Origins

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Origins

Post  Andromeda on Thu Feb 03, 2011 7:48 am

Glimpses of the pasts of my characters.
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Amon

Post  Andromeda on Thu Feb 03, 2011 8:31 am

A sound. Some sound had woken Amon, and he strained to hear it again. All was silent. He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Cassie across the room. She would be scared of the quiet and the dark, but Amon feared nothing. He knew storybook monsters weren't real. He walked silently down the hall to his parents' room, looking for the sound.

At first he couldn't see anything; his parents didn't sleep with a light. As his eyes adjusted, however, he suddenly became aware of a stranger standing over the bed where his father lay, unmoving. He started to step forward, uncertain, but stumbled and fell, and only his power kept the soft thump from being noticed. He froze where he landed, because he found himself staring directly into his mother's eyes. Something dark dripped from her lips. She was in pain, and as the stranger walked over to her she struggled to mouth 'Run'.

Amon didn't remember leaving, but suddenly he was back in his own room, shaking his sister awake. "Cassie get up, up Cassie, we gotta go!" he whispered frantically. Sleepy-eyed and clutching her elephant plushie, she followed him without question to the doorway. Listening, he could hear the stranger still in their parents room; but there was someone else in the house, coming up the hall towards them. Amon quickly turned around and pulled Cassie into the closet, shutting the door behind them.

This wasn't the normal closet they used for Cassie's clothes. Amon's daddy had built this one especially for him, and told him to hide there if any strangers came into the house. Amon was their special secret, he said. When this closet was closed, you couldn't see the door from outside. All of Amon's things were stored in the back. In the front they hung clothes they didn't need much, and Amon could feel some of his mother's fancy dresses brushing against him where he sat. He tugged until some of them fell, and used them as blankets for himself and his sister. As long as they stayed here quietly they'd be hidden and warm, and Amon felt safe; until his sister started to cry.

"Ssh! They'll find us!" Amon whispered. "No noise Cassie!" But she was young and confused and frightened, and she wanted her mother. Desperate, Amon pulled her close and put his hands over her face to block the noise. She struggled and cried harder, but he was too afraid to let go; she stopped crying, and stopped fighting, and still he held on until he realized she was too still.

She was asleep. She'd just gone back to sleep, he hadn't hurt her, he would never hurt her. He pulled Cassie into his lap and draped the dresses over them, trying to fight off the chill he felt on her skin. She'd be alright. They'd all be alright. Mommy and Daddy would wake up soon and get rid of the bad people and come for them. All he had to do was hold Cassie and keep her warm, and stay quiet. He'd have his family again, as long as he could stay hidden and not make a sound...
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Chase

Post  Andromeda on Thu Feb 03, 2011 8:40 pm

Chase laughed as he jumped out of the way of a ball. He had been sick for the past week, and even before that he was rarely strong enough to participate in gym class. Even now, his father would be angry if he knew Chase was playing dodgeball. He didn't care; he was only 13, and it wasn't often he got the chance to just act like a kid. He was willing to take the risk.

He grabbed the ball he'd avoided and threw it across the room; and the first sign that something was wrong was when it ended up in the complete opposite corner from where he'd been aiming. He was dizzy, confused. His vision started to blur, and he didn't see a second ball coming until it struck him in the chest. He could hear kids yelling that he was out, he had to go to the benches; and then they stopped suddenly, as he collapsed on the floor and trembled violently.

Kids were yelling for help, the teacher was running for the phone, and all Chase wanted was to disappear. He didn't need clear vision to know the fear and pity in everyone's eyes. He waited patiently for the paramedics - he was used to this, after all - and wished for the umpteenth time that he could just be healthy and normal.

Suddenly, he felt someone grab his shoulder and shake him. A blond blur was sitting beside him. "Come on, that's no way to act just because you lost." He recognized the voice of the new kid, Locura. "Is it comfy down there?" The other boy flopped onto the floor next to Chase. "Nope, not comfy at all. Maybe if I get a wrestling mat. You don't get one, you picked the floor. How come the mats don't come in purple? Everything should come in purple, including people. Did you know there's a song about a monster that eats purple people? So they must exist somewhere. I'm going to find them one day..."

