her.
The figure's arm rose, pale fingers splaying across the ceramic, pulling the mask away from the face behind. Rabbit's supposedly undead heart thumped against her ribcage, reverberating throughout her skull. It had to be something horrific, to be concealed behind such a thing.
A beautiful face, nordic in appearance with perfectly sculpted cheek bones and full lips, smiled encouragingly down to the shorter woman.
"Please, come in." Standing back, she allowed for Rabbit to step into her domain, and lead her down a hallway into a darkened room, where only two chairs, a small circular table, a candle and a glass ball could be found.
The two sat, and Rabbit found no words could come to her mind, let alone form along her tongue or be expelled upon her breath. The woman's chestnut hair seemed to dance along in unexistant wind, her eyes sparkling in imaginary light.
She was enthralling.
"Tell me what it is you want, my dear. Tell Vael what you would like from her."
Vael. Like a veil, secrecy, hidden.
"I-I..er.." Words...how did they work again? The air felt heavy upon Rabbit, thick, hard to breath in and out.
"You've nothing to fear. I won't bite you." Though it was unspoken, the silent unless you would like me to was evident in Vael's nearly predatory smile. It made Rabbit feel unclean, dirty...high, ecstatic. Combusting with energy, there was nowhere for her thoughts, suddenly so imposing, to go but out.
"I need you to cut out my heart. Stop it. Feed it to some cats, or send it to the underworld, anything. I can't stand it. I can't have it any longer, the troubles and complications. The pain and the agony. I don't want it any lon-" Her breath hitched as the miracle-worker's hand slid over her own, the coolness apparent even through the thick ivory silk of the necromancer's gloves. Vael was leaning forward, her words soft whispers, but so loud as if she were speaking directly into Rabbit's ear drums.
"And why, darling girl?
Why, indeed? With Vael so close (wasn't she atleast a foot further away just a few moments before? Had it been moments? Rabbit couldn't recall, couldn't compare time to time like this), she couldn't recall why she had wanted it gone. Trees, zombies, glinting silver of blades.
Complete loneliness, abandonment, craving, desire
"You've been so very good, little Rabbit, in all of your diabolical plots, haven't you? Avoided temptation so well..." The woman's hand was warm on Rabbit's cool cheek, though Rabbit couldn't recall when her hand had moved from her hand to her face. Time was elapsing as it did in a movie slowed to frame-by-frame continuation, small movements and moments eaten up without any evidence the once existed.
"You want someone, don't you?" Vael was now breathing softly in Rabbit's ear, warm breath brushing down from the side of her head to her neck, the sound of pounding rain beating against the house like a rampant heart beat. Or perhaps it was Rabbit's heart.
She was unsure of anything but the miracle worker.
Surprisingly, the necromancer managed to nod, and Vael pulled away, chuckling near silently.
"No, I don't think I shall cut your heart from you. Afterall, that is merely a metaphor. Your heart has nothing to do with your desires, your longings, your infatuations."
"B-but, you have t-"
Warm fingers pressed to Rabbit's lips, smudging her rouge, silencing her for just the moment as Vael leaned in close once more. Her lips hardly seemed to move, inspite of the words obviously coming from her. The woman's face was nearly scarier than the actual mask, so hard to read in its icy beauty.
"Oh, shush shush, little dear. I will help you, do not worry." The look of panicked terror melted from Rabbit's face, now hopeful.
"You will?"
"Yes." And with that, Vael pressed her lips against Rabbit's, the younger, smaller girl frozen in abject horror and splendid bliss. Warm was the kiss the magician placed on Rabbit, who soon succumbed.
And then the world turned in on itself.
Pain erupted along her spine, first, spreading to her chest and heart, catching fire in her veins. Agony blossomed in black blooms behind her eyelids, her back arching involuntarily into an unnatural bow. And still, Rabbit could not manage the breath to scream, nor even gasp.
The world exploded into darkness, and there was not a thing that existed besides the quiet chuckling of the dark beauty who had so easily broken her mind.
"Let us see, doll master, how it is on the other end of the mirror. The Hatter in Alice's world."

