Celestial's Scraps of Mind Stories.

[Celestial]

Often I come up with stories in my head that are good but I forget about them and the poor things never make it to paper (or computer, whatever). Since I have been going in decline when it comes to creative iworks, I thought to motivate myself by writing my ideas in a thread. if they're concrete like this, it means I won't forget them and maybe be pushed to writing them. And who knows, maybe I'll receive feedback from keen readers.

So, the ideas are:

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A cosmic horror story where there exists unlife- life potential which was never fulfilled due to either an ancestor or an environment dying suddenly and before its time (so, take the extinction of the dinosaurs as an example. Any descendants of dinosaurs after the meteor impact could never have been born despire the ability to be. That is wasted life potential AKA unlife). However, due to the sheer size and amount of unlife, it slowly grew into an enormous mass that seeks only to feed and expand itself. It does so by latching onto a planet and waiting until that planet is destroyed, thus exhausting its food supply as you cannot create unlife when there is no life. There is no way to make it leave a planet. It is a primitive creature which cannot be reasoned with or argued with.

Now, you would think that it would sit there like a passive parasite and it is true, it does. Life does not even realise that it is there. However, it is still an unnatural abomination and therefore, those who are intelligent may feel it on a primal, subconscious level but they will not know what it is, only that there is something in theirmind that's driving them insane. And to make things better for the creature, it is this pattern of insanity that drives beings to destroy either their own kind or the planet they live on. Its very presence helps it eat.

The stories would be set on Earth/Earth analogue and would deal with people who can feel the unlife and maybe a few about those who cannot observing them. I might introduce a superior alien race who are aware of the creature but I have no idea how I would handle them without making them a race of Mary Sues...

Yes, Celestial does read Lovecraft and this is arguably inspired by his works. There is a lot of potential to spin this into stand-alone stories and maybe adapt a couple into NT format, since it works for almost anything and I doubt I can write it disturbing enough for it to be rejected.

It was inspired by a thought about how the offspring of certain people could have changed the world and ballooned from there when combined with Lovecraftian fiction and the desire to write a cosmic horror story.

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A story about a mafia boss of (mafia branch yet unknown- needs more research. Either American, South American or Russian) and his adorable daughter who he dotes on and genuinely loves to pieces, filled hopefully with heartwarming moments and a lot of mood dissonance. The plot would follow key moments in their lives with the daughter growing up and her father wanting to protect her from knowing about what he does so that she will always stay innocent and think of him as her doting dadmand not a murderer or criminal. However, the penultimate instance would be the daughter finding out through (method yet undecided) and confronting her father. Unable to explain and not hurt her, the father lets the daughter go. She runs away.

The final instance would occur years later. The daughter comes back, along with a police squad to take down her father. They succeed and arrest him. However, in a final bid to protect their boss, the mafia hold a shoot-out with the police, during which the boss sees his daughter and, in shock at the betrayal, accidentally gets shot.

It's not a happy story. I never intended it to be. It was inspired by a song I was listening where a man was singing to somebody he loves that they will kill him. I was also listening to it while a Wiki-walk led me to the FBI's Top 10 Most Wanted list, for some reason. xD I've actually written up a small bit of it, so I might post it later.

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This is another Hathim story, which is cliche but I couldn't help but think about it. A faerie comes to Hathi,, centuries after Jazan dies, and offers to turn back time for him, giving him a life in which he did not become the Fire Guardian. Hathim reluctantly accepts (or maybe he does not. Maybe the whole story is an illusion that he sees somehow (another Guardian?) I have yet to decide this) and is transported into a life where he is back in his normal form and happy but of course, things start going wrong. Either he sees the suffering of the other Fire Guardian or some disaster happens but either way, yes, he's going to back to his role and refuse the faerie's generous offer.

This one, I'm not too sure about. It requires me to put a new twist on a cliche premise which, without a lot of thought, I cannot do. I do however, like tearjerker value, especially when it comes to Hathim. xD So this one is on the back burner for now.

More ideas might happen as soon as my brain kicks into gear. Stay tuned. ^_^

[Ginz ❤]

Ooh, Celes, your ideas are all really cool! I am a keen reader, so I'd like to share my impressions on them, if that's okay.

The first one has a really interesting concept! It sort of gave me a NaNo vibe, so maybe if next November you're out of ideas, you could try developing it. I don't know... I can't imagine it being adapted into an NT format, though. I think ding so would make it lose a lot of its potential because of all the rules you'd have to adhere to. Of course, that's just my opinion. ^^;

The second one I think is my favorite. And I guess that's unusual because I normally don't go for sad stories, but I like how the emotions on it are so strong. It's that kind of story that really gets to you and makes an impact. It looks like the most full-formed idea, and you even said you've written up a small bit of it, so I hope you find inspiration to continue writing.

The third idea does sound like something that would be perfect for the NT. I can see how it could fall on cliché, but I think the twist could be in the things you have not yet defined, like whether he accepts or if it's all just an illusion, and what exactly goes wrong. It would require a lot of thought like you said, but if you go ahead with it, I think it'd definitely be something worth reading. ^^

Good luck, Celes! =D I'll keep an eye on this thread in the future to see if you post more ideas!

[Celestial]

^_^ Yay, feedback! Thank you, Ginzy!

It's unlikely that I'll be doing NaNo this year as I want to compete for a prize that my university gives out for short stories. Since the deadline is November, I just won't have time to do both. But that doesn't mean that I can't do it another year, since the collection of stories could work as a novel. We'll see what happens. As for the NT, this originally started when I wanted to use the Mutant Acara in a story you gave me and I worked it out over time so it definitely has Neopets roots. Plus I do want to see how much I can get past the radar, as long as it adheres to the rules. x3

There hopefully will be a lot of emotions in the final draft, especially with the ending. I'm going to have to do a lot of research concerning organised crime though because I like details. In any case, I might as well post the extract I wrote. ^^ It is pretty rough though.

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“Boss.”

I turned around. Johnny was standing there, patiently waiting for me to face him. Johnny had never been the smartest button on the suit but the man knew what was good for him. Those who got too pushy with me often found themselves enjoying a delightful bullet to the brainpan. That’s what recently happened with Johnny’s predecessor, back when he tried to stage a coup against me. Well, the bullet was the thing that finished him off when he got the message. Before that, I made sure that said message was hammered and sawed into his skull.

“I take it the deal went down smoothly,” I said casually, putting down my cigar. Johnny nodded.

“All is well. There were no cops and Phil was satisfied with the goods. I noticed he had a particular liking for one of the redheads. Not surprised. She was quite a hot one. Maybe I’ll go visit her myself, if he lets me,” he said. I folded my hands over the lower portion of my face.

“As long as he buys them, it’s fine. And please, keep your thoughts to yourself, Johnny,” I growled as I looked towards the door.

“You worried that she’ll overhear us, boss?” he asked. I nodded coolly, although I still kept an eye on the door, peeking around Johnny’s large frame.

“I sent her to bed but she has a habit of wandering around the house even after that. And I’d rather I introduce you to her some other time,” I said, picking up my cigar and taking another puff. Johnny chuckled.

“She takes after her dad, doesn’t she? No respect for authority,” he laughed. That laugh was promptly cut off by a glare from me. Johnny stood silent again, awaiting instructions.

“That’s enough for now, Johnny. Go have some fun or something,” I said, waving my hand in the air dismissively.

“Daddy?” came a voice from behind the door. My heart leapt into my throat. I immediately extinguished my cigar.

“Yes, sweetie?” I called out, making a motion dismissing Johnny, giving him a glare which forbade any questions. He turned around and opened the door, sweeping past a little girl with blonde hair that curled at the end and wearing a white silk night shirt with a small unicorn sewn onto it, at her request. I watched Johnny’s face carefully for his reaction to my daughter, my hand reaching down to the drawer on my desk with a handgun inside. But he did not say or do anything, he just left. Just as well. I would not have hesitated to kill him, but not in front of her, unless he left me no choice.

Not in front of my little Veronica. She is still too young to know about such things.

She watched Johnny pass her by with her mouth hanging open, obviously unsure of what to make of this strange new man invading her life. I had hoped that they could be better introduced but if there is one thing that is hard to control, it’s the behaviour of a child you love. Mobsters and underlings can be disciplined with violence and the promise of money, I knew and embraced that. But she was too pure, too innocent and I loved her too much.