The other boy rambled on about nothing until the paramedics arrived, then got annoyed at them for interrupting the dodgeball game. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that anything was really wrong. As Chase was loaded into the ambulance, he heard the blond call out "See you tomorrow!"

It ended up being 4 days before he could return to school. He was eager to find Locura and thank him for staying at his side and talking to him. As soon as their eyes met, however, the other boy fell to the ground in a mockery of Chase's collapse and giggled up at him. "You looked really dumb."

Chase felt tears in the corners of his eyes. He turned and ran away quickly, bumping into another classmate who shoved him roughly away.

"Get off! I don't know what's wrong with you, but I don't want you infecting me. I'm not gonna make a fool of myself like you always do." The other student started grabbing his chest and panting, mocking an earlier attack, while his friends laughed. Suddenly the boy doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach. Bizarrely, it seemed someone had thrown a wooden squirrel at him. Locura appeared from behind Chase, brandishing a matching squirrel.

"Hey! He's mine! Only I'm allowed to tease him. Get your own." The other students didn't know what to make of this petite blond in bunny ears threatening them, but when he jumped up to swat one of them on the back of the head with his squirrel they decided to back off. Once they were gone Chase turned to Locura, who was stuffing the figures back into his backpack - which appeared to contain everything but schoolbooks.

"I'm yours?"

"Yeah. You're cool. Come on, buy me breakfast." As this strange boy dragged him toward the cafeteria, Chase smiled. He had been sick since he was just a baby. He'd been in and out of hospitals so much that he'd never really had a friend. Surely his father would say this was the wrong sort of person to hang out with, but he was willing to take the risk.

'I'm his.' He was ok with that.
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William

Post  Andromeda on Wed Feb 16, 2011 9:10 pm

William had been stuck at work when he heard the news. In a meeting with the high priest of Hephatin himself, arguing for a higher safety budget for the mines he oversaw. You don't leave a meeting that important for anything. By the time he reached the hospital he was sure the birth must be over, and all he could think of was holding his new child in his arms.

He was too late.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he reached the room. It was too quiet. Mothers were never left alone after childbirth; they were surrounded by people congratulating them and swooning over the baby. He saw only Lily in the room. As he drew closer she looked up at him, with tears on her cheeks and a horrible emptiness in her eyes.

"She was beautiful. Now she's gone. She glowed, Will. Lit up the room." It wasn't a metaphor. Their baby had been a heretic, and was killed before he even saw her face.

Lily didn't take the loss well. Most of the time she wandered the house in a daze. Occasionally she would clutch 5-year-old Nadia to her chest and break down sobbing. No one was surprised when she threw herself into the sea.

One night, not long after the funeral, Nadia climbed into her father's lap and asked if it was her fault Mommy died.

"Of course not!" exclaimed William. "Why would you think that?"

Nadia sniffled. "I told her a bad secret. It made her cry, then she went away and died."

The icy claws of fear tightened around William. "What secret, Nadia?" She looked uncertain, so he forced a smile. "It's ok, Dewdrop." It pained him to use Lily's pet name for her. "I promise I won't die, and I won't ever leave you. What's your secret?"

She bit her lip. "Sometimes, when you sleep, I watch your dreams."

Later, he would ask her what she meant and learn the details of her power. For now it was enough to know that she could do what no one else could. She was a heretic. He hugged her tightly, hoping she couldn't feel him shaking.

He pulled back enough to look her in the eye. "Listen to me, Nadia. You can't ever tell anyone else what you can do. No matter what. It's our secret, understand?" When she nodded he pulled her close again and murmured, more to himself than her, "For now it's our secret. But one day things will be different. You won't have to hide your gift forever. I won't let you lead a life of fear. I promise, I will do whatever it takes to make a better world for you."
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Zephyr

Post  Andromeda on Wed Mar 02, 2011 8:54 pm

Zephyr raced along the busy streets, away from the store, his arms loaded with sandwiches. The others had headed into the alley, but he'd been cut off. Now he was alone, with soldiers close behind, and it wouldn't be long before people decided to help them and he was swarmed. He had to get off the street.

