Beginnings - Book 2, The Breaking

[revolution]

Davenson shuffled through the sizely stack of red-dyed onionskin sheets before him, involuntarily raising an eyebrow at the thick print heading each one: Registered Offence. Davenson strummed a finger along the side of the packet- it was, indeed, such an accumulation of paperwork that the flimsy sheets were, to the touch, more like a pack of cards than their airy texture might suggest. Drawing a breath, he glanced upward at his longtime client, who had raised a hand to his eye and was rubbing it in an universal statement of exhaustion. "Long night?" Questioned Davenson, and sat hesitantly as Nort drew a prolonged breath and fixed him in a clipped glare, before pulling out of his slouch and grinning bitterly. "Right, right. Listen here, mate. It's 12:30 on a Saturday morning- so early that 'Saturday morning' isn't so much of a grammatical error as a point of view- and I've been called in to- what again? Talk to that one bitch from CC- Arse Negligence?" He brought a cigarette to his mouth and lit it, red ashes tipping from the burning end and fluttering onto the onionskin mound like miniature fire-birds taking wing. Hot panic snapped inside of Davenson, who cursed vividly and dove forward, stamping out the minuscule flames with his thumb. "Do you mind?" He snarled, squaring his shoulders as if to ward off any other falling sparks with a psychological barrier. Nort, who had lit a second cigarette and was now taking a drag from the pair raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement, though he remained as fixated upon his vice as a cat eyeing a mouse. "Not especially." He stated, exhaling a dragon-like cloud of smoke and leaning easily back in his chair. The cloud passed over Davenson's head, and the man's brow furrowed in anger, and what might have been regret.

"We've got a pair of post-Probates on standby here- one's down in Psych Eval and the other one's up in Recoup: took a toaster iron to the face and snapped a couple ribs. You still looking for someone to pair with Jacubois?"
"Hopefully. It'd be good to put him back in action again. You think the one in Psych would make the cut?"
"Him? No way. With Jacubois, maybe. But with Laurie? He'd get eaten alive, unless we could keep Jacubois in control. And that's looking like less and less of an option."
"Fine, fine. How about the one in Recoup?"
"'The one in Recoup'? Christ, Davenson. He's that one shit your daughter picked up. The gimp?"
"You've run Psych on him. Could I pair him with Jacubois?"
"You really want to try that again? Come on, Davenson. You were there. Why do you insist that Jacubois can be rehabilitated, after all he's done?"
"Send him up."
"Wal, you were there! You saw what happened-"
"Send him up!"
"Fine, I'll send him up. Let's just hope he's one tough shit."

***

"His name's Arosa Nelgence. Get it right, or he'll press charges. For the love of god, don't make me look bad."

The vidphone began to ring.

[musable]

Cameo felt horrible....two days out on he rown and she'd already been captured. She couldn't see Opal anywhere and the gaurds grip on her arm was tight.

Oh dear gods....please help me

almost as if by magic her prayers were answered. Opal hopped along the branch of a nearby tree and threw nuts at the guards. One of which was getting irritated.

"Stupid creature." He eyed him.

"It's a squirrel..." The other commented.

"It's throwing nuts at me!"

"Please! It's a creature of the forest, it wouldn't purposely single you out, especially since - " he was cut short as Opal threw another nut at the guard. "He just threw a nut at me!"

Cameo took that oppurtunity to attempt to break free.

"Where do you think your going elf! Just because asquirrel is throwing nuts at us doesn't mean you're going to get away...it's the dungeon for you until we can figure out why you're here, why you talk in rhymes, and what to do with a creature like you now come along!"

The guard forced Cameo into the palace and Opals attempts at nut throwing had prooved futile. Opal sighed in disbeleif, this was going to be harder than he thought. Torreath would surely fry his little squirrel body now...now that he had failed a second time to bring Cameo into the safety of the woods. But what could he do...Opal couldn't sneak into the palace alone...surely the guards would notice him...a small squirrel....he could try but...he only had one chance left. He really should get help...but then again he couldn't leave Cameo for too long....not at her current state. GODS BE DAMNED!!!!! Why was this so difficult?

Opal glanced at Cameo a last time as she disappeared behind the stones....

He'd do it himself....he was just a squirrel...he was THE squirrel. Opal scurried into the shadows after them.

[jenniamelia]

Damian looked down the street and shook his head, "We're going to be in BIG trouble if he come back with more." he said, glancing back up the Ebony.

~You're a big boy, you can hold your own, they are only human.~ she sniffed, flicking her tail.

"Still, we should move before we get in trouble, or before he returns." he said.

