Raiha

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]We get the torrential Santa Anas winds every fall and throughout the winter. Winds in the 100 mph range just blowing smog and dust and debris all over the place. Uprooting trees, and spreading wild fires that burn down people's houses and force people to evacuate while their entire lives go up in smoke. And we have earth quakes. It's California. I can look out my window and see a ridge of trees that marks the San Andreas fault. We're due for another Loma Prietta style quake too. It's been too long since the last one. Even if we have little ones all the time that rock the house gently, it's only a matter of time before we're hit again and the entire infrastructure of the state falls apart. Bliss.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Despite my initial discomfort with the idea of having to rhyme lines when my best line ever in high school was "Oh to go back to the way things have been, you were my dancing queen..." I must grudgingly admit that I had a good time whipping out the rhyming dictionary [which saved me from having to resort to going through the actual dictionary], and using a real pencil and paper. Yes, those things, relics of the ancient past.... That and I suppose it helps that I've been to the desert before. Poor poor Gavin.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[center][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][b]Sonora[/b] I remember the endless, flickering lands, When I was completely alone with the one I loved, Standing and watching the eternally rippling sands, Waiting for the skies to turn to gold above. In the Sonora you waited for the rain, And when it came we danced together, But while it fell I couldn't explain, Why I wanted back the dry weather. Now I know exactly why that was, I just wanted to see your perfect face, Blushing in the bright sunlight because, There will never be a better way to see your beauty in this quiet place.[/FONT][/COLOR][/center]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Oh come on, don't begrudge the wife and her long lost husband. They haven't had sex in years. It's not their fault! Stands to reason they have plenty to make up for. Time, distance, etc. You should be happy they're getting along. When they are, your odds of survival dramatically increase.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Beth stood quietly in the kitchen of her home. If she looked to her left she could see the place where her husband had died defending her. If she looked to the right, she could see the place where her good friend Raiha, had helped her killed the person who had pulled the trigger. And making her way down the hall, she passed the room where she and her husband had once slept together, the guest room where Raiha and Crystia had been on that night. She paused, laying the knife down on the cutting board, half of the onions still uncut. Crystia was sitting in the zero G chair that Darren had bought for her birthday present, her arms clasped over her head. Raiha had already left to talk to some of her less-than-savory contacts within Otaku City. While Beth had every confidence she?d turn up results, part of her wished that she could do more. It wasn?t that she was afraid of anything at this point, but part of her just wanted everything to stop. The killings all over the city, seemingly random, always done by people who had no visible connection. Just the other week, one of her friends had died at a restaurant, over her teacup. How ridiculous was that? She sighed once, then again, and Crystia looked up just as Raiha let herself in through the garage door. She flicked the car keys over her shoulder to the wall hooks and sat down on one of the several bar stools next to the kitchen island and leaned on her shoulders.[/i] ?I found the man who set up Darren?s contract. Seems there was personal revenge involved this time, but he still sent someone because the poufter doesn?t like to get his hands dirty.? ?Well?? ?I can?t tell you his name just yet. But I can tell you exactly where he is and exactly what he looks like. I?ll go with you if you want to take him out yourself.? [i]It was tempting. Beth reflected inwardly for a few moments. Raiha would trash anything and everything close enough to destroy, and she?d do it all with a huge smile on her face. But if this was as personal as her contacts had led her to believe, better to do it alone. That way, if she failed, she wouldn?t take anybody down with her. Flawed reasoning, but like Raiha had mentioned before; logic had very little to do with it. In fact, logic had nothing to do with it. And that alone was good enough for Beth. She picked up her knife and began paring the onions once more, barely thinking about the cooking.[/i] ?I?ll go alone. But thank you for offering. You stay with Crystia.? [i]Raiha kept her opinions of Beth?s choice to herself, merely nodding once. After all, it was her choice. All her choice. If she wanted to go there on a suicide mission, why argue? After dinner, Beth sat at the kitchen table with Crystia and Raiha for a few minutes, all three merely staring at empty plates, barely taking in the pattern of the tablecloth. Then, without another word, Beth pushed back from the table and picked up the black duffel bag Raiha had set up for her earlier. It was heavy, but nothing she couldn?t easily move with one hand. She snatched the car keys and, following the hand drawn map Raiha had procured, took off down the highway and into the night. In the house, Crystia and Raiha dealt a hand of poker and resolved to sit up until Beth came home, or they received news of her death from the Otaku Police. The fridge was stocked with enough chick drinks to last them anyway. And Crystia had even been optimistic enough to buy individual bottles of champagne.