From the Corner

Post for me: Father-Daughter quotes

2009-10-29T14:31:49Z

There was a little blurby thing on Psychology Today today with a few quotes about father-daughter relationships. They made me smile, so I'm posting them here just so I have them somewhere.

"Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express." --Joseph Addison

"To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter." --Euripides

"He opened the jar of pickles when no one else could. He was the only one in the house who wasn't afraid to into the basement by himself. He cut himself shaving, but no one kissed it or got excited about it. It was understood when it rained, he got the car and brought it around to the door. When anyone was sick, he went out to get the prescription filled. He took lots of pictures ... but he was never in them." -- Erma Bombeck

"I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection. " -- Sigmund Freud

"The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, "Daddy, I need to ask you something," he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan." -- Garrison Keillor

In other news: Metallica was awesome, Stomp was very cool, I'm excited for Wonderland, and I'm getting a new computer. October has been fantastic (and expensive) month!

Quiz stuff

2009-10-26T23:42:27Z

Originally posted by Jamie, voila my response to the role-playing character quiz!

The Role-Playing Character Quiz

-Introductory Questions-

How long heave you been roleplaying? About 3 years
What medium do you use? (ex: Dungeons and Dragons, MUDs, Live Action, hand puppets, etc.) D&D4E, World of Darkness, LARP (one time)
Who are your favorite characters? Zili, Ailith
Do you cross-play? (Play characters that are not of the gender you identify with) no
Who was your first character? Ironheart
Who is your latest character? Zili & Phia
Most Popular Character? Dunno. All my characters are so very awesome…
Which character is most like you? Phia (other than the complete lack of moral fibre, of course…)
Who would you like to be more like? Zili, indomitably happy
Who’s the character you love but haven never played? Hmm, I've played all my characters. Ironheart, maybe? She didn't live very long.

-Which character would be most likely to-

Murder someone? Uhm… Phia, Zili, Ironheart, Ailith (if they were worthy of a fight), Wrath
Have a mental breakdown? Alice
Roleplay? Phia
Do something stupidly dangerous for fun? Zili
Lay down his or her life for a stranger? Ailith
Refuse to ask for directions? Zili
Play in a band? Utau
Perform Shakespeare? Phia
Star in a horror movie? Ironheart or Zili
Star in an action movie? Alice, as the poor victim
Star in a sitcom? Phia
Star in a Porn? Zili
Star in a Videogame? Zili
Get married? Alice would have wished to, pre-asylum
Fall in love? Alice
Make the world a better place? Ailith
Regret his or her life? none!

-Word Association-

Relate each word to one of your characters.

Love: Alice
Hate: Wrath
Money: Zili
Masks: Alice
Flowers: Zili
Lies: Phia
Music: Utau
Home: Phia
Tragedy: Alice
Sex: Zili
Violence: Ailith
Black: Wrath
White: Alice
Fire: Ironheart
Ice: Utau
Hope: Alice

-The Best and the Most-

Who of your characters is the most realistic? Phia
Who is the most fun to play? They're all fun!
Who do you respect most? Alice, she's a genuinely good person
If you had a popularity contest within your group of characters who would win? Alice, via pity vote
With who’s views do you agree with most? Depends on the issue…
Who kisses the best? Phia
Who would react best to realizing he or she is going to die? Zili, since she believes she would come back; or else Utau, since she would come back, although it would certainly be a hassle
Who would react the worst? Wrath
Who would do best in school? Alice
Write out a high school transcript for your characters. (Grades in English, Math, Science, History, Foreign Languages, Gym, and teacher’s notes)
Utau: English 80%, Math 60%, Science 60%, History 100%, Foreign Languages 100%, Gym 40%, Notes: enthusiastic but does not play well with others
Who would be most interesting drunk? Describe them. Zili, as long as you managed to stay the hell out of her way once she started playing tricks on everyone around her
Which one of your characters would make the best roommate? Alice
Dance partner? Alice
Husband/Wife? Alice
Super villain? Utau
Teacher? Alice
Business partner? Utau
Friend? Alice

-Random Inquiries-

Who would resent knowing they’re a character? Utau
Who wouldn’t mind? I think they'd all be pretty pissed off, actually
Which of your characters do you like as a person? Alice
Who would you most like to actually meet? Zili
Who would you not like to actually meet? Wrath
Your alien and bestial characters, what would they look like if they were human? Zili would be short and skinny, Mohawk, several piercings, one blue eye one green eye, very angular
Who would be happy in a boring, safe little job in a cubicle? Alice
Who dreams of flying? Zili
Pick a character and outline his or her soulmate.
Who would like you? As a person, not a creator. Alice
Who is happy? Zili
Who probably drove his or her parents crazy as a kid? Zili!
What animal most suits the personality of each of your characters? Utau: a housecat, Wrath: tiger, Alice: kitten, Ironheart: wolf (doi), Zili: a sea urchin, Phia: also a cat, I think
What color most suits them? Utau: gold, Wrath: red & black, Alice: baby blue, Ironheart: dark brown, Zili: neon purple, Phia: maroon

News

2009-09-08T22:34:54Z

Well, it's the beginning of the school year. Which, although I'm not going to school (outside of one class which I will discuss momentarily), is usually a time when I return to my "self-improvement" cycle. I've actually made a few steps towards an improved Bootler, and I am now going to record them.

First! I am joining a choir, starting next week. It's "Introduction to Choral Singing" through the Royal Conservatory of Music, running until December. I'm a little nervous, but I hope it goes well. It's been a long time since I sang in anything resembling an organized group, and I'm quite looking forward to it. That does mean that I won't be taking a writing course this semester, but a few students from a previous course are carrying on with a more casual meeting, so hopefully that will hold me over.

Also on the writing front, I've begun a separate writing blog over at blogspot: Among Other Things. Come visit! Tell your friends, tell your neighbours! There's not too much up there just yet, as I'm only updating twice a week (Thursdays and Sundays, except this last Sunday because I wasn't home and it was a holiday). Everything there so far is older work, but I hope to start posting new stuff soon. We'll see how it goes.

In the more physical realm, I am back to swimming (completed 54 lengths in 22 minutes last night). But not only am I swimming, I am also lifting weights! A little bit. I've borrowed a weight-lifting for dummies book thing from my dad, along with a couple dumbbells and teensy weights. Because I'm not looking to really bulk up I'm just doing a circuit routine, but having just completed my first session this evening I think that will be more than enough for me. In general terms I've decided that rather than resolve to lose weight, I will now resolve to exercise more, since that's easier to control. So far I am succeeding, and that makes me happy.

Finally, in the creative realm, I'm trying a completely new sort of role-playing character in a new game that just started up with Pat, Kendra and Carly. I don't know that that really counts as "self-improvement", but it's a lot of fun and that's important too. We just finished our first session last Saturday, and I am really looking forward to the next one. This is actually the first time I've been in a role-playing game without Sab, so that's a little bit odd. Today we had an official role reversal in which I told her about a game that she's not in. Craziness.

And that's pretty much it. I'm still doing the online dating thing, no real success just yet. But I haven't given up, so I guess that's something. Really I have no expectations of anything coming out of it, so I'll just stick with meeting new people to chat with for now.

And that is all!

Random writing

2009-08-07T15:55:59Z

Incredibly bored at work today. So Fweeh helped me out, and gave me topic to turn into a random scene! Which I am now posting. Enjoy!

Topic: one person in a room; there is a box on the table that wasn't there a blink ago.

'Wait here'. Sure, why not. It's not like I have anything else I could be doing on such a beautiful day. Why waste my time outside in the sunshine when I could sit in an empty, windowless room waiting for some stupid psych eval. This is much better.

Man, there's not even a clock in here. I really need to start wearing a watch. How long am I supposed to wait? I guess it doesn't really matter. I need to do this eval, or they'll never let me into the unit. I wonder if the guys had to jump through all these hoops? It seems like I've had a lot more physicals than them. A woman joining the unit can't be that odd, can it? I mean, they recruited me! Why do that if they don't want me?

Okay, no. It doesn't matter. I'll just wait. No problem. They could at least have a magazine or something. What kind of waiting room doesn't have magazines? Or something to look at? What're they-

Wait. How did - that wasn't there before. How did that get in here? Boxes don't just randomly materialize. Is there - there's a secret latch in the wall? A secret, silent latch that opened and someone put that box there without me noticing? It's . . . yeah, okay, that could happen. In a silent room. With nothing to distract me. Sure.

