Post by Nathalia on Jul 26, 2009 23:37:31 GMT -5
I got back from a 6 hour drive today and was too tired to color for very long.
Then muses ate me.
I don't have time to play on the board very often any more; much to the disgruntlement of my characters. So then I saw this "word" meme. It seemed a good, small outlet. But 30 and 100 are too much for me to do realistically with my time frame.
15, however...
So I went here:
watchout4snakes.com/creativitytools/RandomWord/RandomWordPlus.aspx
and clicked out 15 random words.
Here are the results.
I used lots of other people's characters. I apologize if they seem too out of character, but my characters seem to rely heavily on others. Thus, this happened.
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Challenge of 15:
1. Never: Bernard/Lin
Bernard sighed as he watched her move. Everything from the curve of her waist, to the thin bones just barely showing in her wrist was perfect. She was perfect. He’d told her when he first came to the door...in a song actually, intended to make her laugh.
Nothing but truth.
She’d even told him once, when he’d been a little too obvious. ”He swept me off my feet, you know? The first one here and I took him; I’d have probably taken any fool who walked in. Just because they would have cared.”
He could have had her. If only he hadn’t wasted his hills-be-damned time in Corvistowne with Melissa! He would have been to the palace first.
.........And Lin would have been his...not Blaine’s. Maybe they would all still be alive if Blaine hadn’t gotten that taste of power, if Lin hadn’t let him walk on her.
If she hadn’t walked on him.
Her hair, free of swirls and just a lovely, flaxen, Highland color swayed lightly in the breeze as she chased his brother across the courtyard. Laughing, even as she cursed at him to return whatever he had taken.
”Why didn’t I move forward first? You try to get a grasp on life, and by the time you’ve done it, everything good’s passed you by.”
It wasn’t his place, to comment, or to care this much. If only she wasn’t so perfect.
His head thumped off of his arm and onto the table, startling him awake. He jerked sideways and blearily gazed about himself, trying to shake away an ache that would not be leaving.
”Dad? Dad, you ok?” The cold, smooth texture of his son’s beak tip nudged his hand as he sat back and rubbed at his eye.
”Hmmm?”
”I know you said to stay out and not bother you but, pops and mom are getting kind of twitchy. You wanna come down for dinner or does pops need to come and “getcha”? Sascha gave a nervous little grin and shuffled backwards. Bernard stood and reached for his cane, pasting a grin on and moving after him.
”You know that’s the last thing I want. Alright. Tell them I’m coming and save me a seat between you and Andrei, and I won’t tell him you called him “pops”.”
He watched his son’s worries evaporate as he turned tail and raced away. He’d make it to dinner.
But he wouldn’t make it home.
2. Denial: Varestes/life
He’d never been bad at his job, just not right for it. The Queen had been too easy and he had been too hard. It was as simple as that. He had other things to do, and he didn’t owe anyone, or their memories, anything.
He twisted uncomfortably on the itchy inn’s sheets and kicked at them a little. Nothing felt right, everything felt too big, too old, too soft, too wrong... What had he done to deserve this?
Desert your Queen?
No. No, he had simply left her to take in that Butterfly or that horrid pair of Ferrets. Feck the ever-loving sands, those damn Ferrets. Especially that Vessetha. First she lusted after him like hell, and then she scorned him.
Bitch.
It wasn’t his fault that she had let the Yarrow mix win. He had left her with an opening, and the possibility of winning with the ability he left to protect her. She had done poorly and now that Donnie woman was in power. Who cared? He’d done nothing wrong. Donnie would be better for the Suit anyway, from what he’d seen. She ran the office with finesse, had a no-nonsense approach, and actually gave a damn about all those politics. So let her have it, he’d done the Court a favor!
Allow your lover to be violated? Sneak around instead of finding a way to make yourself more likable to him?
Not at all, Bernard was simply too hard to get through to. He barely seemed to have any friends at all. He just pushed them all away, just as he had done to himself! The King of Spades. ......He did...he had to have done. There was no other explanation for it. Bernard would crack one day, he knew. And Varestes would be there to pick up the pieces. Just like always. Just like now. He pressed himself down into the sheets, imagining the feel of the other man’s body and the welcome relief he would receive for removing him from his oppressive environment. One day he’d see. Everything had been for the best so he could prepare. The Spades Court seemed in good hands...from what he could tell, the Hearts Court was crumbling from within, and his King would soon belong to him. He just had to make all of the rights fit together.
Then they made sense.
All the sense in the world.
3. Found: Finistris/Osias
It was all right here.
The man dragged himself in through the doorway, past the first two portals and through the third to where a form, just as bedraggled and evil smelling as himself, lay curled. He heaved himself toward the creature and flopped against him, feeling the start and the rake of claws against his back as the other awoke with a fright.
”Silence, love.”
It was all he needed to say. He felt the tension ebb away as the Rat rolled over, took his Human form, and began to strip him down, muttering over the wounds and hissing his upset.
”It was only a game; I was simply playing with them. They proved a fair match.”
”T’ fuck did you play with that got you like this?”
The Rat muttered, reaching blindly for the bandages their son had been so kind as to buy for them.
”I didn’t know the Realm of the Heart King, very odd...a mix maybe? The Spade Queen was a Solandrian...how could I not give them a go, my dear?”
He gazed at the far wall as silence enveloped them. Some nights it was he on the floor, others it was his Osias. They would each take it in turn to help the other back to fighting form; they understood one another’s need for it, if not their reasons.
With a grunt, the Rat curled back up, his knobby spine pressed into Finistris’s bare back as he attempted to resume sleep.
He would tell his son in the morning, when he was able to get about with less pain. Those two had done a job on him, he was lucky the Corvie Mongoose still lived down the street with all the threats and “dirty” money he kept giving the man. He had done a wonder on his mouth though...what did he call his trade? Dentistry? Oral surgery, more like. Good man. He let himself sink further into his own exhaustion, his vision blurring as he took in the feel of his lover. His Osias. His home. His son. His life. His eyes closed and his limbs twitched as he felt consciousness leave him,
Home.
4. Lost: George/Rai/Lysaras/Conway
They were all dead.
Dead or gone from his life.
George buried his head in his hands as Master left the room and shut the door on his muffled whimpers. Why? Why hadn’t he been allowed to see them one last time? It wasn’t fair...it never was. ”Life’s not fair.” was one of Master’s favorite statements, after all. But master had been able to see them, he watched the Courts, especially the Hearts Court, for his studies. Couldn’t he have taken George along one final time, as he had to see his father? Ironically the one he hadn’t wanted to see?
Couldn’t he have let George say goodbye to his mother, his own mother? Or even Mr. Whip? Poor Mr. Whip. George sucked in breath and felt his face heat up as he tried not to allow himself to cry. Master had told him what had become of Mr. Whip. The closest thing to a father he had ever known, had been struck down by one of his real sons.
George felt a blaze of anger that pushed the tears back for a few more seconds. He would have made a better son than that! He would have helped Mr. Whip pursue his dreams for the Court, not killed him for the sake of taking what was his! He yanked the striped scarf off of the dresser so that he might bury his scream in it and heard the slight riiip! as it came loose.
Everything stopped at once.
He hauled the scarf closer and inspected it carefully.
”Nononononono...please, don’t be broken, please.”
It was only a small tear. Ellen could fix it easily. He hugged the scarf tightly to his chest, feeling the familiar burn as the tears started.