Once Johnny had disappeared down the dark hallway, Veronica focused her attention on me. She ran up to me and grabbed my hand, looking up at me with her enormous grey eyes. She had her grandfather’s eyes, only while his reminded me of steel with their harshness, hers reminded me of the fur of the silver cat he owned. Probably the only thing he showed kindness to.

I smiled and picked up Veronica, placing her on my knee. She grinned and fiddled with one of the drawers but it was locked. Just as well. I wouldn’t want her to see the documents, guns and drugs that were inside. I never used any of the drugs myself since in an environment as competitive as a mob the loss of control can cost you your life, but they were always good for paying stool pigeons and the addicts who I sometimes used as patsies.

“Why are you up, sweetheart?” I asked. Veronica turned to me and looked as innocent as possible. The light from my lamp lit up her hair, which was mussed up from lying down. It gave her a little halo, I noted with a hint of bitterness. My little angel.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, the generic excuse for any child.

“Why did you come to me instead of one of your nannies? Daddy was working,” I said in mock anger, smiling at her. I could never feel angry with Veronica.

“I wanted to see you. I wanted you to read me a story. And that big man is gone, isn’t he?” she said in the sweet, innocent voice that always accompanied a request. She knew I could never ever turn down that voice. She was right.

I threw her up in the air playfully, hearing her squeal with delight. In retrospect, that was probably not a good idea, considering it was her bedtime but nevertheless, I wanted to make her happy and I wanted to show her my love. Playing with her, spending time with her, it always helped me disconnect with what I was doing during the day.

Veronica landed safely in my arms. She was grinning ear to ear.

“Again, daddy, again!” she cried, clapping her little hands together. But I smiled and shook my head.

“No, sweetie, you’ve had enough for now. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

“I don’t wanna now,” she said, climbing up my torso to meet my eyes. I pried her off and sat her down on my knee.

“What about that story you wanted me to read you?” I asked her. Veronica’s eyes lit up for a moment but she remained silent, knowing that a story also meant bedtime. My little girl was smart. She seemed to know all of my bargaining tools. When she grows up, she’ll be quite a character.

But that is such a long time from now. She is for now, still a child. Still a little girl who loves her father dearly.

Plus I still have one trump card.

“How about you go to bed in exchange for a story and a ride on daddy’s shoulders?” I asked impishly. I still cannot believe how her eyes light up when she hears this. Even the prospect of bed does not faze her. She grins and claps happily.

The door suddenly opened and Matilda, one of Veronica’s nannies ran in. Her eyes were wild and terrified as she stops, out of breath.

“Sir, your daughter she-“ Matilda stops, seeing the girl on my knee. However, the scared gaze does not go away.

“Don’t worry, Veronica is with me. I’ll bring her down in a minute. You’re free for today, Matilda,” I say curtly. She swallows, bows and closes the door behind herself.

Poor, stressed Matilda. I have never seen her without fear in her eyes when she is around me. She reminds me of a rabbit in a fox’s den, always expecting to get eaten or otherwise killed. Knowing what she knows though, I don’t blame her. But it is hard to find good help and Matilda, contrary to her thin, nervous exterior, is a good nanny for Veronica. They do manage to find some things in common and sometimes, I hear them playing together. Despite her beliefs, I wouldn’t kill Matilda without a good reason. As long as she looks after my girl and does not betray me, she is safe.

“Come on then, sweetness,” I hoist Veronica onto my shoulders and pause for a moment as she adjusts herself around my head and gently grips my hair. She gives off giggles and squeals of delight as I stride out of my office and into the corridor. As I walk, she reaches out and tries to touch the chandelier but I walk past before she can do so. She isn’t tall enough yet.

Her nursery is in the west wing of our mansion house

As for the third idea, I was thinking it being an illusion created by the other Guardians to show him that like it or not, they do need him or maybe he meets the other Fire Guardian who took his place and sees his suffering. This being Hathim, he'd rather suffer than another person. It needs work but maybe I can make it into something good.

[Celestial]

Just got an idea for a Neopets poem that I want to do for Grey Day. It's about the Grey Faerie and the fall of Faerieland and I want to end it with the line 'I'm coming home'. The poem would first set up the Grey Faerie's isolation from her kind due to her lack of wings and how she had wanted to go back to Faerieland but could not because she could not fly. But when the fall came, she rushed back, anxious to find out how her faerie sisters would accept her. The poem would end just as she came upon the fallen Faerieland.

I dunno what brought this on. I just wanted to write a poem for Grey Day and this just struck me. ^^

[Sheik]

Sounds like a good poem! ^^ _{translation: I demand you post it the second it's written *stares you down*}

Also I'm two days late on this but the untitled snippet you posted earlier was awesome. I lovelovelove the comparison of Veronica's eyes to her grandpa's cat. <3

[Celestial]

Whee, thank you for your feedback, Sheik! I'll get started on the poem as soon as I work out what structure I'm happy with. And I'm glad you liked the snippet of the story. ^^ It's still really rough though.

Whoo, more ideas in my head!

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This would mainly be a conversation piece/character study, which I'm not sure how well would be received in the NT. Certainly, I'd have to write it well. Anyway, it takes place before the supposed wedding of Jazan and Amira, where Hathim comes into Jazan's quarters as he is preparing to get married. Hathim asks him whether what he is doing is right. what would follow is the two friends arguing about the choices that they've made and the change in Jazan's character over the last two hundred years that Hathim has finally decided to address. The prince realises that with becoming a leader trying to do the best for his people, he's becoming like his father. Hathim would ultimately lose the argument, thinking that he has no right to tell Jazan what to do when the prince has given up so much for his people but asks Jazan to treat his wife well.

This idea has been knocking around my head quite a while now but it was really set in motion by a thread on this forum concerning Neopets scrappies. I thought about the discrepancy between my versions of the Nightsteed and Jazan and the official ones. Now, I like being faithful to the source material but I established their characters before I got that scruple. So I wanted to address this. It would probably be a very short piece but I know what I want to say with it. I'd also like to explode Jazan's heritage a little, including some stuff about his mother. It should be an interesting piece to write. I like writing conflict and heartwarming friendship between these two. It would be a really talky piece (yeah, like I've never written one of those before. xD) but I'd like to see how it turns out.

[Celestial]

This isn't even a story idea. It's just a single image. Whether it is used as a premise, a motif or just a symbol, I don't care because I love it and I want to use it so bad.

The image in question is that of a blind man playing chess. Yeah, I know, silly but think of the potential!

[Celestial]

So I did the conversation piece/character study of Jazan and Hathim. I would adore some reviews, since it needs revision and polish right now. Everything is appreciated. <3

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The Nightsteed walked through the Sakhmetian palace, his flaming hooves casting shadows onto its walls. They shifted as he moved, creating a mesmerising dance that was sometimes broken by a shift in the wall’s surface. But the Uni did not see their games. His mind was occupied with other matters, namely the wedding that was going to take place tomorrow. Servants scurried past him, desperately trying to avoid the attention of what they saw as a monster. But he did not blame them. After all, he was the friend of the one who had threatened them, tormented them and was now forcing their queen into marrying him, to lift some curse that they cared not about. They had every right to fear them and Hathim was not going to deny them that. He was part of the problem.

But just because he was part of it did not mean that he liked it.

The Uni arrived at a door and knocked on it with his horn, grim determination slowly settling on his face. He did not want to confront his oldest and dearest friend. The mere fact that he needed to was already disheartening enough. But things had already gone too far without anybody speaking up. Hathim was merely the one in the best position to do so.

A servant opened the door and immediately recoiled from the sight of Hathim, like an animal that had been bitten by a snake. Jazan turned around and, upon seeing his friend, smiled.

“Hathim, come in. I’m glad to see you,” he exclaimed cheerily and motioned for him to come in.

The Uni walked in, not making eye contact with either Jazan or the servant. The Prince’s expression dimmed a little.

“What’s bothering you? Tell me,” he said, putting a little authority in his voice. Hathim broke his shyness and looked his friend right in the eye. He was not hostile but neither was he friendly, like a cloudy sky.

“Do you want me to say it bluntly?” the Uni asked quietly.