He ducked between two buildings and encountered a fence barring his way. Trying to concentrate, he willed himself up and over; he made it, but his foot caught on the barbed wire at the top, and by the time he hit the ground he was missing a shoe and his ankle was bleeding. He limped behind one of the shops and had a moment to catch his breath, but it wasn't long before he heard a commotion through the back door and knew the soldiers were coming through. He ran on.

Now he was lost. He had almost given up when he heard water up ahead. The river divided the city; the other side was the industrial district where his gang made their home. If they were separated, they had planned to meet at the smallest of the three bridges and drive off any soldiers who followed with their combined talents. Zephyr just had to reach the bridge and he'd be safe.

Finally, he saw it up ahead. He didn't think he could have run much farther; his ankle hurt, and something sharp had pierced through his sock into the tender arch of his foot. He stumbled to a halt on the far side, leaning against a wall and trying to guess where the others were hiding. In seconds the soldiers were on him.

He called for help. No one came.

He had only one chance. Someone must have seen him use his ability in the store; the soldiers wouldn't have pursued a common thief so persistently. He was dead if they caught him anyway, so he might as well show them just what he could do.

He let go of the sandwiches, which hovered in midair for a moment then flew at the heads of the surrounding men. Instinctively they turned away and shielded their faces, allowing Zephyr to slip out of their reach. One by one, the large rocks bordering the water pulled out of the ground and launched themselves at his enemies. With them thus distracted, he ducked around a corner out of sight; and ran right into a pair of additional soldiers. Before he could react, one of them clubbed him in the temple and knocked him out cold.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Zephyr sat on the dirty floor, his hands tied together in front of him. Everything he might use as a weapon had been removed from the room, including the table and chairs. His cuts were burning, his head throbbed, and he found it very hard to focus until the man in front of him suddenly stomped hard on his swelling ankle.

"What! Is! Your! Name!" the soldier demanded.

"Valen Thicke," replied Zephyr sarcastically, naming the villain from a popular TV show. If the soldier caught the reference he didn't mention it.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen." He had actually just turned fifteen, but people always had trouble judging his age - thanks in part to his shaggy, naturally grey hair - and pretending to be older made him feel a little more capable of handling this.

The soldier loomed over Zephyr, making him feel very small, and suddenly he felt that lying to this man was a very bad idea. "Well, Mr. Thicke," and he was mocking Zephyr now, using the accent of the show's hero, "how would you like to live to see nineteen?"

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Zephyr limped into the gang's hideout, a factory that had been gutted by fire and was still waiting for repairs. Cady, an orphan a few years older than him and one of the few non-heretic members, was the first one to notice him.

"Zephyr! Where've you been? When you didn't make it back we thought the worst had happened." He couldn't respond, or even meet her eyes. He just stared at his hands, and began what he'd come for.

Across the room, Leon began to gasp and cough, clutching at his throat. He was the best hand-to-hand fighter in the group. Soon Isme was affected as well; she could generate electrical shocks strong enough to stop a heart. All around the room, one or two at a time, the most dangerous members of the gang were choking to death as an invisible force crushed their throats.

Horrified and frightened, Cady was distracted from Zephyr's miraculous return. No one else had even had time to notice him. Once the biggest threats were dealt with, he quietly slipped back outside to where the soldiers were waiting. Two of them grabbed him immediately, placing him in electronic cuffs that required a secret code to open, so he couldn't free himself. The rest stormed the factory. No one inside was left alive.

Zephyr was shaking violently. He sank to the ground, not trusting his legs to support him any longer. He could hardly bear to think about what he'd just done. When the leader passed by, Zephyr clutched at the cuff of his pant leg and stared plaintively up at him. "You said if I helped you'd let me go."