Okay, it's a test. Everything's a test, right? Hopefully it's not a test of my observational skills, 'cause I just failed. So, what, am I supposed to open it? Ignore it? Figure out how the hell it got there? God I hate tests.

Well, I can't just sit here and stare at it. Action. That's what they said. Action is always the best choice. Wait, what did Peters say? Balanced action, whatever that's supposed to mean. Well . . . it's not doing anything. It's not ticking, no wires I can see, no runes. It's not even locked. So, uh, hmm. Jeese that's heavy! Okay, you're staying on your little table. Christ.

Anything . . . no, nothing under the table. Man, someone's going to walk in while I'm waving my ass in the air. Heya, doc, just sniffing the floor for a trace chemical signature. Don't mind me.

Wait, where'd the door go? How did . . . I got into this room somehow, what happened to the fucking door? This is . . . no. Okay. One issue at a time. Maybe there's a hint in the box? Yeah. I've gotta, I've gotta open it. Aaaaaand . . . open!

Well, no explosion. Gunna look. And it's, it's . . .

So beautiful
What is
I have to
beautiful...

Words Post

2009-07-14T00:37:55Z

Check it out, I'm posting! Altho I'm cheating, and doing a meme post. This is from the "5 words" meme, and the words were given to me by pyat quite a while ago. Still, better eventually than never...

Wolf

Well, let's see. Looking around the room I am currently seated in I can count... 6 wolf items. Seven if you count a picture of me with my mask on (and several more if you're counting books). Basically wolves are my most favourite animal. During the brief period when I was looking into the whole therian scene, I would have said wolves are my spirit animal. At the moment, however, I will just say that I admire them. I like the pack mentality, and all the good stereotypes and such. One of the best birthday gifts I ever received was a trip with my mom to the Haliburton Wolf Centre, where we participated in a wolf howl (I got to howl! and the wolves howled back! So cool!), and then watch the wolves the next day for several hours. So, yes. I am a fan.

Anthrocon

This is a bit more timely now, I suppose, since AC just recently passed. I had the chance to attend about... hmm... 4 years ago? I'm not entirely sure. But I quite enjoyed it when I went, and met several very cool people (including most of my lj friends list, now that I think about it). I am semi-considering going again next year, but I don't really know. For now it resides in happy memory land, and that's not too shabby.

Gaming

This is a hard one! Let's take it in parts. First, video gaming. I came into the dark and dangerous world of video games relatively late in life, largely due to Jamie at Trent. I was strictly a PC gamer for quite a while, where I enjoyed RPGs like NWN and KOTOR, various Sims games, and the very occasional shooter (pretty much just Max Payne). Last year I ended up getting myself a PS2 so I could play Guitar Hero, which was soon followed by an XBox for more Guitar Hero and Rock Band, as well as Mass Effect. I consider myself a casual gamer at best, with a heavy emphasis on music/rhythm games.

And then there is table-top gaming, which I also came into late in life! Mostly due to the influence of Fweeh and her roomates (both former and current), I have had the pleasure to play in a couple campaigns so far. My characters seem to tend towards the "haughty bitch" realm, and to be honest I don't really know why that is. I will be starting up in two new campaigns this week, though, with two new characters. And I am hoping that at least one of them will have a somewhat friendly personality... occasionally... On the whole I like stories, and I like participating in them, so table-top gaming is a pretty awesome way to spend some time.

Writing

Hmm, not sure what to say here either. Writing, by which I mean fictional writing, is something that has pretty much always been a part of my life. I continue to nurture a tiny hope of becoming an "official" novelist, but we'll see what happens there. I like making up characters, and I love world-building so I pretty much dwell in the sci-fi/fantasy genres. There were a few months when this journal turned into basically a writing journal, but since then things have slowed down a bit for me. I've started taking writing classes again, though, and will be joining a more informal writing group with some of my fellow students, so I am hopeful that that will light a fire under my butt and I can get a little more proactive about actually putting pen to paper. Alternatively I'll just carry on with writing ridiculously detailed game updates.

Dreams

What's with all the difficult words?! Lesse, dreams. I used to remember my dreams all the time, which I quite enjoyed because I always found them really interesting. A lot of them (or at least the ones I remembered, anyway) seemed to have decent narratives to them, and a few were turned into short story type things. I also took a Dream Psychology course at Trent, which was one of my absolute favourite courses. Dreams are very cool things, and I'm sad that I tend not to remember them anymore.

In terms of life dreams (i.e. goals), that's sort of in the air at the moment. I would like to become a professional writer. I would like to have a job that I don't dread going to. I would like to afford a condo and not have to rent anymore. *shrug* To be honest, though, I am generally pretty happy with my life. And that's certainly nothing to scoff at.

The End!

I'm cool too!!

2009-04-09T15:54:27Z

One of these days I'll do an actual post with information in it. Today, however, is not that day. Instead I'm jumping on the meme wagon. So follow the links to see how awesome and/or slightly less than awesome I am...

Oh, also:

You Are a Lynx

You are a quiet observer of the world around you. Your wisdom comes from listening carefully.
You've always been extra sensitive and aware. And it's made it difficult for you to fit in.

You see past people's outward personas. You are able to penetrate a stranger's soul.
What you've learned about people is both beautiful and ugly. And you keep these secrets to yourself.

What Big Cat Are You?

That is all.

This one is for Jamie

2009-02-16T17:42:12Z

Due to the excessive badgering of suppishld I am making a post! Something I meant to post anyway, here you go.

Back in September, in one of my writing tournaments, I won a monologue contest. The prize of which was to have my monologue performed and posted on YouTube. It took a few months, but it's finally been done!

There are actually two versions at the moment: here and here.

So that's cool.

And... that's all I got for now. Tada!

Brigits_flame: Chaos

2008-12-12T03:53:37Z

Ah, the Santa Clause Parade. Everyone loves a parade, right? Even when it's all but freezing, everyone enjoys the spectacle. The gaudy floats, the shriners in their little cars, the marching bands . . .

The marching bands.

"Ow! Don't pull my hair so tight!"

"Anyone seen my gloves? I'm not going out there without my gloves!"

"Who has my hat? C'mon guys, this isn't funny..."

"What do you mean you can't remember Jingle Bells? It's the easiest song we play!"

Crowded in a small church basement almost a hundred people need to get changed into uniform, unpack their instruments, go through their warm-ups and attempt to tune. Not that tuning will matter all that much once we get outside. Every year I've played in the Santa Clause Parade, my instrument froze about halfway through and refused to play more than a few specific notes.

Brass doesn't like the cold anymore than the rest of us.

But, despite how chaotic things look now, soon we will be a single unit. Dressed the same, marching in time, harmonizing perfectly. We will all find our gloves, our hats, our second pairs of socks. We will form into our block and march down the street as one.

And if I can't play anymore by the end of the parade, well, that's okay. To be honest, I sort of flubbed on memorizing Jingle Bells anyway.

Merry Christmas!

Brigits_flame: Unity

2008-12-05T12:41:52Z

"O holy night, the stars are brightly shining, it is the night of our dear saviour's birth."

Lynn paused at the sound of the carolers and let the rush of shoppers move past her. Three weeks out from Christmas and the malls were packed. Every year, Lynn swore to herself that she'd finish gift shopping well in advance. And, every year, she found herself in the mall, fighting with hundreds of manic shoppers for the season's "must have" gift. An easy way to lose any hope of "Christmas spirit".

"He appeared, and the soul felt its worth"

But the carolers always changed that. A dozen beautiful voices, working together at a single purpose. Music. The fact that Lynn had very little belief left in the "true meaning of Christmas" didn't matter at all. She loved carolers.

"Fall on your knees!" Lynn inhaled deeply as the carolers voices swelled, growing to the climax of the song. "O night, divine! O night, o night divine."

She let her breath out slowly, then stumbled when a middle-aged man brushed past her. "Get out of the way, lady!"

Lynn grimaced and took a step closer to the carolers, out of the way. But they, too, were scattering now. On a break, she supposed. She dropped her change into the collection kettle and moved back into the stream of shoppers, ready once again to face the world of Christmas.

Brigits_flame: Wine

2008-11-07T03:24:23Z

"Uungh," My head hangs over the toilet as I fumble to reach the plunger. I manage to knock over the decorative tissue box sitting on the back of the toilet in the process, and cringe as it clatters onto the cold white tiles of my bathroom floor. "Shuddup," I mutter to the world in general, and try again for the flusher.