“Yes,” Jazan commanded. Hathim’s ears flattened briefly but the prince registered the action. He stiffened.

“Jazan, I know you’ve done a lot for us and I know how difficult these two hundred years have been. I can understand that you’re desperate to rid the kingdom of the curse and I know this is the only way. But...”

“But?” the Kyrii folded his arms. “Say it, Hathim.”

“I do not believe that forcing Amira to marry you is right.”

Jazan looked away from the Uni and muttered under his breath. He sat down in a chair and glared at the servant, who was hanging around fearfully, his face not hiding the conflict between curiosity and fear.

“Leave us,” Jazan hissed. As if dipped into cold water, the servant immediately assumed a face full of fear, bowed and left. The prince turned back to his friend. Their gazes met and both maintained eye contact. The room filled with friction.

“I am concerned with the restoration of my city and my people to the real world, to get them out of the limbo they have been living in. It is my duty as ruler to look after my people and do what I can to ensure that they are happy and prosperous,” Jazan finally said, the words coming out as though they were drilled into him.

“At the expense of another city?” Hathim retorted. The prince scowled.

“If that is what it takes, yes. Besides, once I am king of the two kingdoms, I can make them both happy. I will have more power and more resources. Things will be better in a larger kingdom under my rule.”

“And what about Amira? Have you thought about her?”

“Why should one person matter when kingdoms are at stake?”

“And why not? That person can feel. They have a life like you and me.”

“It is all for the greater good.”

The Uni’s head lowered. He looked up at the prince, whose eyes were red like sand dyed by the setting sun and the contours of his face marred by a scowl, a scowl that had grown to fit him too well these days. For a brief moment, Hathim thought of a time when it did not, a time when his friend actually smiled.

“I know it is, Jazan. But there must be better ways to get her to marry you. Or failing that, marry another princess of Sakhmet,” he pleaded. Jazan shook his head violently.

“There is no other. Amira is our only chance. We have waited long enough. It is time for Qasala to regain its former glory, no matter what the cost.”

“So you really don’t care?”

“I cannot afford to. The glory of the city is what is important in the end. People die. The city lives on.”

Hathim’s eyes widened. It finally sunk in.

“When did you become this cruel, this cold?” he asked quietly. Jazan glared at him.

“Unlike you, Hathim, I had to be in charge of a dead kingdom. You have to learn these things when you are in a situation such as mine.”

The Uni paced around the room, unsure of what to answer. He had tried to be there for Jazan but he could never share his burden fully. That was an undeniable truth. But he had not noticed the change in Jazan’s behaviour, not seen how much the responsibility was really eating at him. It was too late to be angry at himself but Hathim couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry, Jazan. I really am. But-”

“Again with buts?” the prince looked at his friend incredulously.

“A truly good ruler is never so cold. They would always try to find a better solution, one which involves making nobody suffer, one which does not involve threats or fear.”

Jazan’s hand clenched into a fist. Hathim’s wings stood up, anticipating an attack. He did not know what the prince could do if enraged enough. In the state he was in, stressed and angry, Jazan could easily lash out, even at him. All that the Uni could do was not lose control, to keep himself from hurting his friend.

“And do you think we have the time to find it, even if it exists? I would rather take the chance I have. And as for Sakhmet and Amira, they will just have to learn to like it,” he hissed. “Besides, what do you know about what being a truly good ruler is? You were born a low commoner!”

Hathim flinched. He did not remember the last time that Jazan spoke about him like that. He gritted his teeth.

“Because, Jazan, commoners are the ones who actually have to live with a ruler. And in the case of a bad one, the ones who suffer,” he said, struggling to keep the edge out of his voice. This was getting too personal.

“And you actually suffered in the hands of a bad ruler?” Jazan asked sarcastically. Hathim’s face darkened. The fire in his hooves flickered. Remembering for him was painful and while the rest of his memory was dimmed, this one was crystal clear.

“My mother died of disease. She wasn’t strong enough to fight it. There was not enough food because your father decided that starvation was best for his people.”

Jazan’s eyes suddenly became clearer. His body relaxed and he shook his head a little. While there was still an angry streak in his demeanour, the Uni’s words had shaken him a little.

“I can’t believe I forgot about that, Hathim. I’m sorry. I guess...I just need to clear my head before the wedding,” he said in an apologetic tone. The Uni spread his wings and looked up into the prince’s eyes.

“Jazan, one more thing bothers me,” he said and hesitated, trying to recall the memory of the distant past, back when they shared stories together. The memories came reluctantly, like terrified animals being led out of a pen. Finally, he managed to assemble the few scraps he had into one relatively clear narrative. It had been a long two hundred years.

“Your mother...wasn’t she also married to your father for political reasons?”

Jazan sat down. His eyes acquired the thousand mile stare of reminiscence. Finally, he nodded.

“Yes, so?”

“You told me once how much she hated your father, how much they argued, how much anger she showed towards your father over his extreme desires for the kingdom.”

“Yes, I suppose that was true. What are you saying?”

“If you marry Amira, don’t you think history will repeat itself?”

Jazan shook his head vigorously and looked up at Hathim, a renewed anger blazing in his eyes. His pupils were dimmed by red light.

“I am not my father, Nightsteed.”

Hathim kept his cool and met the prince’s red eyes with his own.

“You look like him to me,” he said, his voice cold and unrelenting as permafrost.

Jazan could do nothing but stare in horror. He sat down in a chair in the room, clearly deflated by this statement. Hathim could almost hear the prince’s mind trying to process the words that he had just heard. Guilt crept in like sand into a sandal. He knew he was right and Jazan needed to hear the truth about his actions. But nevertheless, hurting a good friend was never easy, nor was it something that the Uni liked doing.

He wanted to speak, to say words of comfort. But everything that came into his mind never seemed to convey his thoughts, as though it was the pale imitation of a beautiful landscape captured by a bad artist.

Hathim turned around and walked towards the door. It swung open and he stepped out, feeling the wind rush down the corridor and yank his mane.

It felt wrong to leave without saying something, even if he could not form the myriad of images and ideas into words.

“Jazan?” he said without looking up.

Only the Kyrii’s ears betrayed the fact that he heard his friend’s voice.

“I’m going to do this Hathim. I have no choice,” the prince muttered. Hathim bowed his head.

“Alright. But, promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

Hathim turned around and gave his friend one final, firm glance.

“Treat Amira well,” he said gently and walked out, his hooves clicking mournfully against the stones of the palace.

They had a big day ahead of them.

[Celestial]

Ok, so I've been writer's blocked for a while now. But I am going to make an effort to write more, since now I have a few ideas.

Also, I've started a Pokemon fanfic. Look, when you're as blocked and frustrated as I am, you take any idea you have that you're actually satisfied with and roll with it, no matter it's origin. Also, the fanfic is a work in progress so there will be more. Feedback is appreciated.

Now for original ideas, of which I have a a few. First of, one I should have posted long ago, although right now I have no idea what to do with it, even though I've written out some of it.

SPOILER: Click to show

There is a very long-standing agency of assassins based in London which hires almost exclusively women, with the exception of some males. The majority of the assassins are from families which have been serving the agency and have trained the daughters who are willing and show potential since they are very young children. They cater to the rich and powerful, either killing their enemies or protecting their employer, helping to grease the wheels of power which shape the country.

The families are: Harris, Adler, Gosset, Perry, Rufus and Ferris. There are also a few separate contractors which do not belong to any family. Each familiy has a specialty and a quality which differentiates them from the others so that the customer gets an assassin tailored to their needs. Harrises are more socialable all-rounders, Gossets are less social but more agile, prefering close combat. Adlers are sociopathic aces, excellent at their job but they need to regularly kill otherwise they can easily turn on their employers. Perrys are expert snipers but jittery and paranoid. Rufus are very bloodthirsty and more wild-card but they are almost as efficient as an Adler without the need to kill. And Ferris specialise in difficult terrain and bare-handed killing, although they are not as efficient as the other families.

The story proper begins when a minor arisocrat, Lord Sebastian Randall, a lazy, fairly stupid man has several attempts on his life, the latest of which was clearly a warning. He is told by a friend to go to the Agency and hires a certain Miriam Harris. She prevents further attempts on his life while criticising him (just because they are employed by people does not mean they are subservient. The relationship is built on cooperation between employer and employee, because both need each other and if an employee isn't satisfied, they have plenty of other clients). Together, they uncover a conspiracy, the nature of which I am unsure of just yet.