The man kicked him off. "I said I'd let you live, and I will; for as long as you continue to be useful." He grinned cruelly. "You will obey my every order. You will hunt, catch, and execute every single heretic, until you're the only one left; and then, maybe, I will let you go free. There is no life for you now except as our tool. Do you understand?"

For a moment Zephyr thought he might pass out. He felt weak, sick at the thought of what was being asked of him. Killing innocent people, just because they were like him. But what choice did he have? He was afraid to die. He got to his feet, awkwardly because of his bound hands, and nodded, never taking his eyes off the ground.

"Yes sir."
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Tess

Post  Andromeda on Sat Jun 11, 2011 10:15 pm

A tall figure glided through the market, unseen by the crowds around her. She hesitated in front of a stall selling exotic fruits, wondering what they tasted like, but had no way of finding out. She drifted on.

Someone here was going to die. Like all reapers, she could sense when someone around her was near death, and she was always aware of where in the world the others of her kind were. She was the closest, so it fell to her to collect this soul.

She sensed that she still had time to kill - and cringed inwardly at her unintentional pun - so she stopped to admire a woman dancing for money. The dancer was an exotic beauty with shining golden eyes, and surely would have screamed to see the monster in her audience. Not for the first time, the reaper was thankful that she was invisible. With a skeletal frame, matted white hair down to her ankles, and bone-hued skin where her eyes should have been, she was a figure from a nightmare.

Other reapers didn't long to be seen, or fear what would happen if they were. Such feelings were forbidden. Emotions would only interfere with duty, and so this reaper had to carefully hide the fact that she had begun to care about those whose souls she took. She had had many years of practice, so when she passed through the market to the site of the coming death and found a child at play, She gave no sign of the dismay she felt. She simply leaned against a wall and turned her mind's eye away, forcing herself to ignore the child. She didn't have long to wait.

A bull, maddened by disease, broke the cart he was pulling and took off down the street, trampling anything in his way. Focused on the animal, no one noticed the little boy paralyzed by fear. The beast drew near, lashing out at any who got close, deadly hooves about to shatter the child's skull...

When suddenly the dancing woman half-ran, half-tumbled across the road in front of him, coming to rest safely out of the way with the boy clutched to her chest.

She had abandoned her dance abruptly and headed in the boy's direction even before the bull broke loose. When asked how she knew there would be trouble she had no answer; until she passed close to the reaper and murmured "Where your kind goes, trouble follows."

The reaper was frozen in shock. This woman could see her! A handful of animals possessed the ability, but no human ever had. Though she knew the rest of her kind would disapprove, she had to find out more. She discreetly followed the dancer home and looked in through the window at her, getting another surprise when her form shifted to that of a humanoid cat.

The catwoman glanced out the window she'd forgotten to cover and froze, nearly as shocked to be seen in this secret form as the reaper had been. Finally, she motioned the other woman inside. They stared at each other in silence for a long time, each seeing in the other something they had not wanted to admit to themselves they felt: loneliness.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

The catgirl was named Sanura. Her human form could only be sustained for a few hours, so she would wander the market and dance and pretend to belong before going home to spend the rest of her time alone. Secretly she had longed for someone she could show her true self to. The reaper, too, had wished for someone who could see her and not judge her as the rest of their kind did. Though they didn't plan it aloud, she began simply showing up wherever Sanura was. At first they would sit together in silence, but eventually they began to speak. When Sanura wanted to change her name and leave her human past behind, it was the reaper who suggested she call herself Eris. And centuries later, when the reaper was banished by her kind for sparing a life, Eris gave her the name Tess and taught her to live among humans.

Years passed. The world changed around them. Kingdoms rose and fell, triumphs and tragedies surrounded them, and all the while they stayed together and found peace in each others presence.

They were no longer alone.


Last edited by Andromeda on Thu Apr 25, 2013 5:09 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Liam and Celeste

Post  Andromeda on Tue Jan 10, 2012 6:23 pm

Liam had stayed late at the university, working on a side project. The streets were dark and deserted as he hurried home. He hesitated at the corner of Angola Avenue; there had been some gang fights on that street recently, and he wanted to avoid trouble. He ducked down a side alley instead.