A hand closes over mine and guides me, helping me force the plunger down, and the rush of water fills my ears. "Drink this;" the sound of glass thudding against porcelain as a glass of water is proffered next to my head.

"Leave me alone."

"You'll feel better. Drink this. And I brought toast."

"Blarg," I make a face, but put my hand out to accept the water. With help guiding the glass up to my mouth I manage to swallow a few mouthfuls. I push the glass away. "I thought you had to go to work early?"

A low chuckle. "And miss out on the morning after? Don't talk crazy. Here. Eat something." I can feel toast in front of my lips, and I force myself to open my mouth for a bite. It takes a long time to chew, but eventually I swallow it down.

A long moment to see if I'll throw up again.

I exhale heavily and open my eyes to glare at the man in front of me. "You were supposed to stop me after the first bottle."

Bright blue eyes dancing, short blond hair still ruffled from sleep, he grins at me. "I tried. You wanted to celebrate."

"You were supposed to remind me why I stop at one bottle."

He shrugs. "You didn't want to be convinced."

"You're a horrible boyfriend. I hate you."

With a laugh he presses a kiss onto my brow. "I know. Here. Drink some more water."

Brigits_flame:Beseiged

2008-10-24T02:47:55Z

[Note: okay, this one might require a little bit of background information. A friend of mine commented that Teri from Fuel would make a good werewolf from the "Werewolf: The Apocalypse" roleplaying game. I agree, so I'm giving it a shot.

For reference:
-Glass Walkers are a tribe of werewolves that live in cities and are a lot more comfortable with technology than other tribes.
-Werewolves travel in packs, often of the same tribe.
-The phase of the moon a werewolf is born under determines their role in the werewolf world. Those born under the full moon are ahroun, the warriors of the werewolf nation.
-They have a "feat name" which they are known by among other werewolves.

Hopefully that'll make things a bit easier to understand. Enjoy!]

Teri enjoyed her job. She did. Support-staff in a large law firm may not be glamorous work, but it was satisfying. She was helping justice be done, a worthy task for anyone. It occasionally grated on her nerves to spend all her time surrounded by steel and plastic and glass, but when that happened she'd just take a personal day and drive up north to spend some time at the cairn. Even Glass Walkers needed an escape every once in a while.

Unfortunately, escape wasn't always available. With a massive appeal and a number of missing staff – including Denise, the little blonde clerk had finally quit after enough gentle nudging – Teri was the only one available to sort through all the transcripts, witness reports, filings, and interrogation notes to make sure there were no discrepancies.

"Hey, where do you want these?" A voice sounded from behind another stack of boxes.

Teri glowered. "Wherever you can find room."

The intern found a clear space on the floor and put the boxes down, right next to where she was sitting. "Wow, it's like a fortress in here. You could hold off a siege or something behind all these." The boy grinned at his own joke.

Teri looked around and managed a chuckle. "Yeah. Any more of those?"

"We're still looking through the vault. I'll bring up whatever's left."

She sighed. "Great."

*

"Teri?" Peter, one of the junior partners, leaned through the doorway and peered into Teri's office. The room was filled with cardboard boxes and stacks of file folders. "Are you in here?"

"Over here," a hand waved from the back corner, behind a pile of boxes labelled "CS08-754". Peter walked further into the room, careful not to let any of the folders touch his $2000 suit jacket.

"Marcus has you on the Oliver appeal?" As Peter approached he could see Teri sitting cross-legged on the floor, several stacks of paper arrayed in a semi-circle around her. Her long auburn hair was gathered in a bun on top of her head, secured by half a dozen pens. She had a red pencil in one hand and a multi-coloured highlighter wheel in the other.

"Yeah," she paused to highlight a line in blue and made a shorthand notation next to it. "Two days until court and our clerk vanishes. I tell you, I thought I was finished with cross-checking." She growled under her breath. "Goddamn flake."

Peter cleared his throat. "Look, Teri, I – well, David really – wanted to talk to you about that. Apparently Denise made a complaint before she left."

Teri glanced up, distracted curiosity playing across her face. "Let me guess, too much work and not enough pay? She wouldn't be the first."

"No, uh," Peter cleared his throat again. "Well yes, I mean, of course. But there was something else."

Teri's gaze slid back down to the papers in front of her. "Okay, and? I'm not in Personnel, Peter. Why do I care if she had a complaint?"

"It was about you."

Teri's eyes snapped back up, and Peter had to force himself not to take a step back at the force of her gaze. Most of the time Teri was one of the friendliest, most accommodating people in the office. He'd worked with her on several cases and considered her to be a friend. But when the work piled up, or one of the clerks made a stupid mistake, or one of the senior associates tried to throw his weight around – no one wanted to be in Teri's way then.

"What's the complaint? I only worked with her on this case, hardly enough time to piss her off that much."

"Well," Peter glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was within earshot. "She says that you threatened her a couple weeks ago. She was afraid for her safety."

*

"What the hell, Ironheart?! You work with her, what if she tells someone? You don't think I could have handled it?" Moth paced restlessly around the apartment, shoulder length hair in disarray from his fingers scrubbing through it.

She snorted. "After how many nights, huh? Before she falls in love with you, like they always do and you have to get me to do it anyway? 'I can't bear the look on their face'," she mimicked angrily. "It's easier this way."

Moth turned and pointed at her. "We're happy here, damnit. No fighting in how long? Fritz is going to get his degree in six months, Callback is getting a rep at the clubs. If we have to leave again, what's that going to do to them?"

She growled at him, furious that he would suggest she didn't care about their packmates. Her chest burned. "We won't have to leave. She'll back off, it's under control."

"Do I have to remind you about St. Louis? Or Seattle? I can't keep cleaning up your messes."

"It's not a mess!" She ran at Moth, then hit the ground hard when he flipped her.

"Don't test me, girl." She strained against him for a moment, daring herself to use her full strength against her alpha, then collapsed back.

"It's under control."

"It better be."

*

Teri paused for a long moment then burst out laughing. "Are you serious? And Dave believed her?"

"No, of course not. But you know we're required to talk to you about a serious complaint, especially when there might be legal repercussions."

A smile remained on Teri's face, but her eyes hardened. "She's planning to sue me?"

"Well, uh, it's a possibility. She didn't say as much but, you know, she hinted. David just wanted to catch it before anything happened. Check with you to see if you thought we should know anything."

Teri smirked. "Yeah, right. She was hitting on a friend of mine and I told her to back off. You think anyone's going to believe that I threatened her?"

Peter chuckled, his posture relaxing. "No, of course not. You know David. He's a worrier."

"Right," she smiled. "No problem. Now, if you don't mind, I really need to get back to this."

"Sure. Thanks. I'll see if I can send over Marie or something, once she's done with the Peterson Estate." He grinned, and turned to leave, just in time to miss the flash of red in Teri's eyes.

*

Little bitch, told you not to talk. Stay away from me, stay away from my pack, peace in the world. Come after me? Think you can handle it? I'll tear you down, limb from limb.

Ironheart could feel the Rage growing inside her. Too long trapped in this office, too long surrounded by paper, too long away the sky. Too close to the full moon.

Don't need this. Don't need them. Cut and run, find another place. Done it before, do it again. Burn them down.

The constant ball of anger in her chest started to burn, she could see a flame dancing in front of her gaze.

"Calm, Ironheart. Breathe. Don't let the Rage control you. A warrior must be in control. Fight to protect yourself, fight to protect your pack, fight to protect the Wild. Never in anger, never to harm."

The voice of her mentor chased the Rage away, and Teri could breathe once more.

*

"This is the last of them." Two more boxes appeared in Teri's vision as the intern put them down. "Looks like your fort is complete."

Teri waited until her vision had completely cleared, then looked up and smiled. "Guess the world is safe from me for a while longer."

The intern laughed awkwardly, not sure he understood the joke. "Yeah, right. Uh, see you later."

"Later."

bootler @ 2008-10-15T17:23:00

2008-10-15T21:24:48Z

[Note: all credit for "Fuel" goes to James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich of Metallica. Please don't sue me.]

“Gimme fuel / gimme fire / gimme that which I desire / oo-ah!”