Reluctantly the black cat lept off the roof. ~This is silly you know.~ she sighed, shaking her head.

Damian suddenly heard loud voices as a group of the guards had come back, evidently faster than Damien had expected. "There he is, the little thief!" said one of them as they headed towards him, within minutes he was almost surrounded.

"I've already told you buffoons, I haven't stolen anything, I've never even been to the Upper City." he hissed.

"We'll let Queen Avendoraldhera decide that." said one, grabbing at Damien. He ducked out of the way and nearly stumbled over his own feet.

"Ugly ogres." he muttered.

~Damien watch-!~ Ebony started to warn him, but he never heard the rest as there was a crack as a fist slammed into the back of his head. He'd forgotten about the man he attacked earlier, who had recovered quickly(as it was a rather harmless spell) and got him from behind. "Now we're even." he said, flexing his fingers. Ebony wobbled, feeling the effects of the hit. One of them scooped up the unconsious demon. "Let's take him to the queen." he said, "We'll let her decide what to do with the little thief."
Unseen, Ebony silently and wobbly followed them, as they believed Damien was an elf(which was what he wanted people to think). ~Why must this sort of thing happen to you?~ she asked.

[FewRevelations]

Ether found herself in bed, her bathwater drained and her ball gown exchanged for a silk shift. Nightflower was perched on a tassled pillow near the fairy's head, on the verge of pecking her Bonded. "What happened?" the daughter-heir moaned. "I feel like I was trampled by a heard of unicorns!"

{I'm not completely sure,} came the hesitant reply. {You went through the motions of your usual baths, but... it was sort of like watching those marionette puppets you used to sneak from the palace to see. You were somewhere else entirely, I know that much.}

Slowly, memories came back to Ether, and her already sunless cheeks paled. "Oh, Sun-Lord! I've been given a quest by Lady Moon!'

{What?!} the crow squaked. {Have you completely lost your mind?! Selindra doesn't just go around, handing out quests willy-nilly!}

"No, I'm certain of it! She kept acting surprised when she said something about Mother not telling me something... I wonder what that was about?"

And then, something peculiar happened.

It started as a faint rumble, the sound of a mill grinding in the distance, or well-oiled cartwheels turning quickly. Slowly, it grew, until it was as loud as a thunderclap, and it was eventually joined by a trembling that made the whole world shake as though it was to fall apart at the seams. Ether, who clenched her blankets fearfully, felt all her senses become over-stimulated and dulled to the point of nothingness all at once. She felt wrapped in a too-tight blanket and as though there was nothing but air in every direction, smelled fresh horse dung and roasted chicken and the entire bottle of Mother's rose perfume at the same time as loosing all scent, including her bath salts. Her eyes saw a million colors everywhere, each detail of her room painfully apparent, but simultaneously her vision was shrouded in an impenetrable darkness. And then, every sense screamed, each pore feeling as though fire had been set to it.

And just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

"What was that?" Ether breathed, her wide green-brown eyes seeking out her Familiar.

The Dark One has opened the bridge between worlds, said a new voice in her head, painfully beautiful and horribly melodic. Time to go!

Her bedroom doors burst open to reveal her mother, shamelessly wearing nothing but her breastband and petticoats. It seemed she had been undressing for bed when she had felt... whatever that had been. Aven opened her mouth to ask her daughter if she was all right, but instead a strangled cry came out, and she flung herself at the bed. "I told you no!" she screamed at the sky, clutching at the fading hand of her daughter. "I told you that you couldn't have her!" The half-naked queen buried her face in the blankets, sobbing.



The feeling like every pore was on fire came again, followed by the sensation of jumping into a half-frozen pond in the winter. When all was still, Ether clenched her eyes shut, curling into a small ball where she lay and refusing to get up or acknowledge where she was. It felt like she lay upon grass, and it was warm, so that had to account for something.

Eventually, she knew she had to get up and look around. Nightflower's incessant peckings at her ear had nothing to do with her decision when she did peel back her eyelids. Instantly the corneas screamed at her for exposing them to so much light, and she blinked to clear her vision. When she could finally see, she stared, staggering to her feet. Before her was a strange building, white wood with red edging the glass-paned windows and the door, and a slanted roof covered in metal topping it off. Besides that, there was a huge door that looked to be made from metal and wood with no visible handle, off to the side.

Suddenly realizing she had been in her shift last, Ether moved to cover herself with her hands, but was shocked to find she was wearing clothes once more. A simple day-gown the color of the summer sky was what seemed to have materialized this time, the bodice huggin her curves nicely and the cream-slashed silk skirts arranged just so. Cream-colored moon-and-star-chain embroidery marked the modest neckline as well as the edge of the sleeves, which were skin-tight to mid-forearm before billowing outwards. A double-row of small, white pearl buttons went up the back, and cream silk ribbons had been woven into the plaited crown of her own ebony hair atop her head, half of her impossible long locks still hanging free.