In the alley even the night noises were muffled. He felt very alone and vulnerable. He half-ran through, and had almost reached the end when it struck.

It was big. Insect-like, it scuttled on six legs and bashed at him with multi-pronged tusks. What looked like a human hand jutted out between two massive fangs, fingers frozen around a gun. It was swifter and more silent than it's size would suggest, and it was on him before he could even call for help. It pinned him down with the middle set of legs and raised its upper body, preparing to strike, when -

A sword flashed, neatly severing one of the forelegs. A young woman had appeared in the alley, brandishing the blade with her one hand. She shouted at the beast, matching each word with a blow. "Give - me - back - my - ARM!" It fought back, but finally she drove the blade through its eye and it fell dead. She pried the jaws open to retrieve her arm and was walking away when she remembered Liam. "Come on. I'll need someone to patch me up. Well, get moving!" Afraid to continue on his way alone, he followed.

She led him to a small, spartan apartment in a cheap neighborhood. In the bedroom, she handed him her severed arm and a suture kit. He stared at her incredulously.

"You think I can just put it back?"

"It won't be the first time."

"What are you talking about? And what was that thing?"

She sighed in annoyance. "That thing was a demon. There are lots of them, and they kill people like you every day. Fortunately for you that one had already run into me. It took the only limb that was still properly attached, which was a really good way to piss me off. But since I happen to be immortal, it really can just be sewn back on. Take a look." She rolled up her sleeve to reveal the wound, and it was perfectly clean. She didn't bleed. Experimentally, he pressed the arm into place; the fingers twitched, and the gun fell to the floor. He'd seen enough to believe it. He took the needle and suture and began sewing her back together.

When he was done he sat on the bed and stared at her. "What now?"

"Now, I'm getting some sleep. You can go."

"But -"

"Go. I'm tired." And she shoved him right out the front door.
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Celeste lay on the floor - since she didn't have a sofa - staring at her shoulder. The guy from the night before did good work. Nice neat stitches. He hadn't freaked out, he helped her get patched up, then he got out of her life. She wished all her interactions with people could go so well. Then he burst through the door.

He looked like he'd been up all night and all day, running on adrenaline and caffeine. He thrust a pile of printed sheets into her arms. "I found one! I've been looking into mysterious deaths in the city. Recently four bodies have been found in warehouses in the industrial district. One a week. They all had weird tattoos so the cops figured it was gang related, but this could be demons, right?"

Celeste stared at him blankly. "I don't really care which it is."

"But if the pattern continues, someone else will die tonight! This is what you do, isn't it? Fight demons?"

"No. It's really not. Look, you might be right about this, and if you are it sucks for whoever the demons kill next. But it's not my problem. I just want to be left alone. So get lost."

He looked so disappointed that she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She was no hero, and why should this guy she'd just met expect anything of her anyway? She saved him because she wanted her arm back, end of story. She flopped back down on the floor with a sigh, listening to him leave. Eventually she went to the kitchen for a snack, hoping it would help her mood; and only when she returned to the living room did she realize her gun wasn't on the table where she'd left it.

"Damn it."
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
She crept through the narrow space between two warehouses. There was a nasty smell in the air, and she'd found that when tracking demons it was often helpful to follow your nose. Most of these buildings had sunroofs to save on lighting costs, so she scaled the nearest maintenance ladder and peered into buildings until she found movement.

The demon itself lounged in a massive tub of filth. She recognized the species. They could barely move themselves, so they transferred their essences into human bodies. The bodies rarely survived, however, so they had to keep trying the ritual until they found a strong enough vessel. The latest victim was a young man barely out of his teens, struggling bravely but no match for the lesser demons holding him as they conducted the ritual. Tendrils of demonic energy were already crawling up his body.

The flash of light on metal caught her attention. The guy from earlier was crouched in the shadows, clutching her gun. She stared at him, willing him to stay hidden; but apparently she sucked at telepathic commands, because he immediately leapt out and started firing.