“Woo!!” Teri cheered along with the rest of the bar as her best friend, Timothy “Moth” Peterson, started the first song of the evening. Their bi-monthly karaoke night had become a tradition, ever since second year of university, and Moth often sang at least half a dozen times before last call. Teri would sing as well, eventually, once she’d drunk enough to get over her fear of standing in front of so many people. Even after coming here for almost ten years, Teri was still petrified to get up on stage and sing.

“Wow, he’s really good!” This comment from Denise, a co-worker of Teri’s. She’d only started a couple weeks ago and didn’t know very many people in town. When Teri mentioned that she was going out with some friends to celebrate the end of the workweek, Denise had invited herself along. Not wanting to put up a fuss, Teri had acted more than happy for the 20-something law clerk to join the group. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“And I burn / churning my direction / quench my thirst with gasoline”

“How long have you known each other?” Denise glanced away from the stage briefly, not quite catching Teri’s look.

“University,” Teri replied, chasing the answer down with another swallow of beer. “We were housemates.”

“You ever hook-up?” Teri almost choked on her beer, and the rest of the table burst into laughter.

“Not those two. Never happen.” Parker leaned in to answer. “Teri doesn’t date friends. No matter how nicely we ask,” he winked at Teri, then ducked as she threw a balled-up napkin at his head.

“Oh. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone right now?” Denise did catch Teri’s eye this time, and raised a hopeful eyebrow.

Forcing a smile, Teri shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

Denise looked back up on the stage. “Cool.”

“Take the corner, join the crash / headlights, headlines / another junkie lives too fast”

Teri eyed the level in Denise’s drink before swallowing down the rest of her own. Close enough to empty. “Hey, I’m out. Help me carry, Denise?” The other girl nodded, her eyes still on Moth. Teri made a face at her back, and grabbed her wrist to pull her over to the bar.

It was easy enough to navigate in the near pitch black. Teri had been coming here long enough, she could have walked it in her sleep. She easily went around the main bar, and pushed Teri into a small alcove just before the kitchen. No servers would be coming out right now, they all watched Moth when he performed.

“Hey, what-“

Teri pushed her arm against Denise’s throat, silencing the girl easily. She pulled her lighter out of her pocket, and lit it in front of the girl’s eyes. “I’m only going to say this once. You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough. Forget it.”

Denise struggled, but Teri had the leverage. And the anger.

“Gimme fuel… / gimme fire… / my desire…”

“Go ahead and tell. Who’ll believe you? Teri wouldn’t threaten a soul.” She held the lighter closer to Denise’s eyes, pushing against her throat to keep her from screaming. “Just you stay away. Got it?” Teri raised her eyebrows expectantly. When no response came she snarled. “Got it?” The girl managed to nod, her eyes wide with fear. “Good.” Teri let her go. “Now get out of here.”

The girl stared at her a moment longer, then turned and fled the bar.

Teri went back to the bar and signaled for another round. As she waited she watched Moth, and mouthed along as he finished. “Gimme fuel / gimme fire / gimme that which I desire / oooohh”

“On I Burn!”

Brigits_flame: There it goes

2008-10-10T03:15:09Z

Note: this is dedicated to my best friend, who I hope had a fantastic 24th birthday. Youngin'. This piece is related to a couple who came before it (Heavy and Brilliance), but hopefully it will manage to stand on it's own okay.

There it goes, I think to myself as Ivnit's shield goes flying from her arm. We've been sparring for the last half hour, and I've finally gotten bored enough to push for the end.

Talking a step back, Ivnit drops her short sword and pulls out her preferred weapon. "Did you hear? There's a courier from the Archbishop!" Ivnit punctuates this latest gossip with a mighty swing of her warhammer. I manage to dodge most of the impact, deflecting it off the side of my armour, but it still knocks me back a few steps. Grateful for the brief reprieve – not that I would ever admit it – I take a moment to catch my breath before resuming the attack.

"How do you know he came from the Archbishop? Was it a Tiefling?"

Ivnit snorts at me. "No. I saw his horse, and the livery on the horse. Do you honestly think a Knight would have nothing better to do than deliver messages? Politics are part of our lessons, Ailith, you should know better than that."

I roll my eyes and feint a low swing before replying. The dwarf moves to block leaving herself open for my intended target – the elbow joint in the armour on her weapon-arm. With enough force my greatsword can be a decent blunt instrument, and I see Invit's grip falter. If we weren't simply sparring I could end her now. Instead I simply back up and grin.

"Kord isn't concerned with politics, I don't see why his paladins should be."

Ivnit mutters for a while in dwarfish. "How do you expect to know who is a worthy opponent if you don't know the background of a situation?"

"By the strength of their arm, of course," Morgan, the novice-master and my mentor, answers for me. "Ailith is quite right. As useful as it may be to be aware of the politics and beliefs of a region or people, it certainly needn't concern you when facing an opponent."

Ivnit sighs and gives me a strange look. "Yes, sir. Of course."

Eyeing Ivnit carefully to make sure she isn't planning to attack again, I turn to face my mentor.

"We have a message, I hear?"

Morgan gives me a stern look, he doesn't appreciate it when I tease the other novices. By turning my back I've demonstrated that I don't consider Ivnit a threat.

Well, I don't.

I am the most talented novice here. This is not ego, only simple fact. We are taught to evaluate the strength and capability of those around us as a matter of course, and there are no novices here who could best me. Few teachers, were it to come to that.

Then again, I doubt I could last long against Morgan. So perhaps a bit of deference is due.

I lower my eyes and move aside slightly, opening my position so Ivnit is no longer physically excluded from the conversation. She steps forward in response and I can see Morgan's lips twitch towards a smile. There. I can be diplomatic if I wish.

"Ivnit spotted the courier's horse. Is there news about the war? We haven't heard of any movement in a while."

Morgan shakes his head. "Nothing dramatic. A new batalliion of Knights has been sent to the front, but I doubt we'll be hearing anything soon."

"So why is he here?" Ivnit's voice is abrupt. Not a surprise, the dwarves sided with the Dragonborn Empire long ago. I've often wondered how Ivnit came to be training here, but I never dared ask.

Morgan hesitates and glances at me before answering. "There is a task that the archbishop needs completed. He has asked that I send one of my novices to assist with it, in lieu of their confirmation quest."

A shock of excitement runs through me, and I can see Ivnit's stance shift slightly. "Only one novice?"

Morgan inclines his head.

"Have you made your decision yet?" I try to keep my voice steady, but I doubt I've fooled anyone. Ten years I've been in this training house. Ten years I've been preparing for my confirmation, to be welcomed as a full paladin and begin my life serving Kord. Ivnit has been here just as long, I suppose, but ten years is a lot longer in the life of a half-elf than the life of a dwarf.

Not to mention, I'm better than she is.

Morgan observes us for a moment. "I would like for you both to hear what the messenger has to say. One of you may not wish to alter the traditional confirmation."

Ivnit and I look at each other. Vulnerable points, potential attacks, and likely counters run through my mind, as I know they do hers.

Her gaze drops, and the moment is broken. "Yes, sir."

***

I wake at dawn, as always. After completing my sword exercises I dress in full armour and swing my pack onto my back.

The fight was just as easy as I expected.

None of the other novices are awake yet, dawn has always been my time. I'm not surprised to find Morgan waiting for my in the courtyard, but I am pleased.

He watches me silently as I approach, his face carefully blank. I stop a few steps away from him and rest my hand on the pommel of my sword. "You had already made your decision."

He shrugs slightly. "Archbishop Bergen asked for my best."

I smile. "You had already made your decision."

"Serve Kord well, Ailith. This quest is more important than you can know. Our Kingdom depends on it."

I nod, and stand straighter. "Yes, sir." Morgan inclines his head, and steps aside for me to walk past him. I observe him for a moment longer, waiting.

Eventually he sighs and rolls his eyes. "I had already made my decision."

I grin. "I won't let you down."

Walking out of the courtyard, I smile to myself. Finally finished with training. There it goes…

Brigits_flame: Confession

2008-09-29T01:06:21Z

Why don't we try something new? A little experiment, you might say. I'm going to tell you the truth, and you're going to believe me. Ready? Here goes:

I knew exactly what I was doing.

I knew exactly what was going to happen.

And I did it anyway.

I have no excuses. I didn't have an abusive childhood or boyfriend – or girlfriend, for that matter. I'm not lacking in a social support network. I have friends, family, and cats that love me. I am a fully integrated part of society.