[/i] ?Think she?ll be fine Raiha?? ?Why not? You saw how she blasted away her husband?s murderer. This time it?ll be even better.? [i]And prophetic or not, Beth kicked down the doors of the penthouse that Raiha?s information had led her to. The guards at the door were already dead. The duffel bag had contained both rifle and pistols, throwing knives and simple survival knife. Choking out their lives through ruined throats was a sound sweeter than any symphony, even more than the sound of her husband?s cello. Beth chuckled dryly to herself as another set of doors slammed behind her. Then she felt a cold tingle that raised the hairs on her neck, coupled with the almost audible sound of an animal breathing. Then the semi-corporeal brush of flesh against her own, and she turned very slowly to see something that must?ve been a death induced apparition looming in front of her. Then it whined once, and Beth watched as a very large dog, a hound really, slink through the empty halls, before turning once to look over a broad shoulder at Beth. It flicked a tail in her direction, then kept walking forward. Unsure of herself, and shivering slightly from the sensation of the beast manifesting right against her skin, she crept forward, and watched the beast shove open the doors that lead to the top floor. It looked real now, it smelled real, she could even hear it?s breathing now. Then Beth looked up and saw her enemy, the one that had selfishly ordered the death of her husband, sitting behind his table. And he looked so similar to someone she knew, and yet wasn?t him. Something off. Something completely wrong. And he looked through the hell hound crouched next to Beth, right up at her, into her face. His smile leered unpleasantly, grinding against her, making her teeth ache.[/i] ?So you came to finish me off then? Petty revenge?? ?That?s correct. I?m not above it. You killed my husband, and if Raiha hadn?t been there, you would?ve killed me too.? ?Eh, it was just business. No reason to fret your pretty little head about it anymore.? [i]His laughter grated on her ears, with all the comfort of nails on a chalkboard, or fingers crunching through Styrofoam. At the sound, the beast slammed her paws down on the table, rising up on her hind legs, and threw back her head. The howl that came surging from her throat shook the room from center to circumference, and Beth?s ears strained under the sound, before she came back to herself and unloaded the rifle?s clip into her husband?s murderer.[/i] ?You?re right. I?m not worried about it at all now.? [i]His corpse slumped over the desk, riddled with holes, still smoking slightly from the voracious onslaught of an avenging wife. The beast rubbed herself against Beth?s side, all conciliatory whines now. And then she stepped through the wall and vanished. Beth sighed and shouldered her duffel bag, headed for the exit. Raiha looked up as the garage door slammed shut and set down her hand, which had been truly unlucky. Crystia looked up from her own full house, and saw Beth, looking tired and drained, dropping her bag on the kitchen floor and leaning against the counter for support. Her friends stood up and went to be her.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I know your example rhymed in the challenge thread, and several quatrain's I've read have rhymed, but you aren't requiring that so long as it's simply in four lines of verse per stanza. You're not asking strictly for them to ALL rhyme... [SIZE="1"]Are you?[/SIZE] [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Alas, for I detest angsty metal with no true purpose. Next time consult the girl that actually spends time listening to good hard rock before killing all of our eardrums. *backhand* Oh yes, and it's been too long since we've seen the Crusader and his gorgeous wife. Although that makes me sound like a side dish. It's been too long since we've seen Raiha and the Crusader. ....but that doesn't work too. Help me here people.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]?Of course dear.? [i]At my glare, everyone folded their hands and shut their eyes, except Kiwi, who giggled and clapped her hands wildly, nearly overturning her apple juice cup. Gavin stood up carefully, head bowed and hands clasped.[/i] ?Bless this food, which my beloved wife has worked so hard to prepare. Let it refresh us and restore us that we may work hard and do our best.? ?Amen.? [i]Everyone immediately went for the food, while I passed the bowl of potatoes and the salad around, Sevara helping herself to string beans, going through a vegetarian phase as most girls seemed to do. For awhile, there was only the sound of Kiwi gurgling around a single pod of beans, and several Saiya-jins eating. I helped myself to more potatoes while the men tore into the lamb like it was going out of style. Predictably enough, it was decimated in a matter of minutes, leaving the less protein packed food for slower enjoyment. Billy lavishly buttered a slice of bread with his steak knife while Gavin stacked the potatoes as high as they could safely go on his plate before I shot him a glance full of violence. The milk pitcher went around several times more, before everyone sat back, every plate cleaned. I stood and reached for the dish of homemade applesauce, and the shaker of cinnamon sugar, setting it down just as the doorbell rang. Like a flash, Sevara was at the door, opening it to reveal both Sikal and Neil. Both grinned at her sheepishly and I could almost hear the excuses. ?We