Rabbit had awoken the next morning to find something felt different, and, yet, nothing really was. In the end, she was determined.
And she was determined even as she took each step towards the location where she knew she would find him. Mordokai the Redeemer.
Quite probably in the forest, with his dryad Flora. Curled up in a near-domestic bliss, with lips pressed together intimately, limbs tangled passionately.
She would be interrupting, no doubt, but Rabbit could not imagine Mordokai objecting when she explained that she wasn't there to kill him or turn Flora, or burn the forest down. Indeed, she reasoned, she would simply hand him the letter with a soft, almost melancholic smile, and turn tail to simply wait at home for his response.
Perhaps her thoughts had been too occupied, her eyes focused on her feet as she walked with even steps, as she always traveled. Her father had once asked why she walked the way she did, as if she were ashamed. Rabbit had responded only with a smile and a shrug; there was nothing interesting in the world to her other than her own thoughts. And now that her thoughts involved a particular Paladin...
Well, maybe that was why it was the smell of burning wood, deep and rich, that called her to her attention before she saw the forest all aflame, a figure clad in dark armor watching, chained to a familar tree nymph, bleeding and in tears.
A state of emptiness is where one has no future, no past, no time. As Rabbit watched the figure of the fallen Paladin turn, her world was broken. Emptiness absorbed her, claimed her, took her for its own.
His eyes met hers, her soul shattered, her heart nothing but liquid misery. He took a step forward, smirked, and she took a step backwards, and then another and another until she finally dropped the paper in her hand and fled.
To anywhere. Away.
Back to Wonderland, she prayed to nothing, nobody. Even now, she was still alone. No gods to protect her.
So, when she showed up at the doorstep of her sister's home, bloody tears streaking down her face, she was perhaps even more taken aback than Turtle.
"Rabbit, what's wrong?"
Sobbing, Rabbit managed to mutter inbetween gasps for air.
"F-F-Flora needs our help."

Vael!

Sad, heartbreaky fic is perfect (again) and I think this may be part of Redemption? Or similar to it. Beautiful stuff.

[Fredthefighter]

Now I usually only cry under certain circumstances.
But I could've sworn I shed a single tear upon readin it. Bravo Rabbit, Bravo.

[Destro_Yersul]

I love your writing, Rabbit. I really do. You're just so good at it.

Poor Rabbit.

[Recaiden]

That was a great story Rabbit. Very emotional.

[Reinholdt]

Well done Rabbit.

*adds to character to list of ones that are breaking/broken*

Dang it Mordokai...

[happyturtle]

I've recently felt compelled to do more work on China Gold.

Here are links to the previous chapters if anyone's interested. It's been several months.
Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3

China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 4: Silence is Gold-coloured
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy
dallas-dakota
Ethrael
and now, Aziraphale

Spoiler

Show

The summer evening light comes mute and blue into the east-facing window – airy, insubstantial. The shadows are not distinct. Since the phone call from Turtle – safe at home with Ruto, no visible tailers – the silence in the office has been thick. The sounds of traffic seem farther away than usual: the office feels sealed, removed. The nothing out the window makes good staring. A wash of dim, flat colour lays spread across Randman’s unfocused eyes.

A door closing somewhere in the building brings him home. Sound carries in the old brick bulks – between floors more efficiently than laterally, but the decades of wear and tear have carved unpredictable channels for noise.

No sound follows the implacable door. Randman picks up the tumbler still on his desk without drinking, its gold-coloured surface specked with dots of dust. He navigates the creaky ill-lit office to Nibs’ desk and sits in his chair, putting his glass down next to the empty crusted coffee cup. The desk drawers reply with spurts of sneezy dust and the smell of old stale wood as they are opened and rummaged. Unremarkable receipts, a bottle of over-the-counter caffeine tablets, a jar of instant coffee, a bunch of unmatched and half-used ballpoint pens and broken pencils, a Sting album, the dirty magazine from yesterday and several previous issues... a bottle of yellow tequila with a few ounces left in it, which Randman takes out and places on the desk beside the two cups... a package of crackers...

The licensed pistol Randman had been searching for is nowhere to be found.

The griefless awareness of absence settles on him. The matrix that bound this collection together, that gave it use and centre, still hovers even while the consciousness they orbited is over. Soon they will be disparate, unwanted, meaningless: but for now they are still the effects of a life, of work and desire. They still cast a common shadow.