She noticed for the first time that another being stood nearby, staring. They were obviously human, and despite their long hair obviously dyed black and the feminine tilt to their face, at first Ether thought they might be a male because of the blue trousers they wore. It was indeed a female, however. There was no mistaking it after looking past the clothing, which consisted of those trousers made from a strange material and a purple cotton shirt, clinging to her skin in a way that a bodice might more than the average shirt. The girl before her -- for it was obviously a girl, no more than sixteen -- had striking, crystal blue eyes, and a round, pale-skinned face. Despite the small house, this confirmed Ether's suspicion that a person of wealth lived here; pale skin and glass could only mean money. She was short, and stout, but still curvy, and the way she stared made Ether think that she was the one out of place here, and not the girl.

Ask about Mary, that terrible voice ordered, returning.
With no other options, the very confused fairy walked gracefully over to the girl. "Excuse me, but might you know where I could find a Mary?" she asked hesitantly, tongue tripping over the unfamiliar name.

The girl seemed to be working her mouth so she could speak. Finally giving up, she pointed toward an obvious street coated in some strange black substance. "Red house, white trim, Fir Street," she gasped finally," turning to race toward the strange house. "Brook's never going to believe this!"

Frowning and shaking her head over the oddity of it all, Ether started off in the direction the girl had pointed. What was a "Fir" street? Reaching the first strip of the black stuff, wide enough for two carts to drive side-by-side, she was shocked to find it was more solid than stone, despite its porous appearance. As she stared down at the black stuff, she wandered out to the middle of the strip, oblivious to the approaching danger. A loud honking noise made her jump, and her eyes went wide with shock as she raced to get off the black strip as a shiny, red thing went by! Searching for a word to describe it, all she could come up with was 'horseless carriage,' though that wasn't quite right.

She followed the strip of black stuff until it split into two strips, taking the one on her left and then taking another left when she came to a second split, noticing two small green signs that were awfully high, one proclaiming "Ponderosa Drive," the other "Fir Street." She was sure the strip she took was this "Fir Street," though she saw few pine trees. One thing that confused her most was the utter lack of people. Even in wealthy districts where every window was made of glass, such as here, there was always a huge throng of people during light such as this. But it seemed... Dead. Near the end of this division of the black stuff, she saw a red house, white edging the windows and doors, and a large section of gravel beside the house. Her skirts rustling, Ether raced down the small hill and toward the house.

She was pleased to find the strange door unlocked, and she stepped inside quickly, expecting furious maids to race forth and demand an explanation for her intrusion. Instead, the only sound was a small clacking coming from a room that was all purple on the walls and that of Nightflower's feathers rustling as she landed on her Bonded's shoulder.

Something drew Ether toward the purple-walled room, like iron fillings to a lodestone. She marveled at the color of the strangely textured walls, wondering if a color like that was possible to make, or if it was magic. A screen of blue-lavender wood edging brown velvet had been rolled back to reveal the rest of the room, a large shape that must be the bed taking up most of it. A bookshelf stood against one wall, a door into a room littered with cloth set into another, and a third door leading into a room covered with mirrors and yellow-and-white tile on another. Against the forth wall was a small, dingy, navy blue desk with a little black folding chair. The seat was occupied by a brunette girl staring at a strangely glowing rectangle showing many colors, little black letters magically appearing on the screen as her fingers tapped small buttons on a white chunck of some strange, hard material. A hollow sound emitted from the circles over her ears, and she bobbed her head rythmically.

"Excuse me," Ether murmured, suddenly feeling very small and out of place. When the girl didn't seem to notice, she cleared her throat and said again, much louder, "Excuse me!"

The brunette girl jumped out of her chair, yanking the circular things off her ears. "What gives?!" she yelped, tugging on the glowing rectangle's backing until it swung downwards to hit the array of buttons with a click. "I was listening to The Beatles, and I had a good message going--" She cut off with a strangled sound as she turned around, seeing Ether. "You're not Kilmeny!" she accused in a disbelieving whisper.

"Kilmeny?" Ether asked, her mouth struggling even more with this name than it had with Mary. "And why would you listen to beatles? They're just bugs!"

The girl's large hazel eyes widened. "Just BUGS?!" she cried. "You've never heard of The Beatles?! They revolutionized music as we know it!"

Ether shook her head, still not sure how a bunch of insects could affect music, but she had no wish to argue. "I'm sorry to bother you, but this is urgent. I am searching for one they call Mary."