were in the neighborhood just thought we?d drop by and see how you were doing.? ?We wanted to see Gavin and go lift weights.? And on and on until you could puke. I sighed and reached for the extra two bowls and spoons I?d had enough foresight to set out. Flinging them across the living room to the front door, Sevara neatly sidestepped, allowing Neil to catch both bowls in either hand, while Sikal went for the spoons. I raised both hands to the heavens in futility and stirred my own applesauce absentmindedly. Everyone was here, nobody had exploded anything yet, and so far nobody had noticed-[/i] ?What?s that on your face Billy?? ?Uh this? Oh I tripped and fell down a flight of-? ?He was brawling during lunch!? [i]Sevara shouted out this choice bit of news just as Gavin?s expression had cleared to one of belief. And then we were all able to watch a miraculous sight. His coloring go from white to red and then to bright purple. I sighed and released Kiwi from her high chair while Gavin sat there like he?d been struck dumb, one eye twitching. Turning to give myself a vague amount of privacy, I let her nurse, keeping my head down during the initial blow up session that I?d come to accept as a natural part of Gavin?s style of parenting. While I preferred the more subtle approach, Gavin preferred a more explosive style, involving a great deal of shouting and mad gesturing. Cleverly enough, Sevara had sat back down to suck down her apple sauce, while Andrew, Sikal, and Neil engaged in similar pursuits. Billy kept his face down before Gavin touched a nerve and then they were both shouting. A lot. For several minutes. While I burped Kiwi on one shoulder before passing her over to Andrew, I leaned on one elbow and listened absentmindedly. Then, just when things were reaching the point of childishness, or rather, more childishness, I stood up and put a hand on Gavin?s shoulder, noticing that Sevara had done the same to Billy, who was standing and until just now, shouting back. Expressing a certain amount of magic mixed with ki ensured that the zap through the fingers meant that both Billy and Gavin were firmly set in their seats, incapable of moving up or down.[/i] ?Now that you two are done engaging in all that cathartic shouting, maybe you can all go do the dishes while the ladies go set up the weights.? ?Yes dear, whatever you say.? ?Good idea Raiha, we?ll get right on that.? ?Yes mom.? [i]Feeling that it?d be best to take my friendly suggestion before I did more than just sedate them, the men pitched in and had the dishes done in ten minutes flat, while Crystia played with Kiwi and Sevara and I moved the gym equipment around. In the few minutes we had to ourselves, Sevara spilled the rest of the story.[/i] ?They were teasing him about our family, and then one challenged him to a brawl, and you know he always holds back at school so he doesn?t kill anyone.? ?Heaven help us. If he?s being taunted there I don?t know what we?ll do besides-? ?And there?s talk about a underground fighting ring. I don?t know if he?s joined yet or if he?ll even be able to keep himself from doing something irreversible.? [i]Underneath the tattletale sister varnish, I could see that Sevara was concerned not only about her twin brother, but about the ramifications it would have for everyone involved. I had a vague moment of wishing that Vicky and Eriju weren?t on that deep space survey mission and scheduled to be home in six weeks and not six months. Instead, I went back to the kitchen after it had been vacated by the men began making rice balls for the next day?s lunch while the men engaged in manly pursuits like weight lifting and grunting. Gavin included. As I began to form the rice in my let hand, stuffing down plums and eggs almost randomly, I wondered just how I could talk to my husband sanely and sophisticatedly without him exploding at the thought of his son not only getting into fights, but not doing his best for fear of fatalities. And then there was the theoretical underground fighting club. Why me? ...is sometimes the only logical response.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I saw her looming large in my vision, the battle scarred mecha I?d faced off against in what felt like a year long battle looking just as bad as mine. She?d cut my hardline, restricted my movement, virtually hamstringing me, but I?d forced her to tip her hand. And she wasn?t looking much better. I ran a quick finger over the control panel above my right head. Ever light was lit up except for the environmental system, and that was only because it was broken. The temperature in the cockpit was so warm I felt like I was steaming inside my own suit. My radio crackled with static and I saw that the enemy pilot had assumed a defensive position, the best she could form anyway. In any other situation that position would?ve looked pathetic, but with half of her suit?s movement completely destroyed, who was going to argue?[/i] ?Sure you don?t want to just give up?? [i]Her voice was soft, lilting, not mocking though. She sounded like she?d been doing some heavy breathing, and I figured the temperature in her own suit couldn?t be much cooler than mine. I thought about ignoring her, but it wasn?t like I was going to be able to run from this. One finger on the useless trigger, and the other on the radio, I kept my voice conversational.