Randman tips the tumbler against his mouth and swallows the sweetly awful rye. He sits, staring at a detail on the tequila label without seeing it, resting his lower lip against the glass’s lip. He smells soaked-in smoke and a whisper of jasmine. Silence. Absence. Heat.

Some minutes later, maybe many, another sound from somewhere in the building. It seems significant but it fails to penetrate Randman’s numb trance the first or second time, hovering beyond reception. The third time, it registers: knocking.

Knocking, from the waiting room door. Randman’s brow wrinkles up and he stands, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. He goes into the reception room, nearly dark, lit only by the textured window set in the hallway door where a blurry man-shadow hangs distorted on its surface, either wearing a hat or growing wide horns.

Randman hesitates at Turtle’s vacant desk, his hand near a light switch. He leaves it off, goes to the door, and opens it partially, keeping his face in darkness, blowing his smoke out through the crack. The hall lights are not bright, either. Standing there is a slim man very finely dressed in a crisply pressed white linen suit. The tugged brim of his white hat makes his face difficult to see in the stretched light.

“Mr. Randman Deuce?” he says in the kind of voice that narrates British nature documentaries.

“Who’s asking?”

A soft, moisturized, workless hand lays itself without pressure on the doorknob. “Zirus Phile at your service, Mr. Deuce. Excuse my dropping in on you like this. May I come in?”

“You’re lucky you caught me, buddy. We’re short on staff this evening. I was almost on my way out.”

“I was in the neighbourhood without my phone. I thought to try my luck, sirrah. May I?”

Randman steps backwards towards the open office door.

Zirus takes the gesture as invitation: he opens the hall door the rest of the way, and closes it behind him. He follows Randman delicately into the bluish indistinct light of the office.

Randman grabs his tumbler on his way to his own desk and sits down behind it, smoking. Alertness has slapped him like a coiled wet towel. He keeps his eye on the man and his ears wide open. Even without a dead partner, two clients in two days is plenty to make Randman suspicious.

“Zirus Phile. Let me guess, Enochian?”

“French, sirrah,” the man replies cordially.

Randman draws and sighs out a long, deep lungful of hot smoke. He considers the empty glass briefly, and before his silence hedges on impolite, shoots, “What can I do for you, Mr. Phile?”

“Forgive me, sirrah, but before I say – you are Randman Deuce the private investigator, yes?” His face is smooth, soft, and held with a trim and smugly polite smile: his eyes remain veiled, indistinguishable shapes.

“The one and only, buddy,” Randman returns, heat-niggled hackles rising. “What is it you want?” He pours a little rye.

“Ah. I apologize, Mr. Deuce. There’s an abundance of counterfeits in this world!” Zirus closes the office door but stays in its wake with his very fine coat pockets full of his hands. “First may I, as a stranger, offer my respect towards the recent death of your partner?”

Randman’s forehead wrinkles up. “You want to tell me what you’re here for, or what?”

“Your skilled help is required, sirrah, in obtaining a lost valuable. Possibly a stolen valuable.”

“What kind of value –“

Zirus flips the light switch in a rapid gesture: the dusty fixture draws detail and shadow instantly and Randman flinches. The eyes under the hat’s shadow are dark, soft and seductive. If carnivorous plants had eyes, perhaps something like that. In his other hand is a sleek, silvery gun, pointed straight at Rand’s face.

“I must ask you to remain seated and keep your hands on your desk please, Mr. Deuce. I apologize again, but a gentleman ought to allow himself precautions.” Randman stares at him his face a cool mask. “I am fully prepared to shoot you, I warn you. I intend to search your office.”

“You picked a funny place to rob.” He smirks and drinks his rye, eyeing the junky room deliberately.

Zirus’s seductive eyes flare and his narrator’s voice turns frosty; he totes the gun. “You might tell I’m not looking for money, sirrah,” he says, and his free hand fingers a crisply pressed lapel. “Goodness no.”

“Then what are you looking for?”

The resolve in Zirus’s face weakens slightly. He narrows his seductive eyes and, keeping the sleek gun generally pointed in Randman’s direction, he creaks over to Nibs’ desk. Its old, smelly drawers get dust on his exquisite linen suit as he fumbles through their useless contents, his gestures growing with the sharpened clumsiness of frustration even while his face remains composedly and smugly pleasant.