That scarf represented everything!
It was soft like his mother, it had green on it like Mr. Whip, White like Master and Ellen, and Conway had made it for him! It was special.
He needed it.
People left, people aged, people died.
Master made that quite clear.
He wasn’t aging.
He couldn’t leave.
He might not die.
At least the scarf could stay.
5. Lies: Bernard/Xiven
Bernard watched as Dymphna walked slowly by with Betsy. Both of them were followed by a horde of children and a few of the younger servants, trying to keep them in line. He couldn’t understand any of what was going on. He understood loss, oh did he understand it, and he understood trying to fill the void.
But, really?
He couldn’t help but disapprove of Xiven’s approach to the situation of losing Rhi.
So many lovers, on so many levels.
All, he could only assume, to balance out the hurt. While on some levels he couldn’t blame her, on others, he could. Maybe Othello wouldn’t have suffered such a grievous injury if Xiven had been more aware of her children, perhaps Mer wouldn’t be such an abhorrent brat if she had been less preoccupied with finding a new lover and more focused on reprimanding him(The servants only commanded so much respect from the child of Heart nobility), maybe Pravus wouldn’t still linger in the walls of the palace...
He blamed Peaches, but that hardly meant anything. He could blame Peaches for everything and no one would care to try and find her. Chastising her was like telling your own reflection to stop being so terrible. Not to mention the effect Peaches had had upon Seth’s state of mind. He was so committed to Heilyn, it must have been painful for such a stupid, drug-induced (he assumed) mistake to come back and nip him so badly.
He felt the right side of his face twitch with slight pain as the last of the horde of tails whipped around the corner.
He loved them all, and he would tell them that he approved until the end.
But this place really was going to the dogs.
”Heh, well... Traditionalists die hard, don’t they?” He muttered, tapping his cane on the floor in place of the laugh he couldn’t dredge up and walking away.
He couldn’t talk.
He’d done the same thing.
6. Away: Bernard/Seth/Lyn
He heard Seth’s laugh first. It was just easily distinguishable.
Especially when he was high.
The pair crashed into the lab shortly afterward, snickering, pushing lightly, and staggering toward him. He could smell the alcohol.
”Yes, you two. Tell me what you want so I can throw you out.” He meant it seriously, but with those expressions he couldn’t quite repress the smile.
It always started like that. One of them, or both of them. Either inebriated or fried. They came to find him if the weed made them wander. They came to find him if they couldn’t find each other.
He walked them upstairs, or rather, Seth half-carried him up with them. They would all end up in a pile on the Bat’s bed. Talking, theorizing, listening, drinking, crying, wondering. Sometimes sex happened. More often than not it already had.
It made him feel guilty each time.
Lin.
He loved Lin.
He would never not love Lin.
But when the pair of them surrounded him. Made him feel like a part of the family in more ways than just blood. When Heilyn stroked his hair, when Seth’s huge wings encased all three of them, when Heilyn started petting and licking, when Seth drunkenly kissed... He felt wanted.
He felt like less of a burden, less of a tired old book, and more of a person.
He hated it, but giving it up was out of the question.
So he told them that he was angry the next day.
Avoided them and acted as though the hang-over wasn’t feigned, he was good at it...
Went to his lab.
And was left alone.
”I’m sorry, Lin. I’m sorry and it doesn’t matter.”
It hadn’t mattered.
It didn’t matter.
And it never would matter.
Because she hadn’t loved him.
And they did.
”Goodbye, Lin.”
Bernard allowed himself to be heaved off the bench, struggling enough that they would remember it the next morning and then relaxing. Heilyn’s fingers danced over his chest and Seth began to belt out an old drinking song. Bernard let himself be washed away by it all.
He wished he felt more grateful.
7. Fever: Varestes/Bernard
Varestes pressed himself invisibly against the Highlander’s window. His hair was damp with perspiration and his clothing stuck to him awkwardly as he moved sinuously against the glass. It felt cool, especially against the heat of his lower body.
He watched as the King stepped out of the bathroom and shooed the damn Coyote out.
He watched as the King disrobed and got into bed.
He watched as the man pitched around for awhile before obviously falling asleep.
Someday, he would be in there beside the man.
He had decided that long ago. He just had to make sure that the Hearts were in such disrepair that everything fell to pieces. He’d tried to make things worse. Slipping things in servants drinks, placing things awkwardly about the place so injury was caused, stealing important items, even slipping an odd little favor remnant into the damn Bat’s drink right before he had screwed that abominable black Cat. Basically becoming the palace’s own, personal poltergeist. Even the horrible effects that favor had had on the resulting children hadn’t made everything fall apart yet.
He’d hoped that the death of the previous Queen and the rise of his insane son and worthless daughter in law would have hurried the rush of failure.
Somehow they still remained.
He panted for breath as he allowed his hand to wander while he stared at the King’s sleeping form.
Bernard belonged to him. No one else.
No Coyotes, Bats, Cats, or ghosts were going to steal him.
He choked and spasmed awkwardly against the window pane, freezing instantly for fear of calling the attention of that Josiggy Bird and freaky Chipmunk. Or that weird Highlander that hissed and reminded him of Bernard’s nephew (would nothing else cause his lover to leave it all!?), the Sorgaire Mouse with the spikes.
Or...
Or, gods forbid. Peaches.
Yes, he remembered her name.
She caught him, on occasion, though hells knew how. He would just turn and there she would be. Either sticking out of the wall, hanging from the ledge above him, or standing right next to him, watching with interest.
Varestes hated her.
She wouldn’t take sides. She wouldn’t help, she wouldn’t hinder. He hated it when people didn’t pick a position and stick to it.
He’d stuck to his...
No Peaches.
No guards.
Just himself, sweaty and a mess, and the night.
He drew his finger along the window in the mist the heat of his body had created.
”I love you.”
And he was gone.
8. Dauntless: Gaston/Lani/Viola
”Naha, of course you can come, light of my life! Here, you can ride on daddy’s horsey!”
He remembered when it had been that simple.
When making his little Vio smile had been just a pony ride, a Popsicle, or a new toy away.
But that had been back when Lanikins was still here. Back when he’d still been number one in the palace and his girls had been the princesses.
Lani. His poor little Lani.
He watched as Vola politely declined his offer and slithered away.
He deflated.
Why?
Why didn’t anything work anymore? He was getting slower, his little girl was getting further away, girls were harder to woo, and things seemed to be getting further away.
He hauled himself up on the Torque Ace charger and rode off toward the Capitol. Maybe he would find someone with an interesting job there? Or something good to hunt?
He needed to get away.
”Well, hello there!”
A hearty slap to the back, a few fancy punches, and it was as though fifteen years simply fell away. His little princesses would be waiting for a trophy when he got back. Lani would ogle it and try to touch while Vio shrank back and shrieked in delight. Then, both would squeal happily and cover him with kisses as he pulled pretty presents out of his pack from the Realm he had hunted the strange beast in.
Serafino would watch from the door, the thin line of his mouth disapproving, until Lani hauled the trophy over to him and cried in delight that someday, she too would bring him something’s head.
The little smile was worth every hour of toil.
No one else got that smile.
The Card before him sold him a map of the Golfam, and told him a few blood curdling stories of witches and monsters as they downed a few pints, Gaston keeping the tone loud and boisterous until they had corralled a small crowd.