The families are all based on birds of prey and the descriptions of each bird that my hawking teacher has provided of each bird. Other than that, the plot is non-existant but I do like the concept.

Now for a very, very new one (literally thought of this morning).

SPOILER: Click to show

A spineless man who has lost his job and gone through a very bitter divorce meets two women: one of which is incredibly beautiful and almost flawless in most areas, save for being insane and manipulative, the other a much less attractive (still pretty but in a much more average way) and has realistic flaws but is much kinder and shows no interest, unlike the other woman, in using him. Basically, the former's draw is her perfection, the latter's is the fact that she's respectful.

Well, the former is also a demoness who using his spinelessness and her apparent perfection to have him summon her true powers into this world so she can be free. The man will have to grow in strength with the help of the respectful relationship if he wishes to survive.

Basically, I want practice at writing developing romances and also maybe criticique impossible expectations. And hopefully it won't be as silly as it sounds.

Like I said, when you're as blocked as I am, you take what your muse gives you. xD

[Tiger]

=D I really, really, really love the sound of the assassins idea. Assassins and specialized groups and raptors and strong ladies...that sounds like a really cool idea!

[Deleted]

Birds of prey are so awesome! /)^3^(\ And assassins and intrigue and incompetent lords? If that isn't the definition of cool then I'm afraid to know what it actually is. Wait, that makes no sense. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!

<3

[Celestial]

^___^ Eee, thank you, Sarn and Tiger!

I guess this is a good time to mention I've written some of it, huh? Mind you, I haven't introduced Miriam yet so there are no kickbutt ladies yet so enjoy the fail that is Sebastian. xD Miriam is coming very soon.

SPOILER: Click to show

London is a big city, full of powerful and influential people from many different backgrounds. Some are rich through their own merits, some from the work of others, some by chance and some for no good reason. It does not really matter though how they got rich. The point is that they can take life easy, have people cook for them, clean for them, manage their fitness programs, wax their legs, kill their enemies, the usual chores that those with money can ignore.

The killing is especially important. Everything else can be taken care of some other time but the work of killing is always pretty urgent. The enemies of the rich are not idle, not in the high-stakes game that their kind indulge in. Idleness is deadly sin. Kill your enemies or stop your enemies killing you; those are the only moves in the game that will let you keep playing. Of course, money is the key in making the moves. Anybody who is important knows where to channel their money.

Unlike a good cook or a good maid or even a good personal assistant, a good assassin is a much harder commodity to come by. But there is always an enterprising businessman who can take care of everything if you pay him.

That was the reason that Lord Sebastian Randall was unsure of whether he should have that drink or not. As much as he wanted to dull his nerves, he knew he needed them if he was to survive. A few days ago he would have drunk to his heart’s content but today, even with two big brutish guys standing over him and watching every move the guests around him made, he felt very vulnerable.

All because of some random guy who had come at him with a knife yesterday, overwhelming both of his bodyguards at once through some kind of daredevilry.

“Hey, Sebastian, my old chum!” came a cry from behind Sebastian that almost caused him to drop his glass. His bodyguards whirled around, obviously looking for a way to restore their hurt pride from before, only to stand down when they saw Frederick Murray. Sebastian smiled weakly, recovering from the shock.

“Hello, Fred,” he said weakly, drowning the glass he was holding in order to calm his shaking. Frederick sat down beside him, nibbling on the olive from his martini.

“You look like a bomb just went off next to you! What happened, have you forgotten me after just a few days since I saw you. Still the same old death threat?”

Sebastian looked away in the direction of the window.

“It is worse, Fred. They came after me directly. It is no longer letters now, whoever wants me dead sent me a warning directly. He evaded my bodyguards so easily and toppled them like they were made out of dry leaves.” Sebastian shivered “God, Fred! It was not even like he saw the two men built like concrete pillars in front of him, he just hit them seemingly by accident but with such precision. I was at his mercy, just standing there like an archery target. The only reason I am still alive was because the man just did not want to kill me. All he did was give me a knowing look and disappeared into the gathering crowd, leaving my bodyguards in the dust. It was a message and not one along the lines of ‘please drop in for tea at four o’clock’ and-”

“Jesus, Sebastian, calm down. I have never known you to rant at anybody like that,” Frederick said, putting the now barren cocktail stick back into his glass. “This whole thing is really getting to you that much?”

Sebastian nodded, embarrassed at having spilled out so much. He decided not to take any more drinks. All the talking had drained him of energy. He slumped in his chair.

“Listen, Seb...have you ever heard of ‘The Talent Agency’?” Frederick asked in a much more subdued tone. Sebastian shook his head. Frederick grimaced and got up.

“If you haven’t, come to my car after the party is over. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Why should I care about some talent agency? I’m not looking for investments right now, Fred, I just need to save my skin.”

“They’re the people for the job. Trust me, Seb.”

Sebastian looked up. His mind began to be invaded by ugly thoughts.

“How do I know I won’t die if I do?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. Frederick rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Christ almighty, Sebastian, what motive do I have to kill you? You can bring your boys if you wish. The problem is that the Talent Agency is keen on the need-to-know basis. But I believe they are the answer to your problems.”

Sebastian sat there for a while, mulling his options over. On one hand, he was afraid. After the incident with the man, he knew he had to fear everything and question anything. But on the other, Frederick was his friend and he seemed to know things that could possibly be of help. They might even save his life. Plus he did not insist he comes alone and tried to make some concessions for him to make things seem less suspicious.

He allowed himself a smidge of hope.

“Alright, Fred, I’ll come to you. On the condition you tell me everything.”

Frederick grinned and slapped him on the back.

“Of course, old chum! See you then,” he said cheerily and stood up, going over to chat with some ladies who had gathered near the buffet, picking up another glass of champagne on the way. Sebastian relaxed a little but he did not move from his chair and fidgeted nervously with the glass. He could not relax just yet. For all he knew, this Talent Agency might just be some posh club that Frederick was inviting him too.

As he promised, after the party was over and most of the guests had gone, Sebastian and his bodyguards stepped outside to where the cars were parked. He immediately saw Frederick’s black, sleek vehicle and headed towards it, making sure to always stay close to the light.

Frederick was waiting. He opened the door himself to let Sebastian in and Sebastian nervously crawled into the warmth of the front seat of the vehicle. The two bodyguards let themselves into the back seat and looked at Frederick with the keen, attentive eyes of a hawk, waiting for him to make the wrong move. Frederick laughed nervously.

“Sebastian, mind asking those fellows not to stare at me that hard? I can barely speak with them doing so!” he exclaimed cheerily. Sebastian turned around and nodded as if in agreement. Both bodyguards lowered their gazes but did not remove them. Frederick visibly relaxed.

“That’s better. Stares at the back of my head frighten me terribly. I’m the kind of man who prefers to be looked in the eye,” he said with a big smile.

Sebastian shifted nervously. Frederick’s face turned more sombre and he looked towards the wheel of the car.

“The Talent Agency...Seb, what I am about to tell you will shock you. But this is how things work. You have obviously gotten mixed up in something, even if you do not know what. It is time you knew the full picture,” he paused “Actually, more like a tiny bit of the picture but it is a vital bit nevertheless.”

Sebastian seemed to shrink and stare into space. But he was listening intently.

“Go on,” he said quietly, trying to muster some strength.

“The Talent Agency goes back a long time and has been instrumental in shaping this country’s, if not the world’s, politics and nations. They cater exclusively to the rich and powerful. Generally, those who know about them are people who have achieved a certain status in life. They are very old, very powerful and very dangerous.”

“Please, Frederick, just tell me why you think they can help. I don’t need a history lecture right now,” Sebastian said quietly, slumping over the dashboard.

“Right, of course,” Frederick replied, turning to his friend. “They are a very large, organised group who hires out professional assassins to people for whatever purposes they need them.”

“So, you’re saying that I should go to them, storm in and demand to know who is after me, is that it?” Sebastian asked, sarcasm filling his voice like slime fills a wineglass. Frederick looked at him with an amused look.