“The tequila is on top,” Randman offers.

Zirus shuts the last drawer and turns on the calmly seated Randman. “If you will kindly stand up and come to the centre of the room, I’ll need to search you and your desk please, Mr. Deuce.”

Zirus does not notice that while Randman’s face remains a cool mask as he puts out his cigarette, gets up, and walks around to the front of his desk, hands up in the air, his eyes become as hard and sharp as cracked flints. The first few pats around his midsection are all Zirus manages in his mistake of judgement: with cobra’s reflexes Randman hooks his fist across that soft, smooth jaw, twisting the skull at just the right angle to put out the light. As he topples with a last surge of panic, Zirus fires his sleek gun. The bullet leaves a fuming hole in the scuffed chair rail beside the window and throbbing peals in Randman’s ears. He swears.

Zirus’s hat rolls away from his head as his body lands. His hair underneath is a dark bunch of wavy curls like grapes.

Randman squats, empties the supine man’s very fine pockets, and relieves him of his weapon. He lays the items on his desk to examine them. It is a spatial convention without any nucleus, even in the presence of their very finely dressed owner. A wafter-thin cellphone, monocle, a pocket watch, a wax-paper packet of chocolates, a perfumed handkerchief, a keycard for a downtown hotel, a patent leather wallet. Inside, a variety of plastic and a theatre ticket for later that evening. And, amidst a moderate thickness of dollars, a few Chinese yuan.

Randman’s eyes narrow. He flips open the cellphone and jots down the number and makes a note of the hotel.

Zirus starts to gently writhe and vocalize. Randman leans against his desk and puts the sleek gun into his waist – still warm from Zirus’s hand and smooth with a brushed nickel finish. He puts a fresh cigarette into his mouth and sets fire to its end. A third of it is gone by the time Zirus sits up and rubs his chin, face crinkled in pain. Randman waits for him patiently.

“That was most ungenteel, sirrah,” says Zirus.

“You think I’m going to let anybody come into my office and hold me up? Here. Wipe your mouth.” Randman throws down the perfumed handkerchief and gestures to an empty chair with the gun. Zirus pulls himself into the chair and dabs at his lips. The small red circle left behind on the white cloth seems to jolt him. He stares at it without speaking.

“The jade bottle isn’t here,” Randman says, pouring a slug of rye with his left hand and then taking a drag with his right.

Zirus is jolted again, and looks up at Randman, his seductive eyes wide and startled. His lips move with the impulses of a number of stifled questions until, swallowing them, he composes his soft face into its prior smugness. “Sirrah, I can offer you a very handsome sum if you will produce the bottle for me. You will also find me none too curious about how you produce it, if you take my meaning. What do you say, Mr. Deuce?”

“I say for one thing you have no handsome sum in your handsome wallet there, unless the yuan has gone up recently. I also say you might have made that offer first.”

“You can’t blame me for trying to conserve my employer’s budget, can you, sirrah?” Zirus reaches for his hat and replaces it over his grape-bunch curls. “At any rate, of course I am not carrying the fully handsome sum with me now.”

“Who’s your employer?” Randman asks, keeping a hand near his hip.

“You’ll forgive me for not answering that question.”

“Fine. But I need some sign of your good faith, buddy. Nothing you’ve shown me so far that I haven’t punched is handsome at all, except maybe your suit.”

“Peek in my wallet you have there, sirrah, and see how handsome you find Sir Robert Borden. In fact, find ten of his portraits so you’re quite certain.” Zirus’s voice eagerly recollects its narrative slick with the business. “If this taste motivates you handsomely enough, and you can bring the bottle to me –“ He pauses, as Randman, smirking, begins to take bills out of the seized wallet on the desk. “You do know where it is, don’t you?”

Randman smirks, pockets the tenth hundred, and says nothing.

The significance of this silence is not so deliberate. Zirus squirms. Randman’s smirk becomes brittle. “On delivery of the jade bottle into my hands I can refund you with fifty thousand dollars.”