Groaning, she smashed the glass with her sword and jumped down, yelling "Shit!" She landed in the tub of sludge and almost passed out from the stench, but at least nothing was broken. She climbed out of the tub and drove back the demons with her blade, now wreathed in a thin line of blue flame. The guy with the gun was actually doing ok; like the sword, it was enchanted to do serious damage to demons, and he was a better shot than she expected. She made her way over until they were side by side. "Give me the gun and I'll get us out of here!" she demanded.

He reluctantly handed it over, and she was about to clear them a path when the victim screamed.

The demons' master had continued the ritual while they fought. He was filling his chosen host with his dark power, corrupting the body so it had a better chance of survival. Celeste raised the gun, but the tub kept her from having a clear shot. Cursing, she ran up the steps to the tub edge, leapt across, and buried her flaming blade in the demon's skull.

An unearthly howl tore through the space as the body collapsed in on itself. The lesser demons, panicked by the death of their master, fled into the night. When it was over only the three humans remained.

The first guy helped the second to his feet. "I'm Liam. You ok?"

"Luke. I'm..." He stared down at himself. He'd been stripped to his boxers for the ritual, and they could clearly see the black tendrils that wrapped the left side of his body like an ornate tattoo. His left eye had turned blood red. "What happened to me?"

Celeste explained as briefly as possible. The demon wanted your body, so he filled it with his essence so it'd be strong enough to hold him. He's gone, but that essence is in you for life."

He stared at her. "Who are you?"

"The name's Celeste."

Liam was looking at her with something strangely like pride. "She's a demon hunter. A hero. She saved me last night, and she came to save you too."

"I did not! I came because you stole my weapon and I wanted it back!"

"You got it back. You still fought the demon. You're a hero. And now you have me to help you."

Luke was still staring at himself. "This demon essence thing, it makes me stronger?"

"Yeah."

"So I know there's monsters out there, and I have the strength to do something about it. I guess I don't really have a choice. I want to help you guys fight."

Celeste groaned and sank to the floor, while the guys chatted about what they'd need for their demon hunting operation. She did not want this, she did not want this, she did -

Liam appeared at one side, Luke at the other. They grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet while Liam grinned at her. "Luke knows a place we can set up. It sounds nicer than your apartment, at least. You'll have to teach us what you know about demons, but don't worry; we plan to pull our weight. We both want to do this, to be a part of something that helps people. So what do you say?"

She looked between the two of them, then, surprising herself, slowly nodded. Thrilled, Liam began snatching up the items the demons left behind. "These will start my research archive!" Celeste watched him collect, and Luke test his new strength against a stack of crates, and thought Maybe, just for a while, this could be nice.
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Sirinial

Post  Andromeda on Fri Aug 03, 2012 9:40 pm

(Because hey, why not show my RP characters some love too)