I didn't need the money. I am well-educated, I have a good job, and I was set to get a promotion in a few months. Don't get me wrong, the money was nice. But that's not why I did it.

No matter what that file in front of you says, I'm not suffering from depression, dissociative identity disorder, bipolar disorder, or psychosis. I have my ups and downs, like anyone, but I'm a stable, well-adjusted adult.

No, I have no excuses. None. And I don't want you to keep making them up for me. I went into this with my eyes open. I did it because I thought it would be interesting. I did it because I wanted to see if I could. I did it because it was an option.

Maybe that doesn't fit into your worldview. Maybe you think there had to have been some other reason, something you could turn into an easy headline or catchphrase. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that just isn't the case. I'll take my consequences – there are rules, after all – but I'm not going to hold your hand while you decide what they should be. I'm not going to lie about who I am just to make your life easier.

Ah, and here's where I lose you. Scribbling there in your notebook, face pinched with frustration. What's the diagnosis this time? Denial? That's one of my favourites. Or sociopathy, maybe. Big word for "crazy lady with no emotions". Oh! I know! Repressed memories. Clearly I was part of a cult that worshiped Satan when I was a child. That must be it!

You know what? You're right. I should stop being so uncooperative. Why don't you just tell me what you'd like the truth to be? Write down the symptoms of my disorder, and I'll see if I can ape them better next time.

Another failed experiment.

brigits_flame: Eternal

2008-09-19T12:53:42Z

I am a celebration.

I am victory and optimism. I am brass bands and billowing flags. I am grand parades and fireworks and holidays. I am pride.

I am a lament.

I am sadness and desolation. I am low strings and black banners. I am slow processions and flickering candles and mourning. I am loss.

I am a prayer.

I am gratitude and petitions. I am choirs and stained glass. I am drum circles and chanting and fasts. I am penance.

I am a background.

I am boredom and studying. I am humming and quiet offices. I am elevator rides and white noise and commuting. I am sound.

I am music.

I am rock and jazz. I am pop and symphony. I am opera and metal and baroque. I am tribal.

I am music.

And I am eternal.

Brigits_flame: Mud

2008-09-12T01:18:56Z

When I was growing up there were two ways to get to my best friend Peter's house. The first was along the streets which was safe, well-lit at night, boring during the day, and took 40 minutes to walk. Or I could go across the field which was bumpy, pitch black at night, a riot of colour during the day, and only took 23 minutes to run. In the Winter I took the roads. Snow in the field could come up to my waist, and my mother was strangely unwilling to lend me her snowshoes. In the Summer I took the field route, marvelling at the hundreds of tiny flowers, chasing after butterflies and hummingbirds, and usually arriving covered in a thin coat of dust.

In the Spring and Autumn, however, it was often a more difficult choice. When the world was covered in a sheet of ice that threatened to collapse under an incautious step, or just after it had rained and the field was a thick, goopy mess, I would stand at the end of my driveway and try to decide if the risk was worth it.

How difficult my decision was really depended on who had laid out my clothes in the morning. If it was my father, I was fine. Dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt, I could get as dirty as I like and not upset anyone. If it was my mother, chances were I was wearing a dress. It wouldn't stop me from running around the entire day once I reached Peter's, but I always felt a twinge of guilt about going through the field in my "good clothes".

Of course, even then, I usually took the field. I was young, a tomboy, and in a horrible rush to get to my best friend's house to begin the day's adventures. So I would arrive at a run, covered in mud, endure the weary sigh of Peter's mother, and then I would chase Peter into the field so he ended up just as much a mess as I was.

We had been friends since nursery school, Peter and I. He was an only child, and my own brother was almost 10 years older than me. Sometimes I would overhear my mother talking to my father about it. "It’s not right. What sort of game is King of the Mountain for a little girl?"

"Oh, don't be foolish Lillian. She's having fun, what does it matter?" My father always liked to see me happy.

In the Spring, when we were 12 years old, a new family moved into the house next to Peter's: mother and father, a baby girl and a boy a year older than us. Dylan. We were in a split class with the grade above, and it was our class that Dylan was placed in for the remainder of the school year. Despite the difference in grades, our teacher assigned Peter to be Dylan's "buddy", since they were neighbours.

It hurt, a little, to see Peter spending so much time with someone else. We had always shared friends, but for the first time I was nervous to speak in front of someone new. For some reason I didn't understand Dylan's mere presence caused my stomach to fill with butterflies, my heart to race, and my tongue to tie into knots. Peter thought it was great fun, teasing me every time I blushed. Dylan would just smile, wise in his 13 years, well aware that I had a crush on him.

I struggled on. I wasn't going to lose my best friend because my stupid body was rebelling against me. I still ran to Peter's house every night after I finished my homework, and every morning on the weekend. Only now we were three. We played new games, better games, games that Dylan taught us. And if I continued to stumble over my words every once in a while, or my mother continued to fret that I hadn't grown out of my "tomboy phase", that was fine with me.

It was an oddly dry Spring, that year. We'd had a mild Winter so the snow melted before the end of March, and the weather man kept talking about a dry spell that looked like it would last into mid-Summer. For some reason that was upsetting a lot of people, but I thought it was marvellous. The field had blossomed into flowers early, and everything smelled of new life. I could run in my very best dress and not even my mother could be angry that I took the quick way to Peter's house.

Until one Saturday morning, wearing a bright yellow dress, I had just started running and the sky opened above me. I was drenched in a heartbeat. The path in front of me turned to mud, sucking at my feet as I tried to keep running. I fell twice, and blundered into more than one stand of bushes. By the time I got to Peter's I was shivering, and covered head to toe in muck. Peter came out and I tried to tackle him, to chase him into the field, but he was too fast.

Laughing and taunting – "Muddy Mary, Muddy Mary" – Peter ran in circles around me, until I tripped and fell again. Drawn by the noise, Dylan appeared in Peter's doorway. He took one look at me and burst into laughter.

I stared at him in shock, more hurt than I had ever been in my life, and started to cry. I scrambled to my feet and ran all the way back home into my mother's arm, wailing about what horrible creatures boys were.

The following Monday Peter and Dylan grudgingly apologized. I had overheard my mother call Peter's, and knew that they'd been forced into it. I was mad at them for the rest of the week. But Peter had been all but a brother to me for too long, and before the end of the month we were friends again.

But I always took the roads to Peter's house, after that.

Old Writing

2008-09-04T14:15:00Z

I wrote this quite a while ago for a writing group I was a part of at the time. The challenge was to write a piece without any dialogue. I still feel like I sort of cheated, since writing in first person feels like dialogue to me, but whatever. The main reason I'm posting it here is because I keep worrying that I'm going to lose it, and I'm also considering using this world as the basis of a new project.

This hasn't been edited at all from when it was first posted, so it could probably use some polish, but whatever. Enjoy.

From the very beginning, it was a bad idea. Too many things could go wrong, too many variables unaccounted for. I wish I could say the reward was worth it, but that would be one more lie. Not that it mattered; I walked right into it anyway. I knew what my chances were, I knew how little I would be risking for, and I still did it. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted the thrill. Maybe I needed the distraction. Whatever it was, I did it. I took the job.

Oh yeah, I’m a spy. Among other things. For the past year and a half I’d been spending my days in a Darks training facility. As a janitor. Hey, it’s one of the best ways to get into a place. Dust gathers even under highest security, and you’d be an idiot if you thought the Darks were going to clean it themselves. Since they did all their training at night, I was pretty much by myself during the sunlight hours. So I’d clean – if nothing else, I do the job I’m paid for – and then workout on their equipment. There were cameras and systems all over the place, but you’d be surprised how much they let janitors get away with, as long as we keep the place tidy. Besides, how dangerous is it for someone to do a little workout?

In my case? Deadly. But they didn’t know that.

It was during a run out the outdoor course that I was approached. I still don’t know how they found me, or why they bothered to put in the effort. A big part of my line of work is knowing when not to ask questions.

The ambassador was a man called Charlie. His real name? Hell if I know. I was impressed by their choice. Someone had gone to a lot of effort to find out about me: Charlie was just my type. Tall, muscled but not obscenely so; just the definition that comes from long hours of physical labor. Hair less than an inch in length, stubbled face, deep brown eyes. Granted, in description it doesn’t sound all that impressive. But he had that . . . presence. That aura that got to me every time. Confidence bordering on arrogance, intelligence bordering on condescending. What can I say, I’m a sucker for the whole ‘bad boy’ image.