“No, Seb. You know you don’t have that in you. The Agency does more than assassins. Their people can also be hired to make excellent bodyguards. If you’re worried about your guys being overpowered by one man then one of the Agency’s girls should suit you just fine.”

Sebastian shook his head in shock, as if trying to clear his ears.

“Sorry, ‘girls’?” he asked with surprise.

“Oh yes, forgot to mention. The Agency is almost exclusively composed of female employees. I strongly suspect the man who attacked you guys was one of the few men that they hire.”

“But why exclusively women, exactly?”

Frederick leaned back in his seat.

“In my opinion, women are less conspicuous. Your boys have ‘bodyguard’ written all over them whereas a single woman by your side is more like ‘PA’ or ‘driver’ or something more ordinary like that,” he said and sighed. “I don’t know their official reason, I honestly did not ask. You won’t either, if you ask for a demonstration from any one of those women. They really deliver what they promise, trust me. I would not have my position or my life if they did not.”

“Did you ever...kill anyone?” Sebastian asked, swallowing nervously.

“God no!” Frederick exclaimed, patting his friend roughly on the back, so hard that Sebastian almost hit his head on the dash. “I simply had the girl save my skin as well as help me survive in the generally cut-throat world of business. Hopefully, even though you’re not in any kind of business, they’ll help you survive as well.”

“And how much is it?”

“You’ll be able to afford it, old money that you are. They are worth every penny, believe me.”

Sebastian turned to climb out of the car. His bodyguards had already opened the doors and began climbing out. Their faces were gloomy, as though they anticipated the loss of their jobs.

“Thanks, Frederick. I’ll think about it.”

“If you do, there is a tiny alleyway off Trafalgar square, just next to the London Coliseum. St Martin’s lane, you know where that is?”

“I’ve lived around London almost my whole life, Fred, I think I’ll find it.” Sebastian said emotionlessly. Frederick nodded.

“Alright, fine. I do hope you hire one of theirs though. I worry about you, Seb.”

Sebastian turned around and gave a small smile.

“Thanks, Fred. It is nice to know that somebody does.”

As soon as Sebastian and his bodyguards were clear of the car, Frederick drove off into the night, leaving Sebastian in the car park. The man was downcast, clearly having deep thoughts he was unused to. Finally, he snapped back into sanity briefly to hail a taxi. He did not feel like calling home to get their driver to pick him up. They were probably asleep anyway. Besides, taxi drivers did not speak as much as his driver and right now, he needed the silence.

What Frederick said was sinking in. It explained why there was a man who could overpower his bodyguards so easily. The thought of there being a legit, honest-to-god group of assassins who were trained since birth to kill powerful people was terrifying. But the question still remained: why had one of them gone after him? He was never much. He was just some earl’s second son, a guy who has never gotten involved with either business or politics. And nobody ever killed a second son for money.

He felt his thoughts dull as the taxi drove out of the well-lit London streets and into the countryside. Sleep began to overpower him, spreading through his system like a drug. Why did it matter who wanted him dead? As long as he was protected, they could come at him as long as he wanted. He was going to get an assassin/bodyguard girl tomorrow, first thing. Hopefully she would be pretty.

The next day, Sebastian went back into town. He had the driver drop him and his bodyguards off at Trafalgar square from where he proceeded towards the Coliseum. Sure enough, just before he hit the Coliseum, there was a tiny alleyway just wide enough for a person to squeeze through. They went in single file and while the alleyway did widen, they never broke that formation. Sebastian wound through the alleyway. It was only now that he realised he had no idea what he was looking for. Would there just be a sign hanging there saying ‘Assassins for Hire’? It was possible, if what Frederick said about the assassins working with the police true.

Then again, he had never heard of it before so they must be a bit more secretive. Since Frederick did not tell him anything, Sebastian figured they would be fairly easy to find. He kept walking confidently, looking for any sign of the Talent Agency.

Soon enough, he came to a metal door on which was fixed a well-polished steel plaque. On it in bold, assured font was simply written ‘The Talent Agency’. This, Sebastian figured, was the best clue he was going to get.

Puffing out his chest, he tugged at the door, only to discover that it was locked. He supposed that it made sense that an agency of assassins would not want just anyone walking in but it still annoyed him. For good measure, Sebastian pulled on the door a few more times, to no avail. One of his bodyguards tapped him on the shoulder. Sebastian spun around and prepared to defend himself but the big man merely pointed to the little doorbell beside the door which Sebastian has been ferociously attacking. Trying to keep his dignity, Sebastian pressed it. After a few seconds, a smooth male baritone spoke.

“Hello, who is it?” it asked.

“My name is Lord Sebastian Randall,” Sebastian said, mustering all his self-confidence in order to sound important. There was a clicking sound on the other end of intercom.

“Ah yes, come in,” the man said and the door clicked open. Sebastian pushed it and stepped into the building, along with his two bodyguards.

They stepped into a tastefully decorated hallway, lined with a deep red carpet and wooden panelling, interspersed with various pictures, most of them of idyllic country landscapes and old-fashioned looking people, in a way which almost seemed to evoke nostalgia. Flowers and statues stood in various strategic points to flank doors and make the hallway look less empty than it really was since aside from a table, a chair and a coat rack, all at opposite sides of the room, it was barely furnished.

It did not look like the headquarters of an agency of assassins. It looked the main hallway of the house of a poor nobleman. But it caught Sebastian off-guard nevertheless.

One of the doors opened and a dark-haired, dark-eyed, pale skinned man popped out of it and coughed politely, diverting all attention to him. His clothes, consisting of two thirds of a three piece suit and no tie, was incredibly casual but nevertheless gave him an air of formality that would have been envied by any ball or business meeting. He waited with the patience of a mountain for Sebastian’s eyes to land on him before he spoke.

“Good day, Lord Randall. My name is Robert Butler and I am the director of the Talent Agency. Please, follow me into my office and we shall discuss your purpose for visiting us today,” he said cheerfully with a small smile on his face. There was no doubt that this was the man who had answered the door. Sebastian raised his eyebrow. The man looked very young, something which puzzled him a little.

“Aren’t you not a bit young to be a director?” he asked without any trace of shame. Robert’s expression did not change.

“I recently took over from the last director, who is now retired. Don’t worry, I will grow into the role,” he replied, giving a small chuckle at the end as though acknowledging the joke. Sebastian however, did not laugh.

“Alright, fair enough,” Sebastian stated and walked into Mr. Butler’s office. Mr. Butler watched him go by and as soon as Sebastian and his bodyguards were inside, closed the door.

Yeah, not as awesome as it sounds, amirite?

[Sheik]

Jul 1, 2012 21:14:29 GMT -5 Celestial said:

Yeah, not as awesome as it sounds, amirite?

Excuse me? o.O That was exactly as awesome as it sounds, and you haven't even gotten to the epic fight scenes and such yet. Man, I could read your writing all day; it's so descriptive and flows in the most beautiful manner. ^^
And I very, very much approve of female assassin stories. *nodnod*

I mean, don't get me wrong, the other story idea sounds fantastic as well (it doesn't seem silly, to be honest. It sounds really interesting and a fun read ^_^), but ASSASSINS.

[Celestial]

<33 Oh, Sheik, you are way too kind. And yes, assassins are awesome.

Ok, had an idea for a fairly tragic story. I have no idea how I would write it (journal format?) but I want to leave it in case, years from now, I want to pick it up again. The idea is: a SETI researcher stumbled upon a signal. The signal documents the last days/weeks/months/years of a planet destroyed by war.

Remember kids, listen to TED talks. They're scientific and inspirational. =3

[Celestial]

It's been a while, hasn't it? I haven't written that much. I did the story for the competition but it didn't win, at least I haven't heard anything. I kind of like how it turned out, even though it was very talky. It was about PTSD and one guy's breakdown as told from the perspective of his drinking buddy.

But this isn't why I'm reviving this! No, what I really want to do is have a place online where to store supplementary writing I do for a Pokemon roleplay between me and my two friends. While it does require some context, in particular who the characters are, it can hopefully be read as stand-alone stuff. Since I'm not expecting people to be curious, I won't put up character bios but if people do decide to enquire, I might. For now, it's just here because I have nowhere else to put it.