[/i] ?Not a chance. You?re about as fried as me. I can hear it, and hell your suit looks like it was run through a shredder.? ?True. But you don?t look half as good. Bet you wish you?d never broken off from your main group to take me on.? ?Probably. Yet here I am anyway.? [i]With that I broke off the connection, showing the severed link on her end. Firing the last of my rounds seemed like a desperate move to me, but since I knew for a fact her own guns were empty was a vague consolation. At least she wouldn?t be returning fire. Of course that would?ve been much more impressive if she hadn?t just leapt out of the way at the last second and completely avoided my attack. Crouching behind more of the space junk that littered the field we?d been forced to fight in, she looked hunted. If I didn?t know any better, she seemed to be running scared. But we both didn?t have enough fuel to get far before gasping our last unloved and unmourned millions of miles away from home. I picked up a flat piece of burned out hull and held it up like a shield, feeling the creak of my mecha, complaining with every movement. Not a moment too soon either, she had picked up everything large enough to cause damage and was hurling it at me. I had a brief moment of imaging we were both simply in grade school, getting into a food fight over something petty like me pulling her hair in line, when one of the pieces of junk finally crashed against me. Cursing myself for not tracking her movement better, then remembering my tracking system was off anyway, I turned to see her right up against me. A split second latter, she?d started battering me with her suit?s still functioning fists, throwing in kicks for good measure. And the food fight had dissolved into a good, old fashioned, do or die brawl. I caught one of her fists with my own suit?s arms, and brought up the other for a good right hook, when she brought her knee right into the chest of my own mecha. The space I had to maneuver inside my suit lessened dramatically, and that sinking feeling in the back of my stomach reminded me that there was nothing left for me anyway. Desperately trying to fend off the rain of blows she was now unloading on my suit I reached one hand as far as I could in the cramped space, and entered the final command I?d ever make into my mecha. Miraculously, the self-destruct was still online, and as the system began to shut down, I slammed one fist on the radio and opened the connection I?d cut earlier. I knew in her suit she could hear the crackle, my voice wavy and distorted through the system.[/i] ?Don?t you wish we?d been the children of bigger gods?? [i]And then it all went quiet. She didn?t say anything back to me, she just started leaping away, as fast as she could go. My system clicked once, twice, and then I felt a shrieking pain building up inside of me. And it ripped and shredded and with my last thoughts, I could?ve sworn I heard her acknowledge me. Her voice soft and pure, no static to distort. She sounded nice, sweet, the kind of girl I would've taken home to meet my mom. Oh well.[/i] ?I always wished that.?[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Wait a minute. So we were all standing under, and looking up at a rain of...WHAT?! *mental scrubbers* Oh that's just gruesome. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Name: Ling Lee Kelly Gender: Female Age: 22 Physical Description: Dark brown eyes and pitch black hair, her features are classically Chinese. High cheekbones on a relatively flat face, at least compared to the masses of Europeans around her. Her skin is the typical porcelain or it was before she began to tan in the hot sun and her stature is less than impressive, hence her posture is relatively perfect. Several smaller scars on her hands and cheeks from the life she's led and the fights she's gotten into mar otherwise good skin. Built slight, but muscled where it counts, she hides her figure under a heavy leather duster and rusty chaps. Black boots, dark wide brimmed hat, and gloves also serve to obscure her features, if only because as soon as people find out she's a woman, her husband invariably has to leap to her defense. Her gear is never far from her, in the saddle bags of her horse, slung across her shoulder. She keeps a spare gun in one boot, a knife in the other, and her rifle is virtually omnipresent. Due to the constant danger and threat of death, Ling's eyes are never still. Even as she smiles, she's always watching for any threat, even if her husband is on guard, so is she. Personality Description: Ling is bright and cheerful, almost always whistling or singing a song while she rides with her man. Of course when they're actually hunting someone or being hunted, she can switch at will to darkly serious and preturnaturally calm. Her ability to change her personality is one of her more useful attributes; in any saloon she can go from sullenly silent to a rampaging demon, backing up her husband in any barroom brawl and holding her own with the best of them. Biography: Ling was born in Nanjing, China, the daughter of an enterprising merchant and a noblewoman of rather high birth. Her classical education included, dance, music, calligraphy, and self defense. Whether a rebellious streak, or simply an amazing amount of prescient character, Ling surpassed her instructor's expectations and mastered hand to hand combat as well as the softer arts. Once Ling's father had crossed the Pacific to America, Ling followed after with her mother staying behind as the Chinese government mandated. Passing through Angel's Island threw America's culture into sharp relief. Eventually her father settled in Los Angeles, setting up an herbal shop adjacent to another clan member's Laundry. Guarded carefully, with her father always on the watch for possible suitors for his now teenage daughter, the patriarch of the Lee family was hard pressed to find such a husband. And, in the rare moments in which Ling could escape from under her