A few free drinks, a few insults of manliness, and he had a hunting party of 3 instead of 1. After getting them some Aces to ride, they set off.
Only one stop was made.
To mail a letter home.
Dearest Viola,
Gone to the Golfam to bring you back something lovely. I expect a clean room, a good story, and a pretty smile when I get back.
Lots of love, Princess,
Daddy
9. Weather: WR/<3 Court
He had watched them since he had fought alongside them. The Hearts.
Of course, they thought it a legend now, something like saying that the 4 Queens had rode against the Tulgeys on Dragons or somesuch nonsense.
No. Not Dragons. Only themselves and the White Rabbit.
Ever since then he had watched them. Silenced the interactions until something of extreme interest came along. Such as Serafino. The man had been a marvel of insanity. So unbalanced yet, so perfectly balanced by his lovers and his Uncle.
Hmmm, that man would die soon.
He had taken an interest in the Horse as well, shame about his son. He had considered stopping that, but the result had been too intriguing. Watching Rai fall had been tantamount to heroic sacrifice, its looks at least. He had made certain to inform George as such. Poor George...such an emotional little creature. If he couldn’t find a way to temper the boy, or his abilities, he may lose interest early. Especially if he kept bringing in unwanted vermin. His hands balled into fists for a moment before he forced them back into a calm position. Hatter...George had a knack for bringing him things he didn’t want to find. Still, at least he could keep tabs on the man now. That would please Alice, if nothing else. Dear Alice, George and Ellen mustn’t know of her. He would have to talk to George about his allowance for movement outside of the warren when he returned home. He was going to restrict it.
Poor George, when he tired of him, he would dispose of him just as Serafino would have done.
No loose ends.
As to the invasion of dark Card taint in the Hearts Court!...fascinating, never had such a thing been allowed. As with the love affair between the Hearts and Club Courts. Too bad that had ended so soon, though he would continue to watch the Mouse. Aderlass proved too good to just let go. He wanted to see who it finally was who would make the man fall. That Bat was quite the monster. He’d considered making himself apparent to him, but the Coyote was just not to his taste, there was no getting one without the other.
Perhaps he would content himself in playing with the Mouse instead. Aderlass didn’t seem to have too many close friends at the moment. Perhaps his family would simply consider him a bit mad or senile. It may prove amusing.
He glanced quickly at his watch and tucked it away again with a soft smile.
He would be needed home soon for lunch. Ellen abhorred lateness.
Such a wonderful Doe.
The palace of Hearts rose high, a blight upon the landscape, and a wondrously entertaining one.
10. Phobia: Lysaras/Vana
She had shaken as she wrote it.
Varestes had told her not to worry, she believed it of course, who wouldn’t coming from him? Still... She had seen Donnie yell at people, that was enough, she didn’t want to see her reaction to the forfeit. She just wanted to sneak out eh backdoor with her Butterfly and take to the hills.
Pen met paper and the untidy scrawl spilled out of the shaking pen.
Should I fall during the battle...
She had to make sure that Vana received some of the more important items. The photos, the little Spade-shaped pillow that she loved so much, some money...
Soft furred fingers moved quickly over the paper as tears began to run the length of her Canine nose. She didn’t want to die.
She wouldn’t die.
She would hand over the Court calmly and walk outside to her new life.
Her life with her Parvana.
Everything would be perfect.
But something wouldn’t let go.
She couldn’t stop the feeling, even as tears hit the paper, she kept writing. What if?
She couldn’t let the what if’s rule her life. They did, but she shouldn’t let them. Vana always said to let the worries go free, not to hoard them too close...she tried, she tried so hard. She stared down at the paper, looking at the notes, the promises, the insecurity.
She didn’t want her Vana to know, not when everything had been planned so well. It was foolproof; she was just playing the part of the fool.
”I’m being silly again, Vana love.” She whispered to the empty room, folding the paper up. ”I should listen to you for a change.” With a small sigh, she opened the photo album, running a finger gently across a page of her Vana, she tucked the paper behind an especially stunning picture of her rare and beautiful lover.
”When this is over and I feel a little less...stupid... I’ll show you. And then we’ll laugh.”
Her voice choked.
She put the book back on the shelf, lay down, and closed her eyes.
Waiting for dreams.
11. Drip: Todd/Jak
”Huh...lookit ‘im” Todd muttered to himself as he watched the little Lowland/Sorgaire mix prance away from the shoppe adjoined to his. Emily must’ve given him another free supper, for him to be jumping like that.
She was too soft sometimes.
Granted, the food was either already bad or getting there, but you don’t want to be known as the “free place” do you?
There was something wrong with that little mix, he’d swear he’d seen 5 kids with exactly the same personality all over the effing Bazaar. It was starting to creep him out.
Maybe he didn’t know much about kids, but he’d always thought they were a little more...different than that when he been one.
He’d even tried to follow the kid once, but when he turned a corner the little freak was gone. Nothing but a ragged Corvie Ferret giving him a hopeful look.
The hell, right?
The kid smelled funny too.
He’d smelled Emily before, and she had less rot than the kid did. He should know, he’d been over every inch of her, and he’d seen the ones that rotted from the inside out.
The kid smelled normal.
He smelled like Highlander.
He knew that smell too.
And he would never forget it.
There was something mixed in with the Highland, another one he knew thanks to that delightfully snarky bitch and her progeny...Heilyn? Bog. No question.
Highland Bog.
Heh.
He picked at a flea gnawing on his chin and watched the place where the kid had disappeared. So the kid could change his colors, huh? Handy trick, that. He’d have to ask him one of these days.
Turning, he moved back into the shoppe and grabbed a sponge.
He was getting better at this, barely anything had sprayed...more of a small splatter, really. Morganberries. He hated Morganberries.
If he practiced on enough of them he’d learn every trick they had to offer.
One day he’d get Turpin back, then he could figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Maybe that kid could help him out.
He’d started nicknaming him “Jokes”, color changing. Like those mythical Jokers. Freaky kid. The room smelled good, like that cinnamon candle that pretty Highland Bird had brought him when she dropped by. Wonderful present, he couldn’t have asked for better. He’d have to see if Gertrude was busy tomorrow.
The door slammed a few seconds later and he retreated into his room. Emily would be busy for a while yet.
No one to see for at least an hour.
He pulled the picture closer to himself and smiled as his fingers caressed the frame.
Always here.
Always.
12. Boundless: George/Conway
George missed him. It was odd, and sometimes he felt poorly about it. He’d only been able to meet the man twice. And he felt like the best friend he’d ever had. There was just something about him that had reminded him of his mother, and something that had reminded him of shadows, and closeness, guilt, secrets, and need.
Like his need.
He was lonely too.
He pushed the cart laden with dishes down the hall to the kitchen. The cleanup wouldn’t take long. It never did, his fingers made for much quicker work than paws. He watched the bubble form in the water and smiled.
Maybe he could send Conway a letter?
He’d been toying with the idea for quite awhile, he wasn’t quite sure how things like that worked. Maybe it was magical? Either way, he was sure that if he put Conway’s name on the paper that the man would get it.
He hummed a song Ellen had taught him as he washed pie off of the china.
Conway would have liked the pie, maybe he could send him the leftovers too. He had said he was hungry often. He put the scrub brush down and picked up the hand towel.
Ellen said that things were never easy; she was right, but he was pretty sure he had it figured out. Master hadn’t liked Mr. Hatter, sure. But, he hadn’t cared one way or the other about Conway.