Anyways, this particular one is a prelude to something I'm doing. It introduces a major villain and plot point. Also, since it was written at 5 am, I do not guarantee quality. Read at your own risk.

I'll try to write more original stuff. ^^;;

SPOILER: Click to show

Hohenheim was woken by a faint whispering. He shook his head, fluffing up his feathers in process, to clear the sleep out of his mind. The voice still called out persistently. He clicked his beak and turned to where Zlata was lying. However, aside from her breathing, she was completely still. Her thoughts mirrored her sleeping body with a vivid dream, a dream which the little Ho-oh decided not to pry into. He doubted it was a good dream though. She had not been having many of those since Giovanni’s mansion.

He listened again and sure enough, the voice called again. It was coming from outside. Fully awake now, Hohenheim hopped onto his feet and walked in what he assumed was the general direction of the voice. He strained his ears to catch the individual words instead of the sharpness of the tone.

Now that he was listening closely, he could tell that the voice was definitely older and male. He crooned softly and strained his ears to catch the reply.

The words came louder this time and Hohenheim could make out what they were saying;

“Young lord Ho-oh.”

The voice was addressing him. He frowned. Who would want to talk to him in the middle of the night and here in Kanto of all places, a place which had rejected the Tower duo all those years ago? His curiosity got the better of him and he moved away from where the group slept towards the sound of the voice.

Cautiously, he crooned again. There were footsteps behind him. Hohenheim turned around, his claws and feathers beginning to shimmer with the first signs of fire in case he had to defend himself.

He looked up at the man who had been whispering his title. The Ho-oh’s own red eyes met the blue eyes of the man. His hair was completely white and his face lined with deep, precise wrinkles. He wore a heavy long black coat and gloves but beneath it there was a glimpse of a formal white suit to match his hair.

The man kneeled down on the ground in front of him, matching Hohenheim in height. He bowed his head briefly.

“It’s alright, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk alone with you, my lord,” the man said quietly. Hohenheim clicked his beak again and looked in the direction where he had left Zlata. The man followed his gaze for a moment and looked down at the Ho-oh again with a smile.

“Oh, you don’t need to bother your Guardian for this. Let her sleep. I wanted to talk to you both alone. She’ll get her turn,” he replied. Hohenheim’s crest flattened slightly and he whistled sadly. The man kept smiling.

“Oh, you don’t need a translator. Don’t worry, I won’t require you to answer beyond a simple yes or no,” he stated and reached out his hand slowly, trying to gauge the little bird’s reaction. Hohenheim tensed as the hand touched his head but as the man stroked him gently, he relaxed slightly and sat down on the grass opposite him, looking at the man attentively to see what he had to say.

“I’m glad you trust me,” the man said, withdrawing his hand. “Now, to business. My name is Heris Valerian. I heard that one of the lords of Johto and his Guardian was here so I wanted to propose to you something I have been thinking about for a long, long time.”

Hohenheim’s crest rose again. He nodded and moved his wings slightly, getting more comfortable.

“Young ho-oh, have you heard of the Sevii island war?” Heris asked, his voice strained with painful memories. Hohenheim looked down uncomfortably before nodding. Zlata’s uncle had fought in that war. He himself had fought veterans of that war. Nothing that he knew about it was positive.

But the man opposite him seemed pleased with the answer.

“Good. Then I won’t have to explain,” he said, relief flooding into his voice briefly before he controlled himself. “All you need to know is that I was...I was the Minister of Defence during the war. I am the one responsible for it becoming the quagmire that it was.”

Hohenheim stared at him, unsure of how to react to such a statement. Heris, however, breathed a deep sigh of relief as though a great weight had been lifted off him.

“But I did not come here to confess my sins. I wanted to offer you something else. See, I have been in government for a long time. I know how it all works. I know...the kinds of mistakes that those in government make. It was only a while after the Seviis did I realise why it was that they- no, I- made those mistakes,” he continued, growing more animated as he went on. Hohenheim shifted uncomfortably in his spot. His heart was beginning to race. He wanted to run away from this strange man but could not figure out the reason why. He kept listening.

“It was the fact that they were human. They and I were motivated by selfish, human motives: greed, laziness, pride, lust, hunger for power or money, all those things. Despite being in power, they are not fit to rule a magikarp, let alone an entire country!” Heris spat angrily, his fists clenching. Hohenheim flinched, leaping to his feet. The man became aware of the little bird in front of him again and reached out his hand as he did before, stroking his head until the ho-oh sat down again.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to frighten you with my anger, little one,” he murmured gently. Hohenheim closed his eyes and nodded, accepting the apology. Heris removed his hand again.

“I came here today to ask you, lord Ho-oh, if you would be willing to govern in their stead. I believe that you could easily take over and become the absolute rulers of the regions. I - and I’m sure many others- would be happier to have a god and his chosen leading us than a bunch of corrupt, lazy idiots who only care about themselves,” he said, bowing his head and clasping his hands.

Hohenheim stared at him, trying to understand what Heris was asking. Failing that, he tilted his head and crooned with confusion.

“I see you’re not convinced but please believe me, you are a thousand times better than any human. You are a Pokémon and a legendary one too. A purer creature, one who is not prone to greed or pride, one who knows of its power but does not abuse it. You have also no doubt chosen your Guardian carefully and she is without a doubt a shining example of humanity. Even if your rule is absolute, it will not be unjust. It will in fact be for the betterment of the people. Please, trust me on this. Even your worst will be better than anything me or my peers can provide. You are a superior being so please, take up the position that a superior being deserves” Heris begged, stretching out his clasped hands.

Hohenheim shivered. With each word that the man spat out, his spine grew colder. He did not want to be an absolute ruler, nor did he believe himself to be superior to humanity. There were good humans and bad humans and he was not going to be passing judgement on all of them.

He leapt up and started frantically calling, hoping somebody would hear him. Anybody would do. Zlata, Warren, Nyx, the twins, Soise...even Ryun was preferable to this madman.

“Shush, hush, it’s okay,” Heris whispered calmingly, trying to get the little Ho-oh to be quiet. Hohenheim paused in his terrified shrieks and looked at him skeptically, unable to stop shaking.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to frighten you with my words. Please know that nothing can shake my belief in you and the Guardian but I will not force either of you to do anything you are unwilling to do,” the man said with a dejected sigh. “I had so much hope for you but I can see that you’re just a child now. Perhaps you’ll understand someday.”

Heris put his right hand into his pocket and fiddled around with something in there. Hohenheim looked at him, waiting to see what he would do. Flames licked the edge of his beak.

Heris took his hand out of his pocket again.

“I’ll leave now but...can I stroke you one last time? Just to show that I really don’t mean any harm,” he asked. Despite his fear, Hohenheim edged closer, fire burning beneath his feathers in case Heris decided to try something.

The man reached out with his right hand, keeping his thumb firmly clasped against his palm. He dug his fingers into Hohenheim’s feathers, scratching him gently. The little ho-oh relaxed slightly and moved even closer, allowing Heris to work his way down his back and around his wing. The man smiled slightly and used his second hand to stroke Hohenheim’s face.

Pain tore through his left side, just underneath where his wing feathers joined onto his body. Hohenheim tried to scream but he felt a hand clamp his beak shut.

“I’m sorry I had to resort to this. You won’t remember anything soon,” Heris whispered and withdrew his hand. There were a few specks of blood on his glove. Hohenheim’s body burst into flames but the glove holding his beak shut refused to catch fire.

He felt the pain beneath his wing dampen and his mind flood with darkness. New thoughts, thoughts of superiority which felt alien but told him that they were familiar crawled in with it, lodging into his brain and pretending that they had always been there. All his strength was used to fight them but they were stronger. It took the little ho-oh only a few seconds before they had taken him over.

Hohenheim looked up at Heris again through his new mind. Heris reached out to stroke him. Hohenheim hissed, outraged at the thought of having a human other than his guardian touch him. Yet, instead of being disappointed, Heris only took away his hand and smiled.

“You’ve changed. Good,” he murmured. The little ho-oh frowned. How could he have changed? He had always been like this. He clicked his beak in irritation and the man opposite him snapped to attention.