The girl stiffened. "Why?"

"Her life is in danger, and I've been sent to protect her. Selindra said--"

"Selindra?" the girl rudely cut her off, frowning. "How do you know about Selindra? You'd have to be from Myrari to know about her, and that would mean you'd have to be... Which one are you? Cherub? Fang?"

"Well, I am from Myrari," Ether admitted, perturbed. This girl had rather darkly tanned skin, pointing her out as some sort of house-worker, certainly, and she didn't like being treated like an equal to one of such a lower class. "But my name isn't Cherub and it certainly isn't something so strange as Fang! My name, since you seem to be so ignorant, is Manetherendrelle Opaby."

The girl just stared. For a few moments, there was silence.
Then she began to giggle. "Right. I'm sure. As if my roleplay character were real, and Myrari actually existed. Come on now, who are you really? And where did you get that costume? It's so realistic!"

"Kyproin curse you girl, just tell me where this Mary is!"

The girl only giggled more, finally stating simply, "I'm Mary!"
It was Ether's turn to stare. A Creator, a girl? She couldn't be any older than that short one from before, most likely younger by aa year or two! As the girl -- Mary -- stood, she could see that they were of a height, at five feet ten inches tall, and her long chestnut hair had streaks of blonde in it. She wore trousers as well, though these didn't hug legs as had the blue ones, and they weren't the same material. These were a cream color with navy blue stripes, voluminous so that they hung loosely from her slender waist to her large feet. She also wore a cotton shirt with unusually short sleeves, black and covered in tiny white stars somehow, a square neckline showing the circlet of small glittering stones that looked like diamonds on a thin chain hanging around her neck. The shirt also clung to her skin like a bodice. The clothing here was very strange, Ether had decided.

A fuzzy, tortoiseshell patterend female cat slunk into the room, rubbing herself against Mary's legs. She bent down to gently lift the cat from the floor, holding it to her chest and gently stroking it for a moment before it struggled out of her grasp and fled the room, tail twitching in annoyance. "Your familiar?" Ether ventured.

Mary looked at the fairy funny. "You just don't give up, do you?
Give it up; I know you're not really Ether. Those wings are fake,
as is that raven on your shoulder. They're obviously both animatronic, since they move. Really, who are you?"

Ether sighed. "What will it take to convince you that I am who I say I am?!" she cried in exhasperation.

The girl considered for a moment. "Do some magic," she said at last. Make a book float over here from that bookshelf, and make it turn to page thirty-three."

With a sigh, the fairy complied, bored with the meager exercise. The Creator before her just gaped.

"There's no way," came her hoarse whisper as the girl sat back down stiffly. "It isn't possible."

[jenniamelia]

Damien groaned as he felt himself slowly coming to. One of the men was carrying him under one arm.

"Gah, I feel as if I've been kicked by a Unicorn." he groaned, rubbing his head. "Either I'm getting weak, or something is definatly wrong." he thought. There was no way the human should have been able to knock him out so easily with just one hit, even if it was to the back of the head, or even recovered from the spell that fast.

~I agree with you there.~ came Ebony's whispery voice into his head.

He looked around, they'd definatly left the Lower part of the city and were in the Upper part where the Upper class lived. Damien wondered where they were taking him.

"I see you're awake. You came around faster than I expected." said the man who had hit him.

"Bite you're tongue." he growled. "And let me go."

"Hardley." the man said stiffly.

Ebony suddenly hissed loudly when she caught sight of the man, because he'd been in front of them, so she never got a good look at him. ~How can they be so blind, that's no human!~ she snarled, hair standing on end.

"What are you talking about?" asked Damien as he was roughly dropped as they turned to look at the cat.

~Just that, or can you not sense it either. He's not human, he's not even a demon.~ she snarled, though she wasn't giving them this info. ~He's a foul creature from the lower realms of hell.~ Damien looked behind him to see what she was talking about.

"I wish you're familiar wouldn't talk so foully about me, it's quite rude." the man said. Damien gulped, Ebony had only been speaking to him.

"How did you know what she was saying?" he asked. The man didn't answer but grabbed Damien by the collar and hauled him up.
"Why don't we take a look at our little 'captive' in his true light?" he said, putting his other hand on Damien's back.

He felt a searing pain run through him before he could even form a thought. His wings shot out of his back, his hands became clawed and his upper lip curled back in pain revealing fangs. Beneath his hair a pair of small horns had appeared. The people jumped backwards, "He'he's a demon!" the youngest of them exclaimed pointing at him. Damien growled and pulled free, his wings folded to his back.