Maybe, in a year or two, he could convince Master to let Conway come back over alone. Then he could show him that he had learned to sculpt a little. It wasn’t much, but the little clay wolf was just sitting in his room gathering dust.
Next to his scarf.
Someday he’d get it to his friend.
He’d let Conway know that he hadn’t forgotten about him. Poor Conway had seemed to have such a rough life...
He put the dish away in the cabinet and started on the next one.
Maybe he could stay.
Maybe one day, they would both leave.
Maybe they would find out what it meant to have family and friends.
He smiled as he got back to work.
Things aren’t that hard, Ellen. You just have to want to do it. Right?
She kept telling him that he would be free to go back out someday, after his terrible father had truly been forgotten and he would be safe. Then he could make a house somewhere and find other Cards. He had a number like them. Sure, it wasn’t very high, but he’d leaned other things to make up for it.
Conway could bring his family too. Didn’t he say he had a sister? Something like that. They could be like brothers.
Yeah.
That sounded good.
Something like that...
13. Theatric: Finistris/Osias
Dressing up was fun. Undressing someone was fun too. Finistris loved seeing his Rat in, or out, of anything. But playing with something new was always the best.
”You know...” He muttered, running his fingers lightly through the Diamond’s scruffy hair, and then down over the stubble. ”I just don’t think the corset is you, Osias.”
”Looks a hell of a sight better than our son’s fucking cravat.” The Rat hissed, pulling at the restrictive fabric. ”I swear, if you tell him, I’ll-“
”You’ll what, love?”
He whispered, pushing himself up against the other man’s back and hastening the corset’s fall from grace.
”Tie me up, beat me a little, or maybe bring out your knife?”
He reached down low, caressing gently and stopping only when he heard the soft groan. Slipping down to the floor, he began pulling at the pants, letting the Rat shove his head into a more accurate position.
”No.”
Osias muttered, focusing on the mass of blue at his belt level and letting his hips rotate lightly. The wall shifted slightly out of focus as his lover found what he’d been looking for.
”I’ll fucking make you wear it.”
14. Tie: WR/Does
The White rabbit’s tie was important.
It was the first gift he had ever received. And really, it looked good with just about everything.
Sye had given it to him.
His first Doe.
Sye had been a lovely Tulgey. A gift from his father about 2 months after he had left his home warren. Her mane was luxurious, ebony, curled, and light, it was quite the touch. He had always been surprised that his father had been willing to part with her.
She may have been a bit dim, and nothing like some of his hand chosen lovers, but she had been the first.
Thus she would always be special.
He’d never had more than one Doe at a time.
Arah had been his second. Another Tulgey, with a creamy white mane and delicately built cheek bones, she had been far more interested in what he could offer her body than what she could teach him about intimacy.
Fallay was the third. A Corvie with brilliant splashes of green and a desperate desire to learn about his powers and watches. He’d eve come home to find her taking one apart once! The charmer had crooned at him so convincingly that he’d hardly been able to punish her though. Still, she wasn’t quite the right fit. When her time came, she moved on. Like normal creatures do.
The fourth was named Icanth. A Morganberry. One of the most stunningly beautiful Does he had eve acquired, with a wit to match. Flame yellow, with white tips to her fur and deep reds around her eyes and tail. A long mane of oranges and reds covering half of her face...the thought of her alone was enough to make him wish she had not left. She, perhaps had come closest to being perfect. Icanth, who had spent hours discussing his theories with him, bouncing new ideas off of him, able to charm the old ones and the bands of Leverets out of the hidden items that they might not otherwise have sold. She was the one who loved the idea of being with him, who moved in ways he hadn’t known were possible, who had kept her vitality so long. One concept she hadn’t taken to though. His kind of longevity was too much for her. She had requested to go as was natural for her. The idea of walking the earth beyond her time frightened her. He could never keep her prisoner. He let her go.
Morah was the fifth. A finicky, but nonetheless intelligent and beautiful Tulgey Torquehelm mix. She had enticed him in ways that the others had not been able to, drawn him to her and made him forget his other pursuits until he came back to his senses and taught her to respect him. She had a difficult time with it, wanting a simpler Jack with easier tastes. She ran away. He found her. He finished her.
Riswell was a beautiful Selkie. Imported to him by her own father as the sixth. She had delighted in his secrets, though she didn’t understand them all, and wanted nothing more than to stay by his side forever. Time has a way of changing minds though, and when she had spent 80 years with him, young, never changing, she grew to hate living with herself. She cast herself into the hearth fire while he was out gathering dinner.
Jakise came seventh. Sorgaire Highland and nearly as lovely as Icanth. Her mind was sharp and it was hard to make her smile. But getting her to do so was a far cry more rewarding than the easy smiles of Morah, Arah, and Sye. She claimed not to want to know his secrets, only to know him. This was a novelty, and he agreed to it, keeping his work to himself on her promise not to mind if odd things happened. She was curious about not aging, but didn’t complain. She went out one evening to gather watercress from the lake nearby. He never saw her again.
Melanie. Ah, his precious Melanie. The eighth and such a perfect embodiment of the Wood he could not have even dared to hope for. Morbid in her curiosity, raised in a Corvie’s Warren, she thirsted for knowledge and he gave it to her. She also thirsted for him, which made their connection all the stronger. She liked his studies, he even let her see the others, the pictures he had painted of them and told her what they were like. Her eyes were a deep crimson and her silver mane spilled over her shoulders. When she cried, it was as though she were bleeding. She had informed him up front that she would not be living beyond her normal years, but that she would live them until her body was exhausted for him. He delighted in her and kept her close. She grew old well and finally died in her sleep, the only one to do so. He took her out in the Wood and laid her out specially, the way she had wanted. Aging her to an impossible number for her body, and watching her death glorify in it.
And now there was Ellen. Dear Ellen, she was a good ninth. She had stumbled upon him by accident, and he had kept her out of a lonely desperation. She was more a friend than anything else, but a friend was a novelty. She had requested to go when it was time, but she was cheerful about it, saying she’d stay around until he found himself someone else. One of the most thoughtful things anyone had ever said to him. She would stay until he found another, then move on.
He’d never had more than one Doe at a time.
One day, one of them would be perfect.
One day, there would be one he wouldn’t have to let go.
One day, he might even go with her.
If he could just forget.
If they could erase Alice, if any Doe could ever hope to erase Alice.
And teach him what love really was.
15. Flavor: Cauter/Souris
Money had a taste to it.
Literally as well as figuratively.
It tasted like shots, like a night on the town, like amiable women, like chocolate cake, like someone to sucker punch, like a friend.
It was the best taste in the world.
But there was a bad tang in there now.
Money couldn’t keep people where they didn’t want to be if they didn’t care about it as much as you do.
Cauter was finding this out.
Why had she gone?
Souris.
He hadn’t seen her since, though there had been other women, and some men. Some even more beautiful than her, but none quite so intriguing.
Yarrows.
He would snort, take that as an answer and forget about her for another few days before the bad taste cropped up again.
Stupid really, to moon over a girl you don’t know, when others are happy to get to know you for a cheap price. Anything can be purchased, anything can be traded, even feelings, he’d purchased and sold a few. Spending so much though...
The expensive girls are such a risk...
Never a good return investment, or so he’d heard. Why should he bother?
Why couldn’t he forget?