father and the servant's watchful eyes, she met Connor Kelly. In the livery stable, with a dark Western style hat pulled down over her eyes, Ling tended to her family's horses, quietly currying her own strawberry roan when he'd swaggered up to her and leaned over the stall door on his elbows. He tipped his hat back slightly with one finger to get a better look. "That hat doesn't fool me. I know a pretty girl when I see her." "That's nice." She spoke almost disdainfully, her accent very slight, so slight he blinked a few times just at the surprise of it. At that Ling had pushed back her hat to reveal a smoothly plaited braid, letting him look for just a moment, before taking two small steps forward and slamming her palm into his chest. And they've been together ever since. Showing a remarkable aptitude for the bounty hunting that was her new husband's primary occupation, she joined up with him after purloining the right things from her father's house and sneaking out in the dead of night. No note, no memento. She'd pulled up the stakes and stolen her own horse from her family, and run.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Well Gavin and I would help but we're busy making sweet sweet...toxic love. You know, bros before hoes or......uh...something like that.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Well if I didn't want to sign up I don't think I would've posted at all. Silly.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Saddle up Pilgrim. Actually I think Domon tried one of these once but the lack of participants besides...uh...me... ensured its early death. Oh well, doubtful you will have trouble attracting the right people now.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]While alphabetizing my ex boyfriend's bookshelves I found one of the large published hardback copies of the postcards and sat down cross-legged surrounded by dusty books and skimmed through it, discovering a variety of confessions. Some of them seemed plausible, and some seemed ridiculous. And then there were the sad heartbreaking ones and then the ones with amazingly good art. And sometimes you run across a confession you wished you had vocalized first, because it was exactly what you knew to be true for yourself.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]A buyer's remorse. It'll get you every time. But of course now the healing can begin. And it's not like he'd DIE from that or anything.....sheesh. What kinda monster do you think I a- Oh nevermind. The antidote's just so he won't suffer horribly while his ridiculously immortal body takes the damage.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i][b]I?m well aware this was supposed to be a retaliatory fight in a rather bloodbath-style-ish manner, but I?m feeling smarmy, and since you?re my husband, and I never promised to obey you, I think I?m changing your request ever so slightly. I?m sure you?ll relax and go with it for the sake of your sex life.[/b][/i] [center]~~~~~~~~ Did you want to see them? Erica and Raiha knelt where they had stepped, Porcelain and jade. Singing their way through the time, One hand on the table and one eye on the sundial, Visible through the open window into the sunlit garden. The wall hangings swayed slightly in the breeze, Draped over sandalwood lattices, covering up old blood, Stains from the past, mingled with those more recent, All over the place in this old room of old fears and feuds. Now used for another purpose entirely, Two girls giggling over their drinks with tea and foam, Smelling of jasmine and lotus and every sweet scent that had ever graced the senses, Silk and brocade and jewels on every surface, On them, cold steel, concealed. Twine your fingers around the hilt, watch them stand slowly, Slide open the door, and wait for them to turn, But it?s too late for you now and they?ve seen and they?ve touched, Metal sounds ringing with the brush of fabric on bamboo, Bare feet pattering as they come closer to where you were waiting, You and your accomplice. A flash of steel in your vision, the clatter and clanging disjointed, Heavy in your ears in an ugly sound, So different from the cries of laughter of young girls, Even girls that kill you and are killing you, And girls that weren?t meant to be seen. Shouldn?t have looked, You mustn't, but it?s too late to close your eyes, And pretend that what you did see, however pleasant, Was not really there. Take a better look and see your own body, Broken in defeat next to the body of she who had gone with you, Old blood mingling with new. Raiha and Erica have already gone, Through the window, through the door. To wherever it is that the bad girls go. [/center][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Now if only they didn't have to return to a battle sequence.... Perhaps the reunion would be vaguely more cheerful. Oh yes, it would help if Fauntleroy and Leonheart could just get along. But i think nice manly ignoring of each other work too.