Sirinial stood on what had once been a great grassy plain, now a field of blowing ash. He had known. When the Yeerk began driving outward from their home cluster and the great Andalite dome ships didn't follow, he had known. His people had fallen. His world had burned.
Great grey clouds massed above him. Occasionally they would part enough for a brief glimpse of the red sky he had once known, but the suns never shone through. The nights were broken up by a twilight haze, offering just enough light for him to run safely across the dead land. He carried as much food as possible on his back; the grass was gone, but he could take human form and eat. He spent a galactic year criss-crossing the land, supplies delivered regularly by the pilot he'd hired. He hunted through every scoop he could find, picking up computers, recording devices, occasionally just scraps of paper. Finally he had to accept that it was time to leave. He had found all that he could.
The Hirac Delest. The final words of the Andalites.
He made one last stop before he left. The one he'd been putting off. It looked like any other scoop but he recognized it instantly, despite the years he'd spent away. You never forget your home. The Yeerk weapon had burned only organic matter, leaving the home and everything inside intact. Toys from his childhood still sat on a shelf. His favorite computer game was still in working order. Above a projector, a holographic image of his parents embraced a baby; he wondered whether it was an old image of him or his parents had had another child after he was cast out. He decided he wanted it either way and slipped it into his pack. He took a few other items as well: a collection of great Andalite literature, a recording of his father in the tail-fighting championships, a book on gardening his mother had read until the pages started to fall out. He went around the scoop three times, until he could no longer ignore the datapad lying in the center, waiting for him. It was his father's Hirac Delest.
It was divided into several files, created at different times. One, labeled 'A Necessary Evil', revealed that his father had been with the crew that delivered the plague to the Hork-Bajir homeworld. He had never spoken of it, and Sirinial wondered whether it was honor or guilt that bound him to secrecy. He got only a few lines into 'Marriage' before he had to close the file, trembling with unexpressed grief. The file that detailed his exile was strangely clinical; no loss or grief was confessed, but there was also no hint that his father agreed with the act. The final file bore his name, and he took a steadying breath before opening it.
'Sirinial, my son. This is the end of our world. By the setting of the second sun the Yeerk will be here, with a weapon against which we have no defense. It is unlikely that this will ever be found, near impossible that you will ever see it, but some things simply must be said.
I am proud of you. You served the People with honor, and would have made a mighty prince one day. Many knew you as Nooran's son, but I looked forward to the day I would be known as Sirinial's father. When you became vecol, it was difficult to bear. Honor bound me to stand strong against my sorrow. Now, too late, I see; I should never have let you go.
If you who read this are not Andalite, let me explain; you hold my Hirac Delest, the final account by which my life and decisions may be judged. Of all the acts contained herein, let me be judged by this, my greatest regret; that my son was cast out and I allowed it to happen. That he left and I did not follow. That my last thought must be a wish for him to know I am sorry.
I have made right everything that can be made right, I have learned everything that can be learned, I have sworn not to repeat my error, and now I claim forgiveness.
'
Sirinial remembered those words. His father had taught him the forgiveness ritual when he was a young boy. With that memory the gates of his grief were opened, and his tears watered the bare, dusty earth.
<I forgive you, father. I forgive you.>
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Mallie

Post  Andromeda on Tue Aug 07, 2012 7:20 pm

Mallie lounged in her castle, sipping tea and considering the news presented by her enchanted looking-glass. "A beautiful child flees into the woods to escape a murderous stepmother. A promising beginning, and the stepmother has enough power to be a significant threat without my assistance. Next." The image shifted. "A young boy cast out for abandoning his chores in favor of drawing cats. An intriguing quirk that must serve a purpose; ah, but he is approaching the rat-king's temple. His story already has its villain. Next." She winced. "Oh come on, I've already seen this one, and her prince is about to find her anyway. You just wanted to make me look at mutilated feet." She often suspected her mirror had a mind of its own - and an attitude. "Serves me right for buying used instead of enchanting my own. Now, what do we have here? Three brothers. Guaranteed the older two will be favored, and the youngest will prove himself the best and end up marrying a princess." She yawned pointedly. "Such things get so old. Next."
She froze. On the glass a prince was embracing a dirty maid wrapped in a cape of rushes. The cape fell off, revealing a beautiful gown, and they kissed. Mallie threw a spoon at the mirror and the image crackled and froze, just as their lips met. "I don't need to see this. This is an ending. Skip to the next one." Nothing changed, so she threw the tea tray next. A crack ran down the center of the glass and the image moved again, but now it was stuck replaying the moment of their kiss, and the prince's whispered 'I love you'. She shut her eyes, holding down her anger through sheer force of will. "Enough. Stop it. I said enough! I don't want to see anymore!" The air around her crackled. Mercifully, the mirror went dark.
She took a deep breath and told herself to calm down. It was stupid to get so worked up, stupid and childish. But she'd been a stupid child once, long ago, naive enough to dream of finding her prince. Before she had magic to make her beautiful, she had lain awake and imagined the man who would see past her looks to the beautiful princess within. It was foolishness; but sometimes, now, she would lay awake and think about what she would do if she could change her life. She didn't wish for a happy ending, didn't dare. She just wanted to go back to the time when she still believed she could have one.
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