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Hope it wasn't too long. It all just snapped at me. Thanks for the outlet, guys.
~Nathalia
Then muses ate me.
I don't have time to play on the board very often any more; much to the disgruntlement of my characters. So then I saw this "word" meme. It seemed a good, small outlet. But 30 and 100 are too much for me to do realistically with my time frame.
15, however...
So I went here:
watchout4snakes.com/creativitytools/RandomWord/RandomWordPlus.aspx
and clicked out 15 random words.
Here are the results.
I used lots of other people's characters. I apologize if they seem too out of character, but my characters seem to rely heavily on others. Thus, this happened.
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Challenge of 15:
1. Never: Bernard/Lin
Bernard sighed as he watched her move. Everything from the curve of her waist, to the thin bones just barely showing in her wrist was perfect. She was perfect. He’d told her when he first came to the door...in a song actually, intended to make her laugh.
Nothing but truth.
She’d even told him once, when he’d been a little too obvious. ”He swept me off my feet, you know? The first one here and I took him; I’d have probably taken any fool who walked in. Just because they would have cared.”
He could have had her. If only he hadn’t wasted his hills-be-damned time in Corvistowne with Melissa! He would have been to the palace first.
.........And Lin would have been his...not Blaine’s. Maybe they would all still be alive if Blaine hadn’t gotten that taste of power, if Lin hadn’t let him walk on her.
If she hadn’t walked on him.
Her hair, free of swirls and just a lovely, flaxen, Highland color swayed lightly in the breeze as she chased his brother across the courtyard. Laughing, even as she cursed at him to return whatever he had taken.
”Why didn’t I move forward first? You try to get a grasp on life, and by the time you’ve done it, everything good’s passed you by.”
It wasn’t his place, to comment, or to care this much. If only she wasn’t so perfect.
His head thumped off of his arm and onto the table, startling him awake. He jerked sideways and blearily gazed about himself, trying to shake away an ache that would not be leaving.
”Dad? Dad, you ok?” The cold, smooth texture of his son’s beak tip nudged his hand as he sat back and rubbed at his eye.
”Hmmm?”
”I know you said to stay out and not bother you but, pops and mom are getting kind of twitchy. You wanna come down for dinner or does pops need to come and “getcha”? Sascha gave a nervous little grin and shuffled backwards. Bernard stood and reached for his cane, pasting a grin on and moving after him.
”You know that’s the last thing I want. Alright. Tell them I’m coming and save me a seat between you and Andrei, and I won’t tell him you called him “pops”.”
He watched his son’s worries evaporate as he turned tail and raced away. He’d make it to dinner.
But he wouldn’t make it home.
2. Denial: Varestes/life
He’d never been bad at his job, just not right for it. The Queen had been too easy and he had been too hard. It was as simple as that. He had other things to do, and he didn’t owe anyone, or their memories, anything.
He twisted uncomfortably on the itchy inn’s sheets and kicked at them a little. Nothing felt right, everything felt too big, too old, too soft, too wrong... What had he done to deserve this?
Desert your Queen?
No. No, he had simply left her to take in that Butterfly or that horrid pair of Ferrets. Feck the ever-loving sands, those damn Ferrets. Especially that Vessetha. First she lusted after him like hell, and then she scorned him.
Bitch.
It wasn’t his fault that she had let the Yarrow mix win. He had left her with an opening, and the possibility of winning with the ability he left to protect her. She had done poorly and now that Donnie woman was in power. Who cared? He’d done nothing wrong. Donnie would be better for the Suit anyway, from what he’d seen. She ran the office with finesse, had a no-nonsense approach, and actually gave a damn about all those politics. So let her have it, he’d done the Court a favor!
Allow your lover to be violated? Sneak around instead of finding a way to make yourself more likable to him?
Not at all, Bernard was simply too hard to get through to. He barely seemed to have any friends at all. He just pushed them all away, just as he had done to himself! The King of Spades. ......He did...he had to have done. There was no other explanation for it. Bernard would crack one day, he knew. And Varestes would be there to pick up the pieces. Just like always. Just like now. He pressed himself down into the sheets, imagining the feel of the other man’s body and the welcome relief he would receive for removing him from his oppressive environment. One day he’d see. Everything had been for the best so he could prepare. The Spades Court seemed in good hands...from what he could tell, the Hearts Court was crumbling from within, and his King would soon belong to him. He just had to make all of the rights fit together.
Then they made sense.
All the sense in the world.
3. Found: Finistris/Osias
It was all right here.
The man dragged himself in through the doorway, past the first two portals and through the third to where a form, just as bedraggled and evil smelling as himself, lay curled. He heaved himself toward the creature and flopped against him, feeling the start and the rake of claws against his back as the other awoke with a fright.
”Silence, love.”
It was all he needed to say. He felt the tension ebb away as the Rat rolled over, took his Human form, and began to strip him down, muttering over the wounds and hissing his upset.
”It was only a game; I was simply playing with them. They proved a fair match.”
”T’ fuck did you play with that got you like this?”
The Rat muttered, reaching blindly for the bandages their son had been so kind as to buy for them.
”I didn’t know the Realm of the Heart King, very odd...a mix maybe? The Spade Queen was a Solandrian...how could I not give them a go, my dear?”
He gazed at the far wall as silence enveloped them. Some nights it was he on the floor, others it was his Osias. They would each take it in turn to help the other back to fighting form; they understood one another’s need for it, if not their reasons.
With a grunt, the Rat curled back up, his knobby spine pressed into Finistris’s bare back as he attempted to resume sleep.
He would tell his son in the morning, when he was able to get about with less pain. Those two had done a job on him, he was lucky the Corvie Mongoose still lived down the street with all the threats and “dirty” money he kept giving the man. He had done a wonder on his mouth though...what did he call his trade? Dentistry? Oral surgery, more like. Good man. He let himself sink further into his own exhaustion, his vision blurring as he took in the feel of his lover. His Osias. His home. His son. His life. His eyes closed and his limbs twitched as he felt consciousness leave him,
Home.
4. Lost: George/Rai/Lysaras/Conway
They were all dead.
Dead or gone from his life.
George buried his head in his hands as Master left the room and shut the door on his muffled whimpers. Why? Why hadn’t he been allowed to see them one last time? It wasn’t fair...it never was. ”Life’s not fair.” was one of Master’s favorite statements, after all. But master had been able to see them, he watched the Courts, especially the Hearts Court, for his studies. Couldn’t he have taken George along one final time, as he had to see his father? Ironically the one he hadn’t wanted to see?
Couldn’t he have let George say goodbye to his mother, his own mother? Or even Mr. Whip? Poor Mr. Whip. George sucked in breath and felt his face heat up as he tried not to allow himself to cry. Master had told him what had become of Mr. Whip. The closest thing to a father he had ever known, had been struck down by one of his real sons.
George felt a blaze of anger that pushed the tears back for a few more seconds. He would have made a better son than that! He would have helped Mr. Whip pursue his dreams for the Court, not killed him for the sake of taking what was his! He yanked the striped scarf off of the dresser so that he might bury his scream in it and heard the slight riiip! as it came loose.
Everything stopped at once.
He hauled the scarf closer and inspected it carefully.
”Nononononono...please, don’t be broken, please.”
It was only a small tear. Ellen could fix it easily. He hugged the scarf tightly to his chest, feeling the familiar burn as the tears started.
That scarf represented everything!