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[right][img]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/maceyellen-chronicle.jpg[/img] [img]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/gustave-avatar.gif[/img] [img]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/victoriaann-chronicle.jpg[/img] [img]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/fauntleroy-chronicle.jpg[/img] [img]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/marieevangeline-chronicle.jpg[/img] [IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/catherinesaraavatar.jpg[/IMG] [IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/leonhartavatar.jpg[/IMG][/right] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Macey leaned forward slightly in the saddle to get a better look of the maps Gustave and Victoria had opened. The compass in her hand, the cord looped over her gloved wrist, felt like a dead weight. She pushed that thought and it's connotations aside, and blinked a few times as Victoria Anne traced a fresh path with her finger, Gustave expertly manipulating Lucy across the rough terrain. She held onto his waist with her free hand, looking over her shoulder at Fauntleroy and Eva, both of whom were sitting very quietly, perhaps both lost in thought, while Lazarus automatically followed Lucy along the edge of the paths, picking his way almost daintily. Lucy's powerful claws gripped the dirt and rock that formed the tunnel floor, and if Macey hadn't strained her hearing, she would've missed it. A human voice. In the relative silence of the group it was easy to pick out. There it was again! It sounded like- It couldn't be. As if she'd suddenly taken leave of her senses, Macey whipped one of her legs free of Lucy's stirrup, and whipped it around, leaping down from her back. Eva turned to look at her twin with some confusion.[/i] "What is it Macey?" "I heard something back the way we came. It sounded like Father!" "No way! How could they be free? I thought-" [i]Fauntleroy looked like he'd been struck on the head. Macey took off at a dead run down the tunnel, towards the place they'd already come from, fear and hope both rising in her throat, threatening to choke her. And as she ran down the hall, the footsteps that weren't her own began to grow louder until she realized there were more than just one. It was Auntie Catharine as well. Both of them, looking slightly worse for wear, but still her Father and his sister. He opened his arms to his dust stained daughter, and she threw herself into them for a hug, holding on as if he'd disappear if she let go.[/i] "Father. Oh...we thought you'd been-" [i]Macey had been choking back tears since she'd turned the corner and seen his face, and now they burst free, while she groped for her handkerchief in her pocket and tried to embrace her aunt at the same time. Behind them thundered up Lazarus and Lucy alike. Victoria Ann had already leapt down, skinning her knees in the process but not caring in the least. Aunt Catharine smiled down through tears of her own, streaking her dirty face, while Victoria clung to her and then held up one of her own slightly mussed kerchiefs. Eva held her father's hand while Fauntleroy remained on Lazarus, looking rather stiff. Gustave hung back as well, but for other reasons, a smile on his face at seeing a family re united. The smile on Macey's face a brilliant glow, transforming her usually somber features. The orgy of happiness, gushing laughter, and tears of joy over, Victoria showed Catharine the maps, while Macey listened to her Father's account of what had happened in the tunnels.[/i] "So after finding her, and Gadget going forward into the caves, you sent him on to complete his mission..." "And he did. As far as we can tell. Now all that remains is to get out of this ridiculous hole and back into the sunlight." "Even though all that's waiting for us is gunships, and insanity?" [i]Fauntleroy's dry tone cut across their thoughts as keenly as the slash of the knife. In their momentary happiness they'd forgotten they were still underneath a massive warzone. Giving up her saddle for Aunt Catharine, Macey shrugged her shoulder and picked up the walking stick she'd had the presence of mind to bring along.[/i] "Better than death by premature burial."[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]?How were classes Billy?? [i]He didn?t look up at me, a light bruise already formed high on his left cheek. Crystia was lying lazily across the upper bookshelf, which was always kept clear for the inevitable time she?d make her way into his room whenever she visited. Her tail twitched every now and then in little movements. From the looks of things, she?d already given the bruise a lick. And the number of cat hairs I could count or rather couldn?t count on his jeans told me I should probably separate the two around bed time. Cue the teenage angst mumbling that I?d started cataloguing as it?s own special language.[/i] ??S fine. Nothing special. Just some math homework.? [i]Of course it?s possible my translation was off, but judging by the half open backpack, I wasn?t about to let the situation slide. Thumping down his basket of clean laundry I folded my arms when he merely stared at it through overly long hair I hadn?t managed to cut yet. A wicked, slightly teenage part of me somewhere deep inside wanted to just burn it off, but the smell of burning hair wasn?t worth it. Yet. I mustered my adult, calm voice, putting away the one that wanted to lambaste him for all the things I knew would come up during or after dinner.