What’s the saying? Don’t mix business with pleasure? Well, I never claimed to be smart.

Oh. And an accent. English. Not that ringing high brow crap, but a smooth, lazy lengthening of the vowels. Hit me right between the legs. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was to find out it was about a job.

Information, he said. Well. People are always looking for information, even about the Darks. And sure, I was in a position to get it. If that were it, I would have laughed in his face. No money is worth tempting the anger of the Darks. If only that had been it.

But there was more. Of course. Some fallen Dark wanted revenge. Wanted to break the order that had broken him. Still wouldn’t have been enough to interest me.

But then . . . then the Darks would be rebuilt. Into their ‘former glory’. Back to the Shadow. Sure, I was interested. Anyone would be. Even if they didn’t have my history with the Shadow. If I hadn’t been working under the Dark for so long, if I hadn’t been itching for something to do, if it hadn’t been this man asking me.

If.

Well, the money wasn’t bad. And I was assured the Fallen wouldn’t forget my kindness. To get back into that family, was it worth it?

I said yes. Of course I did. What else could I do.

So I started spending time with Charlie. A lot of time. Even if I didn’t admit it then, I’ll admit it now: there was definitely pleasure to be had during that business. He was a marvelously sexy man. Long, tapered fingers; smooth skin, taunt stomach; soft lips; strong, talented tongue. We both knew it for what it was. A good time, a release of stress while we worked on a plan to tear apart the Darks.

Better to think with a clear head, right?

Actually we worked well together. Having worked for the Darks, I was able to map every hallway, every room, every guard and every station. Once we had the map of the training buildings, the real work began.

While I knew the layout, Charlie knew the politics of the Darks inside and out. Our plan was relatively simple: I’d get him into the building, direct him to the necessary offices, and he’d plant some information that would be found shortly after. Information on a coup in process. So, when the Fallen made his move, the Darks would be too busy trying to fix their own problems to deal with him. It was a neat plan, if somewhat prosaic. I admit I had doubts. The Shadow would never have fallen for something so simplistic. But this wasn’t my plan, the only thing I had to worry about was getting Charlie inside. If it fell apart when the Fallen appeared, not my problem.

Well. That’s what I thought anyway.

Charlie, on the other hand, was relatively confident. Apparently the Darks had been going through leadership changes, so things were already in turmoil. As to how he knew anything about the leadership of the Darks, I couldn’t say. I never asked him, either. Some things, I’d rather not know.

It was about a month after Charlie approached me for the first time, when I finally brought him with me to the Darks’ complex. I should have thought harder on it when the guard barely argued. Even in the most relaxed setting, I doubt janitor’s are permitted to bring guests with them when they go to work. But Charlie just pulled me to him with his arm around my waist, winked at the guard, and we were waved inside.

I made Charlie wait until I finished my cleaning. Always finish the job you’re paid for.

I did wonder that he didn’t push me on that, since it cut awfully close into the beginning of the Darks’ training. I’d let him get to know me too well, though. Before I thought to question him on it, that bastard distracted me. Even more obvious then, that he wasn’t worried about time constraints. But I was hardly watching the clock at that point.

It was past the point I’d normally start my workout, but the guards were likely just getting over the show Charlie and I had put on so it wouldn’t have crossed their minds. It probably helped us, that show, when we doubled back to the offices. Likely they thought we were just looking for a new surface. We encouraged that, of course. When he ducked to plant his evidence, I sat atop the desk so his head was hidden between my legs. He could have been going for realism, brushing against me. Whatever the reason, my groans were real enough.

We were leaving just as the first of the instructors began to filter in. They wouldn’t have noticed me, of course; a janitor is beneath the gaze of a Dark. Charlie, on the other hand, drew a few looks. But rather than ducking beneath them, which would have drawn further attention, he somehow managed to pull his presence inward. For the 10 minutes from the offices to the parking lot, Charlie appeared to be completely harmless. Just a face in the crowd, average and forgettable. Never before or since have I seen such a performance.

I had expected to be done with the job after that. And indeed, I was paid. But, much to my surprise, Charlie stayed. Spending more and more time in my house, in my bed. I’d thought to stop working then, get myself out of the line of fire, but Charlie had me stay. So he would be able to tell the Fallen when things were ready. We fell into a routine, the two of us. I went to work during the day, leaving him behind in my house, and then returned a few hours before sunset. We’d eat – Charlie was actually a fairly good cook – talking absently over the meal and evening news, and then fall into bed. Eventually I had to stop my workouts on the Darks’ equipment, saving myself for our evening romps.

And while we grew more comfortable around each other, there were very set limits between us. We never talked about our past, or the job that had brought us together. Didn’t talk about anything outside of my house, other than to let him know what gossip I heard from the day guards. Even in bed, our walls were up. Keeping our faces turned away, thoughts to ourselves. As familiar as I grew with his body, I knew nothing else about him. It was safer that way. And comfortable, in a way. No feelings, no questions, no expectations.

I wonder if even he knew, how dangerous that was.

It was a good two weeks later, when I heard the gossip from the guards. There had been a fight between two of the upcoming leaders. A trial was pending. The chain of command was falling apart, time for the Fallen to make his move.

For his part, Charlie seemed uninterested. He just nodded, telling me he would contact the Fallen the next day while I was at work. I think we both knew it would be our last night together. So we made the most of it. I screamed myself hoarse, eyes shut tightly. Charlie was quiet, as always, but the few times I caught his gaze I saw that they were nearly on fire. Definitely a good note to go out on.

I brought an extra bag with me to work that day. If the Fallen would be attacking soon, I didn’t want to be around. It proved to be fortunate foresight. Shortly after I started on the offices, all the alarms sounded. I ducked into a side corridor and changed in the flashing emergency lights. Back into the hunting clothes of a Shadow. Smoke grey and black, loose pants and tunic, black mesh scarf wrapped around my face and over my hair. Sued gloves, leather moccasins. Even though it had been nearly a decade since I’d last worn my hunting gear, it fit perfectly. Finally, I felt comfortable in my own skin. I knew, even if the Fallen’s plan fell apart, I was a Shadow again.

The Darks burst forth from their underground barracks. That they were still early in their training was painfully obvious, as I wove through them without a second glance. They were communicating mostly with hand signs, but they weren’t practiced enough to avoid all sound. Only the occasional word, of course, but enough for me to learn they didn’t know what had happened. Inner sensors were giving conflicting signals. It seemed not even the number of Darks remained consistent.

The Fallen knew well what he was doing.

We were still a few feet from the common area when the ambush was set. The Darks fought fairly well, but they hadn’t been trained to fight their own. I should have been surprised that the Fallen had Darks on his side. I left the fight behind, wanting no more than to get outside. Granted, my hunting gear would be no help in the sunlight, but that didn’t matter. Take off the scarf and gloves, I was nothing more than a janitor running in fear.

Chances are I would have made it, if I hadn’t seen Charlie. Dressed in pure black, darker than the shadows around him, presence pulled again. Not to look harmless, but to make an opponent wonder what they might be facing. I shouldn’t have looked. I should have turned away and just kept going.

I followed him.

He passed by the battling Darks, past the offices, past the classrooms. He turned into a side corridor, pressing a pattern of bricks as he walked towards what appeared to be a dead-end. It appeared Charlie knew more about the Darks facilities than I gave him credit for. As he approached the dead-end, the wall slid back to reveal a stairway into the Darks’ barracks.

He moved quickly down the stairs, with me close behind. I wonder now if he’d heard me, or if he was truly unaware of his shadow. Whether he knew I was there, he continued down the stairs until they leveled out into a dark corridor. What he was looking for down there, I never found out, because it appeared not all of the Darks had gone upstairs in response to the alarms. Charlie was faced with a full hand of Darks. His fighting was impressive to see, turning his attackers’ strength against them with fluid grace. Catching sight of his faces, it was more than somewhat disturbing to see his features twisted into an expression identical to when we had been sleeping together.

While he was distracted, I slipped into a second corridor. Why I didn’t go back up the stairs, I couldn’t say. But now that I was in the barracks, I was drawn to explore them.

In truth, it looked little different from the Shadow’s barracks. Long rows of cots, weapons chests, desks with large texts on them. No identity. This was not a place of living, rather of sleeping and learning. It struck me then, it mattered not if this place was run by the Darks or the Shadows; it would always be a company of spies and death-bringers.