It was soft like his mother, it had green on it like Mr. Whip, White like Master and Ellen, and Conway had made it for him! It was special.
He needed it.
People left, people aged, people died.
Master made that quite clear.
He wasn’t aging.
He couldn’t leave.
He might not die.
At least the scarf could stay.
5. Lies: Bernard/Xiven
Bernard watched as Dymphna walked slowly by with Betsy. Both of them were followed by a horde of children and a few of the younger servants, trying to keep them in line. He couldn’t understand any of what was going on. He understood loss, oh did he understand it, and he understood trying to fill the void.
But, really?
He couldn’t help but disapprove of Xiven’s approach to the situation of losing Rhi.
So many lovers, on so many levels.
All, he could only assume, to balance out the hurt. While on some levels he couldn’t blame her, on others, he could. Maybe Othello wouldn’t have suffered such a grievous injury if Xiven had been more aware of her children, perhaps Mer wouldn’t be such an abhorrent brat if she had been less preoccupied with finding a new lover and more focused on reprimanding him(The servants only commanded so much respect from the child of Heart nobility), maybe Pravus wouldn’t still linger in the walls of the palace...
He blamed Peaches, but that hardly meant anything. He could blame Peaches for everything and no one would care to try and find her. Chastising her was like telling your own reflection to stop being so terrible. Not to mention the effect Peaches had had upon Seth’s state of mind. He was so committed to Heilyn, it must have been painful for such a stupid, drug-induced (he assumed) mistake to come back and nip him so badly.
He felt the right side of his face twitch with slight pain as the last of the horde of tails whipped around the corner.
He loved them all, and he would tell them that he approved until the end.
But this place really was going to the dogs.
”Heh, well... Traditionalists die hard, don’t they?” He muttered, tapping his cane on the floor in place of the laugh he couldn’t dredge up and walking away.
He couldn’t talk.
He’d done the same thing.
6. Away: Bernard/Seth/Lyn
He heard Seth’s laugh first. It was just easily distinguishable.
Especially when he was high.
The pair crashed into the lab shortly afterward, snickering, pushing lightly, and staggering toward him. He could smell the alcohol.
”Yes, you two. Tell me what you want so I can throw you out.” He meant it seriously, but with those expressions he couldn’t quite repress the smile.
It always started like that. One of them, or both of them. Either inebriated or fried. They came to find him if the weed made them wander. They came to find him if they couldn’t find each other.
He walked them upstairs, or rather, Seth half-carried him up with them. They would all end up in a pile on the Bat’s bed. Talking, theorizing, listening, drinking, crying, wondering. Sometimes sex happened. More often than not it already had.
It made him feel guilty each time.
Lin.
He loved Lin.
He would never not love Lin.
But when the pair of them surrounded him. Made him feel like a part of the family in more ways than just blood. When Heilyn stroked his hair, when Seth’s huge wings encased all three of them, when Heilyn started petting and licking, when Seth drunkenly kissed... He felt wanted.
He felt like less of a burden, less of a tired old book, and more of a person.
He hated it, but giving it up was out of the question.
So he told them that he was angry the next day.
Avoided them and acted as though the hang-over wasn’t feigned, he was good at it...
Went to his lab.
And was left alone.
”I’m sorry, Lin. I’m sorry and it doesn’t matter.”
It hadn’t mattered.
It didn’t matter.
And it never would matter.
Because she hadn’t loved him.
And they did.
”Goodbye, Lin.”
Bernard allowed himself to be heaved off the bench, struggling enough that they would remember it the next morning and then relaxing. Heilyn’s fingers danced over his chest and Seth began to belt out an old drinking song. Bernard let himself be washed away by it all.
He wished he felt more grateful.
7. Fever: Varestes/Bernard
Varestes pressed himself invisibly against the Highlander’s window. His hair was damp with perspiration and his clothing stuck to him awkwardly as he moved sinuously against the glass. It felt cool, especially against the heat of his lower body.
He watched as the King stepped out of the bathroom and shooed the damn Coyote out.
He watched as the King disrobed and got into bed.
He watched as the man pitched around for awhile before obviously falling asleep.
Someday, he would be in there beside the man.
He had decided that long ago. He just had to make sure that the Hearts were in such disrepair that everything fell to pieces. He’d tried to make things worse. Slipping things in servants drinks, placing things awkwardly about the place so injury was caused, stealing important items, even slipping an odd little favor remnant into the damn Bat’s drink right before he had screwed that abominable black Cat. Basically becoming the palace’s own, personal poltergeist. Even the horrible effects that favor had had on the resulting children hadn’t made everything fall apart yet.
He’d hoped that the death of the previous Queen and the rise of his insane son and worthless daughter in law would have hurried the rush of failure.
Somehow they still remained.
He panted for breath as he allowed his hand to wander while he stared at the King’s sleeping form.
Bernard belonged to him. No one else.
No Coyotes, Bats, Cats, or ghosts were going to steal him.
He choked and spasmed awkwardly against the window pane, freezing instantly for fear of calling the attention of that Josiggy Bird and freaky Chipmunk. Or that weird Highlander that hissed and reminded him of Bernard’s nephew (would nothing else cause his lover to leave it all!?), the Sorgaire Mouse with the spikes.
Or...
Or, gods forbid. Peaches.
Yes, he remembered her name.
She caught him, on occasion, though hells knew how. He would just turn and there she would be. Either sticking out of the wall, hanging from the ledge above him, or standing right next to him, watching with interest.
Varestes hated her.
She wouldn’t take sides. She wouldn’t help, she wouldn’t hinder. He hated it when people didn’t pick a position and stick to it.
He’d stuck to his...
No Peaches.
No guards.
Just himself, sweaty and a mess, and the night.
He drew his finger along the window in the mist the heat of his body had created.
”I love you.”
And he was gone.
8. Dauntless: Gaston/Lani/Viola
”Naha, of course you can come, light of my life! Here, you can ride on daddy’s horsey!”
He remembered when it had been that simple.
When making his little Vio smile had been just a pony ride, a Popsicle, or a new toy away.
But that had been back when Lanikins was still here. Back when he’d still been number one in the palace and his girls had been the princesses.
Lani. His poor little Lani.
He watched as Vola politely declined his offer and slithered away.
He deflated.
Why?
Why didn’t anything work anymore? He was getting slower, his little girl was getting further away, girls were harder to woo, and things seemed to be getting further away.
He hauled himself up on the Torque Ace charger and rode off toward the Capitol. Maybe he would find someone with an interesting job there? Or something good to hunt?
He needed to get away.
”Well, hello there!”
A hearty slap to the back, a few fancy punches, and it was as though fifteen years simply fell away. His little princesses would be waiting for a trophy when he got back. Lani would ogle it and try to touch while Vio shrank back and shrieked in delight. Then, both would squeal happily and cover him with kisses as he pulled pretty presents out of his pack from the Realm he had hunted the strange beast in.
Serafino would watch from the door, the thin line of his mouth disapproving, until Lani hauled the trophy over to him and cried in delight that someday, she too would bring him something’s head.
The little smile was worth every hour of toil.
No one else got that smile.
The Card before him sold him a map of the Golfam, and told him a few blood curdling stories of witches and monsters as they downed a few pints, Gaston keeping the tone loud and boisterous until they had corralled a small crowd.
A few free drinks, a few insults of manliness, and he had a hunting party of 3 instead of 1. After getting them some Aces to ride, they set off.