[/i] ?Put those away and come downstairs to do your homework while I get dinner ready. Come on Crystia. You can play with Kiwi some more.? [i]Almost reluctantly, she crawled down from her perch and followed me, with a forlorn glance at Billy, who was pointedly dropping his socks into a drawer and not looking in my direction. Kiwi was scooped up into Crystia?s arms, and headed for the living room, where Sevara was already taking over the coffee table. Like me, she shunned chairs whenever possible and was kneeling carefully with papers surrounding her. I opened the fridge and took out the well marinated lamb, heading for the preheated oven, and dumping the shallots and potatoes around it. No way was I peeling them more and then mashing them and making lamb gravy when I could just roast the damn things and be done with it. Heaving a latent sigh for the wiles of puberty, I busied myself with the bread maker, which my father had modified based on his wife?s design, to turn out four pound loaves of bread instead of just two. Saving effort, if not the amount of yeast and flower I still had to toss in there was quite nice. With a doughy thump and a burst of white powder, I began to knead the bread that would soon grace the dinner table, wrapped under a hot cloth, all crusty and delicious before succumbing to the ravages of Saiya-jin appetites. The clock in the hall chimed 6 p.m. And right on the dot came in my husband. Smelling slightly sweaty, his hair clinging to his neck, he leaned over to give me a rough whiskery kiss on the cheek, and to laugh at the flour on my nose. I swatted him, leaving a floury handprint on the seat of his pants, which would soon end up on the floor for me to pick up later while he showered before dinner. Thumping the dough into the bread maker pans, I turned my attention to the frying pan and began to cut through the pile of string beans Andrew had delivered in a large paper bag earlier. Two snips for the top and bottom, and then a good snap later, I began tossing them into the colander, the smell of hot oil popping and dancing in the skillet.[/i] ?Hey everyone. Where?s Kiwi?? ?Hi Andrew, she?s in the living room with Crystia and Sevara. Go say hi and go wash up.? [i]Dutifully, he went to the bathroom, knowing that the cleaner his hands were, the more likely I wouldn?t balk at giving him seconds. And thirds. Fourths were reserved for special occasions. Like when I wasn?t the one in charge of grilling the meat. Occasions like that usually involved whole lambs, and whole cows. All I had to do was prepare a marinade of some kind and provide the beer. Steak sauce was an abomination anyway. Half an hour later, Gavin was downstairs playing a friendly game of chess with Andrew, while Sevara pounded through another essay for her AP English class and Billy sullenly made his way through Trigonometry. I knew better than to pity him, or draw attention to the bruise that Gavin would notice soon enough. Hopefully after dinner but before dessert. The rack of lamb was now on the oversized dinning room table in the kitchen, and the stir fried string beans at one end of the table, the bread at the other. I set down a bowl of whipped butter and clanged the wrought iron triangle Neil had bent into shape and hung over the sink for a house warming present.[/i] ?Last ones to the table have to wash up.? [i]It was amazing how fast they came. I was already seated next to the head of the table, and Crystia had already slunk into her chair as if by reverse osmosis. Sevara had tripped her brother under the table and flown directly into her chair, bypassing footwork entirely. In a sudden burst of ki, Gavin leapt through the air and managed to land at his place at the head of the table without knocking over his glass or the pitcher of milk next to it. Billy and Andrew however were another matter. Both knocked over their chairs, and Billy tripped over the table cloth and nearly jerked everything out from under it when I pounded both fists onto the table and held it in place. Every glass tipped to one side, and like they?d been trained, everyone clasped their drinks and kept them from spilling. In the sudden silence, I raised my voice, injecting in a bright calm and turned to Gavin sweetly.[/i] ?Honey, will you please say grace??[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]?Drink up Moyaku. It?ll help.? [i]The doctor had brewed him a cup of fragrant tea, poured it with her own hands, patted him on the shoulder, while he waited for the bandages to dry. Earlier, she?d sewn the skin of his arm back where it belonged, drawn skin back over shredded flesh and held his arm while it twitched and cramped uncontrollably. And now he was deep inside the mecha that she?d helped him design, arms clenching the controls tightly, watching the hanger doors slowly crawl open, exposing him to the vacuum of space. As a million stars glittered around him, Moyaku kept on jumping back to that morning. She?d poured him that cup, the pungent aroma dancing across his olfactory nerves, reminding him of home, where there were no wars. No mechas. No doctors. Just his old mother, with the scent of jasmine tea heavy in the air, the smells of her liniment and lavender oils heavy in the air. The hiss of his suit, the scent of metal, sweat, came back to him, drawing his thoughts to the present. Moyaku sighed inwardly and moved his fingers, his feet, and he the pull of the freefall catch him. Jet propulsion, moving through space, moving soundlessly. While a thousand stars vaulted above his head, thousands more below, he saw his comrades going, riding to their deaths. The only sound, the sound of his breathing, heavy and crowded in his ears, pushing and prodding him to move forward, to go out where there would only be the end of all things. His vision vaulted instantly upwards, scanning in all directions for the enemies. His squad was otherwise still, slowly rotating from one side to another, getting away from the ship that had dropped them and was now headed back towards their land base. His radio crackled with static, his partner looking straight down.