It was in the eating area that I finally met the Fallen. Well over six feet, deeply tanned and obviously muscled. Dressed also as a Shadow, a crimson marking of rank tattooed on the side of his neck. With years of deeply ingrained training, I bowed.

The Fallen only smiled.

In an instant it was obvious, how he had known me so well. How he had known to send Charlie, why he bothered include me in his plans to destroy the Darks. And, more important, why he cared to destroy the Darks at all.

Miguel, second of the Shadow, whom I myself had trained to perfection nearly two decades ago. How he had escaped the culling, how he managed to gain entrance to the Darks, how he kept his identity a secret for so long; questions I knew would remain unanswered.

It was short work after that, to dispatch of the Darks; Miguel had brought the other surviving Shadows with him A few were left alive, young enough to be trained as Shadows. The reins of power passed easily enough. Miguel took over as first of the Shadow, and I took my place as his second. Charlie, it seemed, had natural talent in that capacity, so stayed on as a trainer. We spoke only out of necessity after that. There are vows to which the Shadow must conform: chief among them, no consorting within the ranks.

So after a decade of freedom, I was back. My identity erased once more, trained once more to kill with little more than a gaze. I have felt my personality crumbling ever since, and soon I will be nothing more than a memory to myself. A ghost. A shadow in truth.

I should have asked for more money.

Brigits_flame: Brilliance

2008-08-12T01:51:36Z

[Note: I promised a friend of mine that I would write another d&d based story, so here it is. This is with the same characters as my entry for last month's Heavy, but it should stand on its own without too much trouble.]

***

I lay on my back and watch the first fingers of dawn start to creep along the ceiling. The dormitory is quiet, Ivnit still fast asleep. Yesterday's training was hard, as all days have been since I arrived here, and we were up late into the night swapping stories and rumors. But I have always been an early riser.

When I was a child, morning was my father's time. A dedicated follower of Pelor, my father greeted the sun every day, long before my mother thought to wake. "The sun is life, little Ailith," he used to tell me. "You need never fear the night, banished as it is by dawn. Simply be patient, and even the darkest shadow will be burned away."

My father. Already 100 years old when I was born, he had seen more sun rises than I could imagine at a mere five years of age. How he had come to meet my human mother, why he chose to court and wed her, I still don't know. I never thought to ask him. Sitting as we did together, every morning, we very rarely spoke. We simply watched the sun rise then went our separate ways for the day.

One night, shortly after my sixth birthday, I woke to a crash of thunder, and the rushing sound of rain. I lay in my bed, trembling, and wondered if the sky was being torn in two. I squeezed my eyes shut at the brilliant flashes of lightning, spots dancing in my vision. But the sheer power of it called to me, drew me out of my bed to watch, to witness, just as I had watched the dawn so many times before.

I went out into the yard, shivering in the rain, and watched the storm rage across the sky. Breathless I shouted into the thunder and leapt with every white-blue fork of lightning. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I hadn't even realized that I was walking towards the lightning until my father appeared to drag me back into the house.

He was furious. That I would go out into the dark on my own, and risk the fury of the storm. "Kord is a dangerous god, child. You could have been lost in the dark, and how then should I ever find you?"

"But it wasn't dark," I tried to explain. "There was so much light, there were no shadows to fear."

My father simply shook his head, and extracted a promise that I would never wander so far from the house on my own again.

Things changed between us after that. We still watched the dawn together, but I began to long for late night storms, so I could glory in their power on my own. I remembered my promise and stayed close to the house, no matter how longed to chase after the lightning to see where it led.

Then came a morning, only a few months later, that I rose to watch the sun rise alone.

For almost 20 years the elves had been drifting away. We'd hear stories of entire families vanishing into the night; the once welcoming forests of Meergard all but abandoned. And my father had gone to join his people, leaving his half-breed daughter behind.

But I was an adaptable child – most half-elves are. When my sister was born not quite nine months later, I was overjoyed at the prospect of someone new to share the dawn with. Certainly, her eyes were a strange flat shade of brown, far unlike my father's violet eyes or my own lightning-shot blue. And, yes, her hair seemed a rather plain blonde compared to my father's gold or my own shimmering black with hints of green. But she was my sister, my dear companion. And if she lacked the telltale ears of a half-elf, then so be it.

We were close for many years, my sister and I. Waking together to watch the sun, reciting our lessons, taunting the boys up the road, making up wild adventures of where we would go once we were grown. The only time we spent apart was during a storm. While I went to watch, she would huddle under our quilt in fear.

It never seemed odd to me that I felt more comfortable with my sister, six years my junior, than with the girls my own age. Until my sister turned 12, and decided she was tired of waking up to watch the sun rise with me. "It's too early, Ailith. Leave me alone. I want to go back to bed."

My sister was out-growing me. My younger sister was suddenly giggling at the boys up the road. She was tired of our adventures, she was tired of our games.

A year passed. Just after my nineteenth birthday, I woke to watch the dawn alone. But the sky was still dark. Menacing black clouds gathered on the horizon. The air was heavy, stirring strangely with a cold wind that rose goosebumps on my arms. A storm was coming, and I could feel it in me like a glowing, surging force. A true storm. Perhaps the truest storm I had ever seen. And I knew, I knew, that I had to follow it.

I looked back at my mother, her face pinched and lined even in sleep. I looked at my sister, 13 years old and already more worried about growing up than I had ever been. I looked at the small shrine to Pelor, the only sign that my father had ever lived in this house. There was nothing for me here.

Thunder. Rain. Wind. Lightning.

Lightning.

I followed it, as I had always longed to do. Stumbling in the dark, completely lost, I staggered after the storm, desperate to keep pace. All around me was light. Brilliant flashes of light, guiding me onwards, blinding me to the shadows, until I blundered into a caravan train in the middle of the road.

I can only imagine what sort of sight I made – dressed only in a light tunic, deafened by thunder, hair matted to my scalp and shoulders, staggering like a drunk. But the storm had guided me safely. I'd happened across a caravan headed to the training house of Kord's paladins, and I was not the first to arrive in such a manner.

It was in that caravan that I met Morgan, my mentor. It was there that I met Ivnit, my fellow novice. And when we came to the training house, in the midst of another fantastic storm, it was there that I came to realize why my father left me behind.

"Up!" Morgan's voice breaks into my thoughts as he crashes through the door. I blink, the room is now full of light, dawn has broken. "Enough sleep!"

I smile at the sound of Ivnit grumbling her way awake, and bounce up to my feet. "I'm ready."

Brigits_flame: Shadows of Self

2008-08-05T22:41:27Z

"Calm, you must be calm. No, don't focus. Stop . . . wait, you're thinking. No . . . don't . . . be calm. You must . . . what are . . . no thinking. Stop listening to me. Just . . . no! Be calm, dammit!"

I growl in frustration and open my eyes to glare at my guide. "How can I be calm when you keep yelling at me?"

Lizbeth, my guide, sighs heavily. "You're trying too hard, Tin. It should come naturally. Stop trying to force it."

I glower at her. Easy for her to say, kneeling across from me, perfectly comfortable, while my own legs have already fallen asleep.

"I've been trying to let it 'come naturally' for three months now!" I can hear the sneer in my voice and immediately regret it. It's not Lizbeth's fault that I'm completely useless. I exhale heavily and move to sit more comfortably. "This is impossible."

Lizbeth gives me a sympathetic look. "It's not impossible. A lot of girls find it hard their first time. You need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself."

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, looking away from her. Lizbeth is my third guide. Three guides in as many months. I've never heard of anyone taking so long their first time. I've done all the classes, learned all the theory, and I'm still no closer to becoming a woman.

Watching my face, Lizbeth sighs again and stands in one graceful movement. "I'll get us some tea, it might help you relax. Just take a break. Do some of your breathing exercises, try to clear your head."

"Okay," I agree sullenly. I wait until her back is turned, then make a face. Clear my head. What does she think I've been trying to do?

I allow myself to mope for a few minutes, then scrub my hands through my hair and force myself back to my knees. I can do this, dammit. When Lizbeth comes back, I will do this.

I clear my throat and close my eyes. Okay. No thinking. This is me, not thinking. Right. So I'm going to shut up now.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out. I wonder what it feels like . . . No! Focus.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out I feel so stupid

Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in, breathe out who can sit like this? My knees are killing me

Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in,

"Wow, that looks really uncomfortable."