Only one stop was made.
To mail a letter home.
Dearest Viola,
Gone to the Golfam to bring you back something lovely. I expect a clean room, a good story, and a pretty smile when I get back.
Lots of love, Princess,
Daddy
9. Weather: WR/<3 Court
He had watched them since he had fought alongside them. The Hearts.
Of course, they thought it a legend now, something like saying that the 4 Queens had rode against the Tulgeys on Dragons or somesuch nonsense.
No. Not Dragons. Only themselves and the White Rabbit.
Ever since then he had watched them. Silenced the interactions until something of extreme interest came along. Such as Serafino. The man had been a marvel of insanity. So unbalanced yet, so perfectly balanced by his lovers and his Uncle.
Hmmm, that man would die soon.
He had taken an interest in the Horse as well, shame about his son. He had considered stopping that, but the result had been too intriguing. Watching Rai fall had been tantamount to heroic sacrifice, its looks at least. He had made certain to inform George as such. Poor George...such an emotional little creature. If he couldn’t find a way to temper the boy, or his abilities, he may lose interest early. Especially if he kept bringing in unwanted vermin. His hands balled into fists for a moment before he forced them back into a calm position. Hatter...George had a knack for bringing him things he didn’t want to find. Still, at least he could keep tabs on the man now. That would please Alice, if nothing else. Dear Alice, George and Ellen mustn’t know of her. He would have to talk to George about his allowance for movement outside of the warren when he returned home. He was going to restrict it.
Poor George, when he tired of him, he would dispose of him just as Serafino would have done.
No loose ends.
As to the invasion of dark Card taint in the Hearts Court!...fascinating, never had such a thing been allowed. As with the love affair between the Hearts and Club Courts. Too bad that had ended so soon, though he would continue to watch the Mouse. Aderlass proved too good to just let go. He wanted to see who it finally was who would make the man fall. That Bat was quite the monster. He’d considered making himself apparent to him, but the Coyote was just not to his taste, there was no getting one without the other.
Perhaps he would content himself in playing with the Mouse instead. Aderlass didn’t seem to have too many close friends at the moment. Perhaps his family would simply consider him a bit mad or senile. It may prove amusing.
He glanced quickly at his watch and tucked it away again with a soft smile.
He would be needed home soon for lunch. Ellen abhorred lateness.
Such a wonderful Doe.
The palace of Hearts rose high, a blight upon the landscape, and a wondrously entertaining one.
10. Phobia: Lysaras/Vana
She had shaken as she wrote it.
Varestes had told her not to worry, she believed it of course, who wouldn’t coming from him? Still... She had seen Donnie yell at people, that was enough, she didn’t want to see her reaction to the forfeit. She just wanted to sneak out eh backdoor with her Butterfly and take to the hills.
Pen met paper and the untidy scrawl spilled out of the shaking pen.
Should I fall during the battle...
She had to make sure that Vana received some of the more important items. The photos, the little Spade-shaped pillow that she loved so much, some money...
Soft furred fingers moved quickly over the paper as tears began to run the length of her Canine nose. She didn’t want to die.
She wouldn’t die.
She would hand over the Court calmly and walk outside to her new life.
Her life with her Parvana.
Everything would be perfect.
But something wouldn’t let go.
She couldn’t stop the feeling, even as tears hit the paper, she kept writing. What if?
She couldn’t let the what if’s rule her life. They did, but she shouldn’t let them. Vana always said to let the worries go free, not to hoard them too close...she tried, she tried so hard. She stared down at the paper, looking at the notes, the promises, the insecurity.
She didn’t want her Vana to know, not when everything had been planned so well. It was foolproof; she was just playing the part of the fool.
”I’m being silly again, Vana love.” She whispered to the empty room, folding the paper up. ”I should listen to you for a change.” With a small sigh, she opened the photo album, running a finger gently across a page of her Vana, she tucked the paper behind an especially stunning picture of her rare and beautiful lover.
”When this is over and I feel a little less...stupid... I’ll show you. And then we’ll laugh.”
Her voice choked.
She put the book back on the shelf, lay down, and closed her eyes.
Waiting for dreams.
11. Drip: Todd/Jak
”Huh...lookit ‘im” Todd muttered to himself as he watched the little Lowland/Sorgaire mix prance away from the shoppe adjoined to his. Emily must’ve given him another free supper, for him to be jumping like that.
She was too soft sometimes.
Granted, the food was either already bad or getting there, but you don’t want to be known as the “free place” do you?
There was something wrong with that little mix, he’d swear he’d seen 5 kids with exactly the same personality all over the effing Bazaar. It was starting to creep him out.
Maybe he didn’t know much about kids, but he’d always thought they were a little more...different than that when he been one.
He’d even tried to follow the kid once, but when he turned a corner the little freak was gone. Nothing but a ragged Corvie Ferret giving him a hopeful look.
The hell, right?
The kid smelled funny too.
He’d smelled Emily before, and she had less rot than the kid did. He should know, he’d been over every inch of her, and he’d seen the ones that rotted from the inside out.
The kid smelled normal.
He smelled like Highlander.
He knew that smell too.
And he would never forget it.
There was something mixed in with the Highland, another one he knew thanks to that delightfully snarky bitch and her progeny...Heilyn? Bog. No question.
Highland Bog.
Heh.
He picked at a flea gnawing on his chin and watched the place where the kid had disappeared. So the kid could change his colors, huh? Handy trick, that. He’d have to ask him one of these days.
Turning, he moved back into the shoppe and grabbed a sponge.
He was getting better at this, barely anything had sprayed...more of a small splatter, really. Morganberries. He hated Morganberries.
If he practiced on enough of them he’d learn every trick they had to offer.
One day he’d get Turpin back, then he could figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Maybe that kid could help him out.
He’d started nicknaming him “Jokes”, color changing. Like those mythical Jokers. Freaky kid. The room smelled good, like that cinnamon candle that pretty Highland Bird had brought him when she dropped by. Wonderful present, he couldn’t have asked for better. He’d have to see if Gertrude was busy tomorrow.
The door slammed a few seconds later and he retreated into his room. Emily would be busy for a while yet.
No one to see for at least an hour.
He pulled the picture closer to himself and smiled as his fingers caressed the frame.
Always here.
Always.
12. Boundless: George/Conway
George missed him. It was odd, and sometimes he felt poorly about it. He’d only been able to meet the man twice. And he felt like the best friend he’d ever had. There was just something about him that had reminded him of his mother, and something that had reminded him of shadows, and closeness, guilt, secrets, and need.
Like his need.
He was lonely too.
He pushed the cart laden with dishes down the hall to the kitchen. The cleanup wouldn’t take long. It never did, his fingers made for much quicker work than paws. He watched the bubble form in the water and smiled.
Maybe he could send Conway a letter?
He’d been toying with the idea for quite awhile, he wasn’t quite sure how things like that worked. Maybe it was magical? Either way, he was sure that if he put Conway’s name on the paper that the man would get it.
He hummed a song Ellen had taught him as he washed pie off of the china.
Conway would have liked the pie, maybe he could send him the leftovers too. He had said he was hungry often. He put the scrub brush down and picked up the hand towel.
Ellen said that things were never easy; she was right, but he was pretty sure he had it figured out. Master hadn’t liked Mr. Hatter, sure. But, he hadn’t cared one way or the other about Conway.