[/i] ?They?re coming up!? ?Jesus Christ! How are they fielding this many?? [i]The air around them was peppered with the mecha drones, unmanned, piloted remotely. It made no sense. There was no way the enemy had [I]this[/I] many automated soldiers, but here they were. Moyaku turned himself swatting the nearest out of the sky, ripping its circuits, while his comrades made good accounts of themselves. His left arm twitched in pain, the injured nerves jangling a loud warning he set his jaw and firmly ignored, as he focused on not getting shot out of his seat. His mecha roared in his ears, the sounds of hissing, integrated machinery doing it?s work, and then dead silence as the drones were systematically defeated. Knowing the puppet master would be close by, he circled above his team members while they scanned in every direction.[/i] ?He?s here! He?s-? [i]His team mate?s shriek was cut off as her mecha was shot straight through the chest, armor piercing rounds shattering the titanium and iron alike. As she fell, the others swirled around in a defensive stance, a mecha of nearly equal size but unequal strength slowly building up on Moyaku?s viewer. His comrades swarmed forward, mobbing the enemy with bursts of gunfire that glared almost too brightly in the darkness of deep space. They?d already cleared the nearest planet in a swiftly departing system, the light from binary suns growing very faint. The glow of their suits and the flare from their guns the only illumination, with Moyaku hanging behind for one last fight if his friends failed. And that sinking feeling he?d felt earlier was only intensified as the last of his friends was swatted away, defeated, humiliated, destroyed. Moyaku swung his mecha around, drawing back his grappling arms holding them outwards, unwilling to back down, even to save himself. Vengeance? Bravado? None of that here. Absolutely none. Just an injured boy in a beat up mecha suit, tired after years of war. And another enemy, tired as well from the relentless assaults, the ravages of time and space. Feeling inevitability well up in his mouth, he charged, swinging his left arm around, and bringing his right up in a pincer movement, locking limbs with the opponent?s. The two strained, stress fractures building up around the hulls, both wounded, tired, only stubbornness motivating them now. Both of their guns empty of shells, only melee fighting the recourse for the two, Moyaku whirled around, his mind tired, edge severely dulled by his arm. The bandage was turning red as the wound oozed lymph and blood alike. He sighed once, a quiet little noise, in the quiet expanse of space. Finally he maneuvered just right and slammed his mecha?s shoulder into his opponent, cracking the chest armor, forcing the pilot?s hand even as his suit gave out the last reserves of its power. Self destruct activated, all he had to do was sit back, with his own suit?s escape pod smashed beyond repair. His faithful mecha, that he?d repaired constantly all during the long times he?d had back on base with the doctor nearby, had finally reached it?s own limit. Far beyond what others had predicted for him, surpassing his hopes, and now finished along with him. A panel by his right arm short circuited in a brief shower of sparks, and his viewer went dark. He turned his head slowly, and looked out towards the faint sunlight over his right shoulder. Keeping it in his view, even as his vision went blurry and the oxygen ran out, he could turn his thoughts towards home.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]My classes are starting for the Spring Quarter of the school year so I'll be trudging to campus to begin to bend double under the weight of six upper division courses. Oh if only it were a joke....a cruel cruel joke. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I have nothing but respect for people who decide to serve their country in the armed forces. Granted I took the ASVAB and then the Navy would not. stop. calling. me. But that's probably my fault for doing so well in the communication's sections. And they have no idea just how insane I am, so odds are I'd probably not make it. But I hear that my insanity, myopia, asthma, and other respiratory allergies might not matter at the second. So maybe? I've been thinking of something to do when I graduate with my shiny degrees and whatnot, and the military isn't the worst idea, there are other options. But as far as others who want to serve? Or just want to learn marketable skills? And stab people with bullets? Why not?[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Let us now take a few seconds to explain. Item one: Raiha and Gavin are/were married and deeply in love, she knowing he was a contractor, and he not knowing she was as well. Item two: The surprise from that caused a bit of a blow up on Gavin's part, shock, dismay at the betrayal, and then a good bit of shouting on both their parts. Item three: Raiha has never forgiven Gavin for being angry with her when he found her choice of profession. Item four: Even if the poison in and on her won't kill him outright, Gavin would in fact suffer ridiculously horrible amounts of pain before she was satisfied. Item five: All this could be overlooked however if the makeup sex was a: fantastic and b: involved cake.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]So what that all essentially boils down to, and believe me it takes SOME boiling... ...is that you're completely wrong about lolita being provocative but it'd be terribly sad and embarrassing for you to admit it. Got it. And by the way sarcasm apparently runs right over you like oil over a fat woman because the only one doing any assuming here is apparently you. By drowning us in text so we can overlook the part where you have to talk yourself into a position of not feeling like you're wrong. Because a live journal community is so much more reliable than wikipedia. And the ridiculously short skirts that you would've been caned for wearing in Victorian England are completely innocent. [/FONT][/COLOR]