"Your point being? So I'm a demon, I admit it and I'm not ashamed either." he growled.

"But you should be afraid." said a voice behind him. Turning around he noticed the man beginning to change, suddenly in his place was a large shadow looking like a long hooded cloak that trailed off into mist. A shadow seemed to descend over everything

"A, Dark spirit." he breathed. ~I told you he was a foul creature.~ aid Ebony coming to Damien's side. "That's an understatement." Suddenly he was grabbed the one of it's shadowy hands. From deep within it's hood he could see glowing eyes and the flash of teeth.

"Very perceptive, too bad you didn't realize it earlier. I'm gonna be the last thing you ever see." it hissed. Suddenly he felt himself enveloped in a shroud of darkness.
A dark shadow began to spread from that spot where the Dark spirit was across the city. ~No, Damien!~ shrieked Ebony, but she couldn't do anything except feel his pain. Then, after the longest 5 minutes the shadow suddenly was sucked back into the spirit and Damien stumbled backwards across the ground, the spirit going the other direction.
"What in the hells happened?" asked one of them.

~He just saved your sorry hides.~ growled Ebony, looking at Damien. ~What DID happen anyways?~ she asked. "It's, a long story." he said ,shaking his head. ~It was 5 minutes, it couldn't be that long.~ she said. "It felt like an eternity." he said. He looked at his hands as a pale glow vanished.

"I will be back for you, trust me." it hissed, vanishing completely.
The few guards muttered between each other, "The queen will want to hear about this for sure." he heard one of them say. Weakened from what ever had happened Damien collapsed before he could say anything. ~Don't just stand there,~ snapped Ebony, waving her long tail, ~Get him somewhere safe.~ They nodded and picked up the demon and quickly headed towards the palace.

[Cherub]

The man watched her the entire time. She bent, very slowly, very sensually, to twine her hands through the hair of her familiar and send her off. When she came back up to her full hight, she waggled her hips at the man and turned full around to show him the rest of her assets as she closed the curtains.
Every move she made was seductive and the man was transfixed.
{Nicolette} Her familiar’s voice was a familiar thing in her head, but in this moment it drew her away from the sexual creature she was becoming mentally and physically and back to the girl she was whenever she was alone with her bonded. The long trunklike nose of the creature sniffed up her ankle, silently begging her to stop--like the old maid of an anteater tried to do every single time she was brought along to one of Nico’s job.
Nico shook it off, turning back to the man still sitting on the bed, still watching as she ran a hand down her leg- he being unaware that she was wiping off the feel of her familiar’s nose. She wouldn’t be able to do /anything/ here if she had that plaguing her. She blocked out the anteater’s mental voice for the same reason.
“Come Here.” She called out in a voice that was much deeper than her own and began to crawl over the man, straddling his lap.
With a bit of annoyance and panic, she realized he wasn’t responding to her advances. “What’s the matter, Dear?” She asked, pushing his hair back from his head and looking down at him. He cringed at the voice she was using, and she grinned. “Oh, I see, you don’t want /me/ do you, my sweet? You want /her/.”
She was practically laughing with sick glee as her form rippled and changed; shape becoming more round and plump, hair drawing up into /her/ hairstyle, tickling the back of a neck Nico knew was many shades paler than the skin she usually wore. Gayly she acknowledged who she was becoming. His wife.
“Poor man.” She whispered, using his memories that came to his mind at her image to reconstruct the woman’s voice. “Come here.” Inside, she was thinking of how sad it was that a man couldn’t even properly commit adultery anymore. Shame.
Once she’d made the complete change to his Mrs. He moved into action, touching places he’d never be able to on his own /wife/.
Such a miserable existence.


Nicolette thought about the world as she pulled a dress over her nightgown.
It was obviously no place for love and peace, even though the escapades of past had brought it to such a time. It wasn’t even a place where a woman could show proper affection towards her daughter or a man to his own wife without problems that go along.
Absentmindedly she trailed her fingers down the grooves in the bricks as she walked, wondering if she’d have to work a double night tonight-- Many of the noble- and rich-types where plastered and running around the streets; it was the Queen’s birthday and it seemed that all of the young men who could escape the celebrations had done so to celebrate more roughly in the middle city.
She didn’t feel like it, and abandoned her useless plucking on the cracks to tie up her hair into a bun- her body rippling and becoming one with much smaller features and less, if only slightly, attractive.
She headed back to her rooms, and allowed her mind to open back up to the anteater waiting worried at home.
{Do you know how worried I was about you?}
{I’m fully aware} She replied, opening the door to her rooms and climbing over the anteater waiting, annoyed, behind it. For a moment the girl wondered how the beast had gotten inside, but passed the blame off on her landlady.
{So much was happening on the streets. You could have been hurt or beaten or worse.} The anteater prattled on.
“What do you mean? I whore getting beaten and raped?” She grinned, loving to torture her familiar with horrid imaginings of her beaten body resting in an off road with her skirts pushed up. “How unusual.”
{You are brutish and disgusting} the Anteater howled, causing Nico to cringe and hold her head between her hands as she settled on a low cushion.
“I was joking, Mother Belinda, forgive me.” Nicolette crawled over the floor to get her arms around the large animal, “Don’t go all stern on me, I don’t think I can bare it!”
{And why not? You’ve given me every reason!} But Belinda nudged her bonded’s face, seeing that her snub had sent the oddly sensitive whore into a fit of tears. {Calm down, daughter, you need your sleep.}
The girl obeyed, she’d had enough excitement tonight.
In the morning she had to go shopping anyways.