Randman takes a breath and then a last puff of his cigarette. When it is put out under his shoe, he picks up his tumbler and swallows the slug. It makes a convenient concealment for his reaction.

“That’s not too bad to look at,” he says finally, putting down the glass, eyeing the drops of gold-coloured poison left in the bottom.

“It is not, sirrah!” says Zirus. “Not at all. Now please, Mr. Deuce, I’d like my things back.” Randman lets him gather up everything from the desk. As his wallet goes into one of the pockets of his very fine coat, he adds, narratively, “I’m staying at the Marlborough Hotel, when you decide to contact me. Please do so as soon as possible. Fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Deuce.” He stands with his soft, workless hands on the desk, glancing smugly at Randman as if expecting something more.

Randman meets his eyes levelly. When nothing more comes, Zirus asks neutrally, “May I please have my gun back?”

“Not today, Phile,” Randman returns. “Next time I see you. When there’s a few more people around and a room you’re less curious about exploring.”

A brief and swiftly suppressed spasm of rage contorts Zirus’s soft, smooth face.

“As you say then, sirrah. Next time. I shall expect that to be very soon.” He tugs the brim of his hat lower over his seductive fly-trap eyes and heads out. Randman sees him out the hall door and locks it, making sure of its security. He leans back against the distorted glass where the gentle hall light shines through, closes his eyes, and passes a long sigh up from the depth of his rye-filled belly.

It’s almost dark outside. Randman stays there a little while breathing. From outside and below comes the roaring and screeching sound of the tires of a rapidly accelerating car.

Sorry for my lack of comments on various ships, especially Kneenibbles which got buried, but I've been all migrainey.

But welcome back Kneenibble, and good job.

And Rabbit... my poor sister.

[Dragonrider]

RHL and Mordokai have basically opposite roles in IStLY vs. Redemption. Hilariously awesome in a sad way.

[Reinholdt]

Redemption archives have been severely updated. Comments and suggestions are welcome.

[RabbitHoleLost]

RHL and Mordokai have basically opposite roles in IStLY vs. Redemption. Hilariously awesome in a sad way.

And yet Rabbit is the one in love with Mordokai in both

[Mordokai]

Love it muchly Rabbit Great work, as usuall. Better even!

[happyturtle]

And yet Rabbit is the one in love with Mordokai in both

Yeah, Rabbit's in love. For Turtle it's mostly lust, shallow hedonistic creature that she is.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Yeah, Rabbit's in love. For Turtle it's mostly lust, shallow hedonistic creature that she is.

That's why I can't wait to display angry Rabbit's.
She stuck, all alone with Flora, having to be good...and Turtle gets to be off sexxing teh Mordokai?!
Atleast, as far as she knows...

[Mordokai]

Girls, stop, you're making me blush!

Besides, there's enough of me to go around

[happyturtle]

I imagine Turtle will no longer be an object of prurient interest if/when she reappears in the story. ^_^

[Coidzor]

Hmm, what's a good premise for someone disappearing during fog of war and going MIA? I shouldn't have let myself insert Coidzor into my first foray.

And in Redemption are we going by a fairly standard, DND-based magic system... or are more creative... deep magic/blood-based elements welcome in addition to the spells we've grown to know and love?

[RabbitHoleLost]

Hmm, what's a good premise for someone disappearing during fog of war and going MIA? I shouldn't have let myself insert Coidzor into my first foray.

And in Redemption are we going by a fairly standard, DND-based magic system... or are more creative... deep magic/blood-based elements welcome in addition to the spells we've grown to know and love?

Because many of our shippers don't play DnD, there's no actual system. As long as it makes sense (or doesn't), go with it.

[CurlyKitGirl]

*stalks into thread muttering under her breath*
You know what I've only just realised?
Definition drabble/Falling was started before aRedemption, IStLY (some arcs of it) and Shadowland, yet in all of these, plus others Mordokai has fallen, is falling or is being redeemed.
Yet the interconnecting series which are probably some of the first to actually do the 'how do we get Mordokai to fall?' business are going to seem hackneyed now.
I might even have to have it as a pure redemption fic.

Oh well, work with what you got. I don't really mind, just annoyed it took me this long to realise. And they are primarily humourous/fluffy series, so it couldn't hurt much anyway.