Maybe, in a year or two, he could convince Master to let Conway come back over alone. Then he could show him that he had learned to sculpt a little. It wasn’t much, but the little clay wolf was just sitting in his room gathering dust.
Next to his scarf.
Someday he’d get it to his friend.
He’d let Conway know that he hadn’t forgotten about him. Poor Conway had seemed to have such a rough life...
He put the dish away in the cabinet and started on the next one.
Maybe he could stay.
Maybe one day, they would both leave.
Maybe they would find out what it meant to have family and friends.
He smiled as he got back to work.
Things aren’t that hard, Ellen. You just have to want to do it. Right?
She kept telling him that he would be free to go back out someday, after his terrible father had truly been forgotten and he would be safe. Then he could make a house somewhere and find other Cards. He had a number like them. Sure, it wasn’t very high, but he’d leaned other things to make up for it.
Conway could bring his family too. Didn’t he say he had a sister? Something like that. They could be like brothers.
Yeah.
That sounded good.
Something like that...
13. Theatric: Finistris/Osias
Dressing up was fun. Undressing someone was fun too. Finistris loved seeing his Rat in, or out, of anything. But playing with something new was always the best.
”You know...” He muttered, running his fingers lightly through the Diamond’s scruffy hair, and then down over the stubble. ”I just don’t think the corset is you, Osias.”
”Looks a hell of a sight better than our son’s fucking cravat.” The Rat hissed, pulling at the restrictive fabric. ”I swear, if you tell him, I’ll-“
”You’ll what, love?”
He whispered, pushing himself up against the other man’s back and hastening the corset’s fall from grace.
”Tie me up, beat me a little, or maybe bring out your knife?”
He reached down low, caressing gently and stopping only when he heard the soft groan. Slipping down to the floor, he began pulling at the pants, letting the Rat shove his head into a more accurate position.
”No.”
Osias muttered, focusing on the mass of blue at his belt level and letting his hips rotate lightly. The wall shifted slightly out of focus as his lover found what he’d been looking for.
”I’ll fucking make you wear it.”
14. Tie: WR/Does
The White rabbit’s tie was important.
It was the first gift he had ever received. And really, it looked good with just about everything.
Sye had given it to him.
His first Doe.
Sye had been a lovely Tulgey. A gift from his father about 2 months after he had left his home warren. Her mane was luxurious, ebony, curled, and light, it was quite the touch. He had always been surprised that his father had been willing to part with her.
She may have been a bit dim, and nothing like some of his hand chosen lovers, but she had been the first.
Thus she would always be special.
He’d never had more than one Doe at a time.
Arah had been his second. Another Tulgey, with a creamy white mane and delicately built cheek bones, she had been far more interested in what he could offer her body than what she could teach him about intimacy.
Fallay was the third. A Corvie with brilliant splashes of green and a desperate desire to learn about his powers and watches. He’d eve come home to find her taking one apart once! The charmer had crooned at him so convincingly that he’d hardly been able to punish her though. Still, she wasn’t quite the right fit. When her time came, she moved on. Like normal creatures do.
The fourth was named Icanth. A Morganberry. One of the most stunningly beautiful Does he had eve acquired, with a wit to match. Flame yellow, with white tips to her fur and deep reds around her eyes and tail. A long mane of oranges and reds covering half of her face...the thought of her alone was enough to make him wish she had not left. She, perhaps had come closest to being perfect. Icanth, who had spent hours discussing his theories with him, bouncing new ideas off of him, able to charm the old ones and the bands of Leverets out of the hidden items that they might not otherwise have sold. She was the one who loved the idea of being with him, who moved in ways he hadn’t known were possible, who had kept her vitality so long. One concept she hadn’t taken to though. His kind of longevity was too much for her. She had requested to go as was natural for her. The idea of walking the earth beyond her time frightened her. He could never keep her prisoner. He let her go.
Morah was the fifth. A finicky, but nonetheless intelligent and beautiful Tulgey Torquehelm mix. She had enticed him in ways that the others had not been able to, drawn him to her and made him forget his other pursuits until he came back to his senses and taught her to respect him. She had a difficult time with it, wanting a simpler Jack with easier tastes. She ran away. He found her. He finished her.
Riswell was a beautiful Selkie. Imported to him by her own father as the sixth. She had delighted in his secrets, though she didn’t understand them all, and wanted nothing more than to stay by his side forever. Time has a way of changing minds though, and when she had spent 80 years with him, young, never changing, she grew to hate living with herself. She cast herself into the hearth fire while he was out gathering dinner.
Jakise came seventh. Sorgaire Highland and nearly as lovely as Icanth. Her mind was sharp and it was hard to make her smile. But getting her to do so was a far cry more rewarding than the easy smiles of Morah, Arah, and Sye. She claimed not to want to know his secrets, only to know him. This was a novelty, and he agreed to it, keeping his work to himself on her promise not to mind if odd things happened. She was curious about not aging, but didn’t complain. She went out one evening to gather watercress from the lake nearby. He never saw her again.
Melanie. Ah, his precious Melanie. The eighth and such a perfect embodiment of the Wood he could not have even dared to hope for. Morbid in her curiosity, raised in a Corvie’s Warren, she thirsted for knowledge and he gave it to her. She also thirsted for him, which made their connection all the stronger. She liked his studies, he even let her see the others, the pictures he had painted of them and told her what they were like. Her eyes were a deep crimson and her silver mane spilled over her shoulders. When she cried, it was as though she were bleeding. She had informed him up front that she would not be living beyond her normal years, but that she would live them until her body was exhausted for him. He delighted in her and kept her close. She grew old well and finally died in her sleep, the only one to do so. He took her out in the Wood and laid her out specially, the way she had wanted. Aging her to an impossible number for her body, and watching her death glorify in it.
And now there was Ellen. Dear Ellen, she was a good ninth. She had stumbled upon him by accident, and he had kept her out of a lonely desperation. She was more a friend than anything else, but a friend was a novelty. She had requested to go when it was time, but she was cheerful about it, saying she’d stay around until he found himself someone else. One of the most thoughtful things anyone had ever said to him. She would stay until he found another, then move on.
He’d never had more than one Doe at a time.
One day, one of them would be perfect.
One day, there would be one he wouldn’t have to let go.
One day, he might even go with her.
If he could just forget.
If they could erase Alice, if any Doe could ever hope to erase Alice.
And teach him what love really was.
15. Flavor: Cauter/Souris
Money had a taste to it.
Literally as well as figuratively.
It tasted like shots, like a night on the town, like amiable women, like chocolate cake, like someone to sucker punch, like a friend.
It was the best taste in the world.
But there was a bad tang in there now.
Money couldn’t keep people where they didn’t want to be if they didn’t care about it as much as you do.
Cauter was finding this out.
Why had she gone?
Souris.
He hadn’t seen her since, though there had been other women, and some men. Some even more beautiful than her, but none quite so intriguing.
Yarrows.
He would snort, take that as an answer and forget about her for another few days before the bad taste cropped up again.
Stupid really, to moon over a girl you don’t know, when others are happy to get to know you for a cheap price. Anything can be purchased, anything can be traded, even feelings, he’d purchased and sold a few. Spending so much though...
The expensive girls are such a risk...
Never a good return investment, or so he’d heard. Why should he bother?
Why couldn’t he forget?
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Hope it wasn't too long. It all just snapped at me. Thanks for the outlet, guys.
~Nathalia