OOC: There's a lot more where that came from, because I've been hording posts instead of posting them. Why? I don't know.

But look, Cherub posted!
Sorry if it's messy.

[jenniamelia]

ooc: Another heads up, from August 16th to the 25th I'll be gone again, this time to my uncle's.

[musable]

OOC - sorry i just moved into my dorm and returned from disney world so now that i have caught up with the posts it is time to write

Opal couldn't keep up with the guards. GODS BE DAMNED!!!! This was difficult....curse the gods and this dilema....It'd be my curse instead.

Reluctantly, Opal left the castle. He needed help....he needed assistance of an easy way into the dungeon. He pondered his dilema...he didn't need to think long because Cameo came rushing at top speed from the door.

{Cameo!} Opal was shocked.

"Run my little friend, or this shall surely be our untimely end!" Cameo didn't even turn around to stop. Guards came after her.

Confused, Opal follwed Cameo into the woods. As soon as Opal and Cameo reached their haven, The trees acted on their own will, making it impossible for the guards to reach them Opal gave Cameo the "run" look. And she didn't need a second look. She ran.

Far.

She went from closely nit trees until they began to space out into a deciduous forest. Her own heartrate speeding up. "I've never run so fast before.......i can't move...anymore..." Cameo collapsed into the leaves around her. Opal climbed onto her chest as she slowly took in breathes. Torreath had heard him...slowly...the sun began to set and Cameo fell asleep. Opal followed shortly. It was a nice welcomed sleep.

Opal heard a strange sound. He needed to leave...........immediately. He sprang to a tree and left Cameo....as he had been instructed. Helilo was on the move, to Cameo. Opal still didn't understand this relationship.

Helilo approached slowly and raised a pale hand over Cameo's sleeping form. He mumbled something...something foreign....perhaps the language of the gods. Opal watched closely as Helilo kneeled beside her body and gently kissed her forehead whispering:

"until the world is restored." Then he left. Opal waited and came back down.


until the world is restored.....why? Why? couldn't Cameo remember? Opal troubled himself back into sleep ontop of his elf.

[revolution]

Davenson stepped out of the elevator's rusted maw, causing it's gears to screech out a distressed howl as their wasted hides ground into the cement siding of the shaft. He grinned slightly at himself: ask any old Tom on the street what wore away at them, they'd almost always refer to the state of their limbs, to the old scars that now hindered their pace. For Davenson, it was, more than anything, the music he heard in the elevator. Growing up a teen in the early 2000's, music had not been a hobby, as it was for others in those troubled times, but a thing close to worship. Some dull recess of his mind had classified the strangled notes reverberating off the dented plasterboard of the elevator as the ancient tune, 'Conquest'. Minutes later, he recognised it as a White Stripes song, the firebrand of an American label that had been banned shortly after the Attack on Italy. How he was hearing it now was a mystery to him, but it did, indeed, make him feel old.

He stepped out onto the shooting gallery's floor, tugging on pair of large, plastic-shelled protective earmuffs. Trotting deafly to the nearby locker box, he selected a key from his belt and snapped the locker open, pulling out his firearm (A Brixton .98, used in the later Battle of the Wall) and a belt of heavy steel bullets. The curved shooting corridor had originally been designed to lower sound reverberations that had been the cause of a patch of negative reports from the overhead offices, but instead caused the sound to bounce more than ever, causing ghostly circles to erupt in water cooler tanks blocks and blocks away. Thus, the earmuffs.