[Destro_Yersul]

Here be Destro's latest addition to the redemption series! While it doesn't have quite the weight of Rabbit's, there is at least a single bone being thrown to the good guys in these dark times. And yes, Destro does love when his ship names have two meanings.

Off the Wall

(Redemption)
Destro/RHL/Nil, with mentions/appearances by Mordokai, Turtle and deathslayer7.

Spoiler

Show

I hate paladins... Negotiations were not going well. It had been all Destro could do to convince them not to kill him on sight, and things had gone downhill from there. They were taking a brief recess now, with Destro pacing his study and Nil and the others below. Liriel was off somewhere, probably sulking. Destro still wasn't sure why he bothered to keep her around anymore. She was useful, yes, but she was so rebellious at the same time. And so the lich paced and considered his options.

Downstairs, Nil was doing the same thing. Pacing, and thinking. Talking even though only his guard was there to hear him. I don't trust him. Out here, in the middle of nowhere. Why didn't we know he was here?

Either he got here recently, or we just missed it somehow. We haven't done any surveys lately, what with.. The guard fell silent, not wanting to say the name.

Mordokai. Nil nodded. I understand. I just don't want to have a lich with unknown motives and allegiances staring down our backs. I don't want any liches at all.

The guard understood. Undead were not welcomed in the civilized world, and to have one such as Destro living here, or unliving, he corrected himself...

The pair were disturbed by a loud crash from somewhere above them. Nil started, and they glanced at each other before rushing upstairs.

The call had been sudden, and Destro was a little surprised about it. He hadn't expected Rabbit to contact him again so soon, not with the way he had spoken last time, but it was a welcome interruption. He crossed the study, stood in front of the mirror, and tried not to look so worried. She had enough problems without him adding his own to the mix, he had decided that shortly after he heard about Mordokai.

Rabbit, I.. Destro stopped short. It was obvious Rabbit had been crying, and the old lich was caught short by that. What could do that to.. Turtle. He placed a hand on the mirror frame, stepped in closer. What's wrong?

It's Turtle. I don't know, but.. Rabbit sniffled, and Destro felt what was left of his soul contract. Had he a working heart, it would have gone out to the woman in the mirror.

I'm sorry. Rabbit, I'm so sorry... She nodded, turned the mirror on her end, and he got a glimpse of what had happened to Rabbit's sister. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the damage was not irreversible. He knew it would be fixed. But there would be a price. There was always a price, and this time it would be a steep one.

Rabbit was speaking again, but Destro didn't hear. He couldn't process the words. He sank into his chair, staring at the surface of the mirror, not truly comprehending what he saw. Rabbit... The words were distant, almost as if it wasn't him talking. I'll call you back... Destro waved a hand at the mirror, and it went blank.

He stood, crossed the room picked up one of his little mechanisms from the shelf on which it rested. He turned it over in his hands a few times, then spun and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall and came apart, scattering gears and springs. Destro heard footsteps coming up the stairs behind him. He knew who it was. The paladin couldn't have resisted checking the noise out.

The door opened behind him, and he turned to face the Saint. Nil. It was impossible to disguise the rage behind the words, or the fire blazing in the empty eye sockets. Mordokai will pay. Whatever you need, I am your man.

Obviously, this one fits into the continuity shortly after Turtle's body makes it's way to Rabbit.

[Coidzor]

I don't know, I think it will still have a place in the hearts of those who love the intrigue of it.

I have become quite intrigued by the sagas of Mordokai (I view it all as sort of like the differing versions of myths about the old gods, all forming a milieu from which we distill/draw Mordokai).

Hell, just going about the forum I've become interested in learning more about all of this. The fellow has quite the advertising arm.

V: Indeed... I've been having the idea bouncing around of a cleric who stayed on, trying to influence things behind the scenes but the steadily worsening atmosphere Mordokai spread throughout his dominion got through to the baser self that such clerics of light are in denial of.

[Lyinginbedmon]

I've still got a few days before college starts back up, so I might add something to Redemption before things get heavy again. I'm thinking of expanding on Mordokai's helper, who seems fairly forlorn so far.

[Reinholdt]

It was very good Destro. You could feel Destro's rage just right. I'll go add it in.