“It doesn’t matter. Now, my young lord, I ask you to reconsider my proposal, if you may,” he said, bowing his head. Hohenheim looked at him, watching the man squirm in front of him as he waited for the ho-oh’s response. Heris was right, most humans were quite pathetic. Perhaps they should be ruled by a better creature, one who would do much better than they would. If he had all the power that this region could give him, perhaps he could help them, elevate them. He would make them as good as his guardian.

His guardian. Zlata. Hohenheim glanced back to their camp site. He wanted them both to be humanity’s guides. She would want this as well.

He turned his back to Heris and started to walk back towards the camp site to wake her.

“Wait!” the man cried out behind him. Hohenheim stopped and turned around, giving him an impatient look.

“Let her sleep while she can. In the morning, tell her to come to my house,” Heris said, smiling warmly at the little ho-oh. “I would be honoured to have you as my guest in the meantime.”

Hohenheim clicked his beak again, looking back and forth between the man and the direction in which he was supposed to go. He thought he would know where he wanted to go and yet, he could not decide. Inexplicably, he felt loyal to this man but he also wanted to be with his guardian. H

“If you come back with me, she will definitely look for you and there is less chance of her friends tagging along,” Heris said, clearly seeing the ho-oh’ indecisiveness. Hohenheim turned around to face him and finally nodded. Having her to himself, away from the others, would be welcome.

He stretched his wings. Suddenly, a dull ache spread from a point beneath his left wing. He shifted it uncomfortably and picked at where the pain was coming from, trying to get it to go away. Heris stood up and looked down at him gently.

“I also have something for the pain in your wing. And food, if you wish it,” he said. Hohenheim chirped and folded his wing back into place, letting the pain fade away. It was only until morning anyway and he was quite hungry.

Together, the little ho-oh walked away with Heris Valerian into the dark night.

This one is just cute slice-of-life involving the kids of two of the characters from the roleplays. Why should it be anything else? I'm allowed to write sweet things sometimes.

SPOILER: Click to show

The sky was a beautiful, unreal shade of blue above the Bellchime forest when Hohenheim landed, carrying me, my family and our Pokemon on his back. Ryun leapt off him first and extended his arms to our youngest daughter, Aoko, who was tentatively trying to climb off the ho-oh’s back. He lifted her under the shoulders and set her down on the ground. Her shinx she that had named Tempest tumbled down after her and landed into a pile of leaves but leapt out almost immediately, mewling at her happily. For a moment, Aoko was prepared to wait for her siblings but something in between the trees caught her attention and she ran off to explore it so quickly that even her shinx could barely keep up.

“Aoko, be careful!” I shouted to her but I had no need to worry. There was nothing in this forest that could hurt her anyway. Besides, she did not run far, settling down on the edge of the glade and observing whatever it was that caught her interest in the tall grass. Most likely a Pokemon. Even though we had been here many times, she was still fascinated by the Pokemon that could be found here.

Ryun watched her until he was sure she was not going anywhere. Turning back to the task at hand, he reached out to Ichika but she declined his help, choosing instead to climb down him, gripping on Hohenheim feathers whenever she was about to fall. Simoon, her growlithe, not wanting to wait for its mistress, leapt off and waited at the bottom for her to get down. Hohenheim for his part waited patiently for her to be safely down on the ground, watching her carefully in case she fell but both of us knew that she would not. She far was too sure-footed for that.

Auren, my son and oldest child, watched his sister carefully, his eevee, Mesis, sitting on his shoulders. When she was finally down, he turned to Hohenheim with a mischievous look on his face.

“Hohen, would you extend your wing for me?” the boy asked. Hohenheim obliged and stretched out his right wing, letting the sun hit his feathers and paint them all the colours of the rainbow. It was a beautiful, majestic sight. However, Auren paid no attention to that and pushed himself off his back, using the ho-oh’s wing as a slide, jumping off the tip of his last flight feather and giving a small bow to nobody in particular. Ichika rolled her eyes.

“You always like to show off,” she said to him, reaching down to stroke her growlithe. Auren turned to her and smiled at her, although I could tell that it was his smile of mockery. I leapt off Hohenheim’s back before the conflict could escalate and stepped in between the two children.

“Auren, don’t irritate your sister. And Ichika, let your brother do what makes him happy,” I said to them both, turning my gaze from one child to the other as I addressed them.

“Yes mother,” they replied in almost perfect unison, bowing their heads respectfully. I smiled and stroked their hair affectionately, kneeling down to face them.

“Good. Now, off you go. Don’t get into trouble,” I said and removed my hands, letting them run off in their separate directions, their Pokemon following after them. As I thought, Ichika ran to Ryun and Auren ran to Hohenheim. He immediately stopped grooming himself and looked at the boy. He was trying to anticipate his next move. I sat down in the grass to watch them. Auren and Hohenheim playing together was always a source of amusement.
Suddenly, Auren dived under Hohenheim’s wing. He tried grab him with his beak but the boy was too fast and hid in the mass of feathers that was the ho-oh’s tail. Hohenheim stood up and dug around, pulling the laughing boy out triumphantly and holding him in the air, careful to make sure that he would not hurt himself if he fell. Auren made a big show of wriggling free from him and leapt down onto the ground and ran for the dense trees, hiding in them just out of Hohenheim’s reach. The ho-oh screeched at him in mock irritation as he tried in vain to squeeze himself through the gaps. I could hear Auren laughing in the distance.

Hohenheim, however, was not put off. He took off, catching the breeze and turning on the point of his wing in the direction which the boy had taken before swooping down and landing in one of the old trees that lined the paths that those two normally took during their games, always just missing Auren, sometimes by accident and sometimes by design.

I was not worried though. Hohenheim would never let his brother come to harm. I did not even need to watch them through his eyes. Even though they lacked the psychic connection with each other that I had with Hohenheim, they seemed to understand each other perfectly.

The pokeballs tucked into the pockets I had sewn onto my kimono shook as the Pokemon inside them longed to be let out. Happily, I allowed Mentat, Giza and Lux to come out. Yangtze would be here later and Niagara was busy looking after my clutch but those three were always perfectly happy playing with each other. Giza wasted no time lying down in the sun and turning his glittering scales up to catch the light while Lux and Mentat both turned to me.

“Enjoy yourselves, you two. It’s a good day for it,” I told them. Lux cried out happily and ran into the forest, Mentat hot on his heels. Satisfied that my Pokemon were contented, I turned my attention to Ichika and Ryun. The girl was looking up at him, trying to look as sweet as possible.

“Please father, can I at least try using River?” she begged him, clinging to the sleeve of his left arm. Ryun effortlessly shook off her grip and stroked her hair, smiling down at her.

“No. Even River is far too heavy for you to use correctly. I don’t want you to get hurt,” he replied. Ichika met his gaze, looking more determined than ever.

“I’ve been doing well in my lessons! One day I might even be better than you!” she exclaimed. Ryun laughed, confusing the girl.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, frowning. Ryun immediately stopped laughing and shook his head.

“No, no. I fully believe that. I’m sorry. But you’re so young and determined, Ichika and you still have a way to go,” he said, looking down at her kindly. The girl smiled.

“I won’t improve if you let me try though,” she said sweetly. Ryun grinned and looked up at me.

“What do you think, Zlata? Should I let her?” he asked. Ichika turned towards me as well, clasping her hands silently. I pondered the question for a moment before nodding.

“She won’t rest until she gets her wish. Let her try to lift it, Ryun,” I replied.

“Alright then, you got your wish. Take it out of its scabbard,” he exclaimed. Ichika’s face lit up as she took the sword with both hands and slowly withdrew it from its scabbard with both hands. Finally, she pulled it out and held it up to the sun, letting it catch the light.

“It’s not that heavy!” she cried triumphantly. Ryun shook his head.

“Of course not. You’re using two hands. Can’t you feel that the balance is wrong?” he asked her. “Try using just one.”

Ichika unwrapped one of her hands from the sword. Immediately, the effort of holding it up became clear. She clearly wanted to swing it but she could not.

“Let me take that back,” Ryun told her, reaching out for the sword. Ichika shook her head, even though her arm was shaking. Nevertheless, he reached out and unwrapped her fingers from the hilt of the blade, taking it away from her and putting it back into its scabbard by his side. Ichika looked down at the ground, clearly disappointed. I got up and walked over to her, leaning down to face her.