Settling into a shooting alley alongside Cruz Marcelli, the manager of the prestigious AxD racket, a dabbler in freelance kills (or, "Work", as he called them), and a proud countryman of Spain, he strung a target sheet onto an overhead steel cord and tugged it down to the end of the alley. It's wheels squeaked, clothesline-like, and he thought back to where he had first heard that sound; in the back lot of his apartment during the Conservationalist period, when 'Green' had been not only a color, but a lifestyle as well. Though such things were thought of as a 'pinko's' behavior nowadays, back in Oh-Eleven they had been quite the fad.

"How did, eh, how you say, the R.O., go?" Rumbled Marcelli in that classic countryman's baritone of his, scratching absently at the empty eyesocket beneath his eyepatch as he tapped another round of Sim-powder into the neck of his Anarchy .280. The Anarchy guns were mainly for show: when the bullet was fired, a flash of flame would burst from the barrel, filling the surrounding air with red and blue smoke. Though the guns were originally American, Marcelli quite truly adored his, and was quite proud of his ability to shoot with incredible accuracy through the dense clouds of colored smoke. If anything, thought Davenson, the Anarchy's a metaphor of the American dream: try as you might, you can't keep throwing smoke forever. It's a terrorist gun: part of that whole goddamn Two-Star party.

Davenson laughed. "Have you seen 'Interview With a Vampire'?"
"No, I think not."
"Pretty much that, except with more blood." He stated this with such bitterness that Marcelli paused and turned in order to catch the man in the range of his good eye. "Not so good, eh?" He rumbled, silver mustache twitching. "You are not looking too well, either, my friend. You still upset about Hannah?"

Davenson paused before speaking again: he hadn't given much thought to his daughter's death since he had posted her in riot territory three months ago. There's only a few rules in this Business, and they are these: don't make a mess, don't get caught, and leave everything you'd rather keep at the gates of Hell. In other words, sure, there's money in it, but don't put too much into this Misery Business. It never gives anything real back.

Nothing real. Not in a physical sense, of course: death was expensive, so money was never an issue. Scars, either: damage was 'expected to be extensive'. (That was, in fact, the motto of most of the Recoup workers. That, and jokes about what was going to be your new rectum.) Real, like a wife who could look at you without thinking you a monster. Real, like attending a church for the first time in your life to watch your daughter get married, rather than buried.

"No," he said, lying through his teeth. "Not just that. It's just this new deal I've been placed with: it's a Ripping thing, and they want LxZ. Some kid's been fooling around with something he doesn't understand a few Jumps South. Nine, in fact."

"You are meaning, that Cell they found out South? The 'Tumor', they call it? It's some kid?"

"Yeah. Kid with his father's gun, though this one has an Internet HUB. I'm supposed to send Jacubois and Nort out to check on it."

"You told them yet?"

Davenson paused.

"No."

[musable]

Opal was dreaming.

It was a past life....it was the city. He remembered the city, and he remembered her. The angel with hair of sunshine. It was no longer relevante that she was no longer here....but she had fed him crumbs from time to time....She scooped him up and kissed his cheek. "I am not afraid of you....everyone els eis afraid of you..." She'd set him back down....

and one day, she didn't come back. Opal stayed hidden...in this city far away. Far away from where he was now....far away from the cruelties that used to plague his small tortured soul. That's why he was here now...withy Cameo. She had no past and he did.

When he commited suicide, Opal had appeared before the god of death and in exchange for a new chance at life he would have to help him....and se went along the chain of events until he owed a debt to several gods...but it all ended with Cameo...the simple elf who dared to seek Helilo.

When Opal awoke the sun was barely up and Cameo still had a few more hours of sleep left in her. He knew he really shouldn't abandon her...but he missed his old world....the world of cities and music, if you could make it there you could make it anywhere....

Opal scamperd off in search of assistance.

When Cameo awoke, Opal was no longer present.

She sighed almost longingly. Alone again it seemed....Opal would come back...he had too...Cameo stood up and walked silently along the leaves. The wind whistling songs through her hair.

She didn't look up, her weariness and sadness weighing heavily upon her...why was it she felt so sad? She had no memories to be sad about....

Not a single one....

When Cameo eventually looked up she saw that she was in an old abandoned shrine....it looked like it had once been used for worship but now lay covered in ivy and folliage that was centuries old. She delicately touched the moss. This was a holy place....even to the ancient gods that were long since gone.

The shrine was large and open to the sky. It had twelve pillars evenly spaced, six on each side. The pillars were connected through the stone ground and the barnches from neighboring trees. Steps lay before her. And a once proud stone decor now stood cobbled and ruined. She walked forward towards these steps to gaze at the stone statues. A staue for each god and on the top step stood an alter. Six feet long and three feet wide. Clearly made for sacrifices. She walked carefully around it to see what lay beyond the staues. The staues made a circle. Twelve stood in a prefect circle measuring the hours of the day, much like a sundial...and in the middle stood a small podium with an ancient book.

The book was covered in dirty and soggy from being exposed for years. She opened the cover and read the inscription on the first page.

"Open wide the gates of time,
the orb that Selindra seeks is not the one she'll find.
The Dark seeks a great power,
the power to control the mind.

And when the sun has faded
and the moon begins to shine,
the power of the orb itself
belongs to the child of mine."

It was old...very old, possibly written by the ancients. She picked up the book and saw whta lay underneath. It was a carving...a carving of the dark one. She quickly set the fragile book down and looked around again. She looked at the floor of the sundial....this was a temple to the Dark One....THE ADRK ONE!

She had read from the Drak One's prophecy book...

She took a step back and heard her own words repeated in her ears. They were translucent and echoed loudly. The staues began to glow and light up a pattern in the sundials floor.

"Open wide the gates of time."

[revolution]

June 31, 2007

Jay Dizon sat in the center of the apartment's main room, hands hovering awkwardly over the keys of a heavy, steel typewriter. The ancient contraption was balanced on his lap with a good deal of difficulty, but as things were, he had plenty of time on his hands. He sniffed, and scratched awkwardly at the large, padded brace that held the shattered remains of his nose in place.

It started with a wheel.

"Pair of wheels, actually." He stated, shrugging. Opted against restating himself. There was really rather little that he remembered of the incident itself; most of it had been washed out by the pain meds. He sniffed again, shifting his hands back and forth above the keys. Large, purple bruises squeezed his vision, giving him the look of one who required glasses but was altogether too vain to wear them. In the attached kitchen, the phone began to ring. He set the typewriter aside and stood up, ambling across the room and across the paisley tiled kitchen floor, raggedy flip-flops snapping against his feet as he did so.
Tugging the phone from it's dock, he glanced briefly at the caller ID before tapping the talk button with a half-nailed thumb.

It was Khriss, again.

"Stop telling me how to raise my children!" He stated, pressing an icepack to his nose.
"Shut the hell up," she replied, "That joke has officially lost it's funny. Heard about your nose, and just wanted to give you a call. Is it true that Wig seriously fucked your face up with a bike?"
"So, he finally mentioned it, did he? Thought he might be too busy with those shock pills he managed to bum of the aid car guys."
"No, actually, he didn't say anything: Jessy mailed me the videos. Why'd you even need an ambulance? I mean, it was just your nose, he didn't even get your teeth out or anything interesting."
"Thanks, that's real touching. Caring Khriss is caring. Well, from what I've heard, it looked like he'd smashed my entire face in. Somebody freaked out and called 911, I dunno."
"Sure, sure, that's what you say. Just let me add this: not only is the video hysterical, but in the background I can hear you cussing and screaming like a total pussy. Not to mention begging them to 'just end it now'."
Jay snorted, and turned about, coasting around the edge of the island and heading for the main room yet again. He had almost made it around the end when his feet suddenly exploded from beneath him and he hit the linoleum with a bodily thud. "Shit! Ow! God-Jesus-Effin'-" He hauled himself to a sitting position and scrambled the phone back across the floor, wrapping a hand around it and boosting it to his ear.
"What the FUCK was that?" Snapped Khriss, her voice punching high out of the phone. "Did you just throw the phone across the room? God!"
"I just slipped in some, like, grease. Ow, fuck, god, my head..." He trailed off, gripping his head and whining.
"Warn me before something like that happens! I practically just drove into oncoming traffic! Luck's basically been fucking you upside the head lately, huh?"

That was Khriss for you.

"I make my own goddamn luck."
"Well, then, here's me saying that your luck is shit. What the fuck is that supposed to mean, anyway? My god, Jay, you make absolutely no sense, you know that? Why do I even bother?"
"Well, somebody's on the rag today, huh? Mind the constant stream of PMS, Khriss. 'I am Woman, hear me bitch'."

She howled angrily into the phone and snapped her handset shut. Jay struggled to his feet and set the phone back into it's cradle, snagging his tattered yellow pocketbook off of a nearby counter as he made his way to the main room. He flipped through the dog-eared pages and finally settled onto one page, upon which he'd scrawled a single word over and over, digging faint ghosts of letters into page after page to follow: NOCENS, it read, and at the bottom, scrawled in red ink, the username and password he'd received from another friend for use on a website called 'Neopets'. Noted at the bottom was a brief 'P.S.' stating that it was 'Good for roleplaying if you're technologically retarded'.

By all means, that applied to him. Why not? Turning away from the glossy black typewriter, he booted up his mother's nice-enough PC laptop, and waited for the site to load.