“It’s alright. You’ll be strong enough someday. You have your father’s talent after all,” I said, putting a hand on my shoulder. Ryun nodded in agreement. Ichika brightened up considerably upon hearing that.

“Could you at least show me some sword tricks for me to practice?” she asked, looking up at him with a wide smile. He nodded.

“Of course! I’d be happy to,” he replied. Ichika clasped her hands and followed her father to a more shaded part of the glade where she watched and noted his every movement.

I left them to their practicing and sat down beside a large tree near the edge, glancing over occasionally at them both. Every time I did, I couldn’t help but feel love and pride at having such a wonderful husband and daughter. Neither of them was perfect but being around them made me so happy. Even something as simple as this, sitting in the Bellchime forest on a sunny day with my family around me, filled me with joy.

“Mama, come look!” Aoko cried, tugging at my kimono and distracting me from my thoughts. I smiled at her warmly.

“What is it? What did you find?” I asked her. Aoko grinned. Tempest let out an excited mewl.

“Sewaddle! A whole nest of them!” she shouted excitedly, jumping up and down. Normally Aoko was a very quiet child but when she found something interesting, there was nothing in the world that could stop her.

“Alright, alright, calm down, you’ll scare everything away and you’ll have nothing to show me,” I replied, getting up from where I was sitting. She instantly became a lot more subdued.

“Sorry.”

“That’s better. Now, where is this nest you found? I’ve never heard of sewaddle living in this forest before. I wonder how they got here,” I remarked, smiling down at her. Aoko’s face became the very image of thoughtfulness.

“Umm...err...” she murmured, looking up at me with her sweet grey eyes, begging me for more time.

“It’s okay, Aoko, I wasn’t asking you a question. You don’t have to answer!” I laughed, giving her a hug. She gladly hugged me back and resumed tugging on my sleeve.

“Come on, I want to show you!” she cried, dragging my in the direction she had come from. I complied and allowed myself to be guided by Aoko towards the trees and deeper into the forest, away from the glade. She navigated the leaf litter and twigs carefully and I did my best to emulate her, although her small size and the length of my kimono made it more difficult. Finally, we stopped and she kneeled down behind a large shrub. I did the same.

“There, mama, straight ahead through the twigs,” she whispered to me, gazing into the distance with fascination and holding her shinx in her arms. I followed her instructions and sure enough, I soon spotted the nest she was talking about. There were plenty of sewaddle, of course, but they were accompanied by a group of swadloon, all overseen by one leavanny. They must have been here for a while and it amazed me that none of us had noticed them.

“Aren’t they lovely?” Aoko whispered. I nodded and stroked her hair for finding it, almost causing her to giggle joyfully.

We watched the Pokemon go about their daily business until a duet of roars above us signalled the arrival of Yangtze and Trident with the food for our picnic. As soon as she heard them, Aoko tore herself away from her observations and ran back towards the glade. I followed after her and arrived just in time to see Ryun and the two girls working together to spread the blankets and lay out our food. I rushed in to help them, taking off the various baskets that the two dragons had brought and unloading the various dishes that me, Ryun and my mother had made the night before. Ryun let out Dante and the houndoom proceeded to heat up anything which was better served hot.

Lunch is served. Get Auren and come back here, I told Hohenheim. In a few moments, he had appeared above us and landed, picking Auren off his back and setting him down onto the ground before we had completely finished setting up. I turned to him.

“Auren, would you lay out the cutlery for us?” I asked him.

“Yes, mother!” he replied, nodding eagerly and taking out all the cutlery from the baskets before laying it out for us. Soon, everyone had plenty of food, including the Pokemon. Giza had dug himself out and meticulously cleaned his scales before he approached his portion. Lux burst out of the woods out of breath and Mentat followed after him just as we were about to sit down and eat. Hohenheim edged in closer, positioning himself strategically between the three children to allow them to give him various bits from their plate easier.

Make sure you leave enough for them.

I always do.

There was plenty of food for everyone though. Thanks to Dante, we had steaming hot noodles with stir-fried vegetables and meat and sauce, sweet and savoury dumplings, various skewers consisting of fish, meat and vegetables, albeit not all on the same stick, vegetable tempura, sushi and rice, which we shared with the Pokemon on top of their own food. Yangtze and Trident looked up from their meals occasionally to request acknowledgement of their role in bringing it here, mainly by begging either me or Ryun to stroke their snouts. It was something we happily complied with.

Hohenheim in particular got plenty of treats from everyone, not just the children but me and Ryun as well. In exchange, when it came to boil the water for tea, he used his own sacred fire specially, making a tea that smelled and tasted wonderful, as though somebody had added a perfect amount of sugar and spices to it. Even Auren, who was never very fond of tea, drank it almost in one gulp. The tea also helped settle our stomachs after such a large meal.

After we all cleared up the leftovers and the dishes, letting Yangtze and Trident take them away again, everyone was in a wonderful mood. Mentat climbed to the top of a tree where he began meditating. Hohenheim began to preen, brushing out his feathers with his beak, carefully making sure that each one was clean and fitted together with all his others. Lux, Giza and Dante yipped and called out to Auren, Ichika and Aoko, inviting them all to play with them, an offer the children were happy to accept. Me and Ryun sat down in the shadow of a tree together, watching them all with love and pride.

The three children began discussing something amongst themselves until finally, all three approached us.

“Mother, father, can we all go play by the stream to the east with your Pokemon and ours?” Auren asked, looking at us with respect but also with quite a bit of tenacity. Aoko gripped Ichika’s hand as she waited our answer. I glanced at Ryun and then back at them.

“Well...I suppose, if it is just by the eastern stream, you could,” Ryun replied. I nodded.

“And make sure that our Pokemon stay with you. Don’t be reckless, alright?” I added, looking them directly in the eyes before turning to Giza and Lux “Look after them, alright.”

“You too, Dante. Keep them safe,” Ryun instructed. The houndoom, the sandslash and the ampharos let out a chorus of cries, acknowledging what I said.

“You worry about us too much, mother,” Auren smiled.

“I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I said, unable to keep the fear out of my voice. Aoko broke away from her sister and hugged me suddenly, followed by Auren and Ichika. I wrapped my arms tightly around them, closing my eyes and enjoying the feeling of having them so close to me.

They all let go in a few moments, waved goodbye and ran off. I watched them go for a few seconds before leaning back, resting my head on Ryun’s shoulder.

That was so sweet. You care for them deeply, don’t you? Hohenheim asked me, looking up from his preening.

As deeply as I care for you.

The ho-oh crooned happily and resumed his work. Ryun turned to me, smiling.

“What were you two talking about?” he asked.

“My family and how much I love them,” I replied. The sun was making me feel tired and his shoulder was very comfortable.

I felt his hand against my waist, supporting me in case I feel asleep. In response, I took his other hand, feeling his warmth, different from that of the sun, seep into my body. Our fingers intertwined. I looked up and kissed him on the cheek before leaning back against his shoulder and closing my eyes.

I loved them all and I knew that they loved me back.

I had never been so happy.

I never would be.

I opened my eyes and stared at the walls beneath Nyx’s mansion. My vision was darkening and the pain in my body, which has previously felt like my body had been slowly hollowed out with wire, was fading. I was going to die very soon.

Hopefully that would be the last of my dreams. I could not take any more. That dream did feel real but more poignantly, it felt genuine. I did not doubt any of it, not Hohenheim’s good nature, not the mutual love between me and Ryun, nothing. I could have so easily been as happy as I was in it, surrounded by people I loved in a region that was so prosperous and so happy that me and my family, despite my duties, could afford to take a day out just for ourselves. I could have been a better Guardian, with a loving husband and children. I would have gotten their love in return.

I would not have to die alone, killed by a woman whose friendship I burned away. Instead, I gave away everything and accomplished nothing. Nobody would cry for me when I died.

Bitter, black tears poured out of my eyes. I wished I had the strength to properly cry, to give all the grief and misery that those dreams made me feel some kind of outlet instead of letting them writhe and eat away at my mind the way the torture that Nyx inflicted on me had eaten away at my body.

Hohenheim...I whispered in my mind, calling for the only thing from my happy other future which existed in this world. But I got no reply.

I closed my eyes and let the tears flow down my cheeks, praying for death to take away all the pain.

((Put the ending in a spoiler box if you've read this far. =P))