My eyes fly open at the unfamiliar voice. I try to stand, then cry out in pain and fall flat on my ass. All the while the strange man standing in front of me just watches, a grin on his face. "You okay?"

"Who the hell . . ." I stop and stare. Dark skin, short cropped blonde hair, blue eyes. I've never seen him before, and yet I know him. I turn to look at the mirrored wall. My skin is pale, my hair long and dark, my eyes brown. But the face. His is male, of course, but something . . . something . . .

"You?" I barely whisper the question, afraid he'll disappear and never come back.

He laughs, his voice full of an easy confidence I've never felt. "Me." He crouches in front of me and takes my hand. "Hello, Tin. I'm Kris. Your Shadow. Nice to finally meet you."

brigits_flame: It Hurts When I Do This

2008-07-11T12:20:32Z

Lookatme lookatme lookatme

Why are the "good" bras always so much more uncomfortable? Why did I wear this bra? It's just a party, it's not like anything's going to happen.

Laughwithme laughwithme laughwithme

Did anyone see that? She made the joke but he looked at me first before he laughed. Are they fighting again? No, wait, now she's holding his hand.

Smileatme smileatme smileatme

There! He didn't even look at her this time! Oh, wait, she's going to the other room. Doesn't want to play this boardgame. Well, fine. I'll play, she can go hang out in the kitchen.

Sitwithme sitwithme sitwithme

Neener, neener. I'm his partner. We're usually partners. Why are we always partners? We do usually win, I guess that makes sense. Does it mean something? What's he trying to say?

Staywithme staywithme staywithme

Oh, people are leaving. Time for goodbye hugs. Everyone else hugs, but we never do. Why is that? Is it weird? Do people wonder why we don't hug?

Staywithme staywithme staywithme

And there they go. I need to clean up. He didn't look back when he left. He had his arm around her shoulders. I guess they aren't fighting.

Staywithme staywithme staywithme

But he did ask if I wanted to go to the movies tomorrow. She's going to be out of town. I wonder if anyone noticed that. What does that mean?

Stay

List o' Random

2008-07-06T01:40:16Z

- I have my laptop back!! So very, very pleased about that. At this very moment I am sitting on my bed, taking advantage of sweet, wireless internet, listening to my full music list, and basking in the glow of a non-broken monitor.

- I'm really dizzy for no apparent reason. My only thought is because of staying up late last night, but I actually had a pretty good sleep so that doesn't make much sense. Probably a lack of water thing. I'm really good about drinking water during the week while I'm at work, but I never bother while at home over the weekend.

- As people may or may not have noticed, I recently joined a writing community here on lj. Basically it's like a monthly tournament. Every week we get a prompt, and then everyone votes for their favourites, and the bottom few get cut. I'm actually pretty happy with my first post (which was the one about "heavy"), and hopefully I get to carry on to next week.

- Also recently I got new frames for my glasses. I'm very pleased with them, and have gotten decent feedback from my friends (or, at least, from those who noticed the new frames :P ). Beyond that, tho, I got a random compliment from the cashier at the grocery store today. Which I think is pretty cool.

- I've gotten back into swimming (finally), altho I crapped out of going today. When I went on Thursday, tho, I managed to do 76 lengths in 35 minutes. I'm slowly creeping my way up, I want to try to get to 100 lengths. It'll take a while, but it's always good to have a goal...

- Hopefully starting up a 4E D&D campaign soon. Very much looking forward to that. I will be playing a half-elf paladin (which is actually the character I used for my writing group post, for those of you who read it...). In the new rules paladin's no longer have to be lawful good, and I'm looking forward to trying an "unaligned" paladin. Should be interesting.

- My little brother has returned from Singapore! He actually got back last week, and we had a whole family dinner thing at my apartment on Wednesday. (I cooked! Go me.) It was very nice to see him again. I think he's really happy to be home, and sleeping in his very own bed. He may still be going to Halifax in the near-ish future, but that's yet to be decided. At least it'd be on the same continent.

- Lately I feel like I'm drifting away from some of my friends. Which I find really sad. It may just be a factor of summer, that everyone's doing more vacation/travel/whatever, but I'm not sure. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, I've never really had steady friend "groups", rather steady individuals that carry on for long periods of time. The main two I am still very close with, and hopefully will remain so for a long time to come. Still. It's kind of sad.

- Once again thinking about the whole "online dating" thing, but haven't put any effort into it at all. Not really much to add there.

- Sab's house/housemates is/are awesome. And that's all that needs to be said about that :)

- Uhm.... that's pretty much it. Still playing the piano (love it!), playing more games on my 360 (Portal was awesome, Bioshock is creepy as hell). Work is going mostly okay. Going to have my annual review in August, which I'm sort of nervous about (since "nervous" really is my default state), but there's a month until then so I'm trying not to think about it too much. Very excited to be moving to my own apartment at the end of August/beginning of September. And that's it!

brigits_flame: Heavy

2008-07-02T12:39:31Z

“Is this strictly necessary?” I ask through clenched teeth as I attempt to swing the sword Morgan has given me.

“Heavy is the sword of a god. Heavy is the calling of the paladin. Heavy is the responsibility to be Kord’s weapon.” My mentor’s voice is deep, solemn.

I roll my eyes at him. “Heavy is the scent of bullshit in the air.” Morgan glares at me, unimpressed with my continued attempts at humour. He is the first human I’ve ever met who doesn’t like to laugh while he’s working.

Then again, considering the number of humans I know, maybe it’s just a racial thing.

“The longer you fight, the heavier your weapon gets,” my fellow novice - Ivnit, a dwarf – speaks up next to me. “Better to get used to it now.” She demonstrates by swinging her warhammer over her head before striking a straw target. Crafted primarily out of lead, as my sword is, the dwarf’s warhammer weighs almost twice as much as my own weapon. I scowl. There are disadvantages to being a half-elf.

“Very good, Ivnit. And exactly right. Until you can call on Kord to aid you, you must learn to push your body. And even when you can call on him, better to be prepared. Our god can be a fickle sort, and may not wish to aid you. Now, Ailith,” Morgan focuses on me once more. “Attack your target. Unless, of course, you’re too tired.”

My eyes narrow. To worship Kord is to fight. A paladin of the storm god can never be too tired for battle.

Inhaling slowly, I heft my sword once more. It is heavier, much heavier, than I am used to; but the balance is the same, the grip is the same. It feels good and right in my hand.

“Graah!” I bellow, swing the sword in a double-handed grip, then decapitate the target in front of me. At least one thing I can do that Ivnit can’t.

“Good.” Morgan nods. “Good. Again.”

***

It is later. Training, lessons, and dinner have come and gone. Sitting now in front of the fire in the main house with a cup of spiced ale in my hand, I ask Morgan why he bothered with the responsibility speech if the purpose of the exercise was to teach us to deal with fatigue.

“Because responsibility is important too, Ailith.” His voice is lower, thick from a night’s drinking, but his eyes are clear. “Some orders claim that to follow the storm lord is to lack direction. To be free to do as we wish and claim it is our god’s way. But that isn’t true, and you must understand the difference or you’ll never be able to serve Kord.

“We may not choose sides. Ours is not to enforce order, or crush to nonbeliever, or champion the weak. Our path is more ambiguous, yes, but just as important. We seek honour in battle, glory in the fight. Be strong, but do not destroy for the sake of strength. Be courageous, but do not attack for the sake of courage. Be glorious, but do not fight for the sake of glory. There is no honour in defeating an unworthy opponent. Ours is not to think of the politics or ramifications, rather the strength and challenge in our enemy. Only in fighting those worthy can we hope to gain renown, and thus serve our god. Do you understand?”

I stare at my teacher – so earnest, so full of our god that I can almost see a glow around him. That is why I came here. What I want to become.

I nod eventually. “I understand. Heavy is the sword.”

Morgan smiles and toasts me with his mug. “Heavy is the sword.”

brigits_flame: Introduction

2008-06-30T13:34:09Z

Hullo to my fellow brigits_flame folks! I'm finally getting around to my oh-so-thrilling introduction. And so, a Bootler, in 5 minutes or less:

I live in Toronto, having finally started "real life" a little over a year ago. So far that's consisted of working (I'm in market research, which I actually very much enjoy most of the time), trying to find an apartment I like (I'm moving again this coming September, but hopefully that'll be it for a while), and spending time with my various groups of friends. I sort of have a cat, but she lives with my parents so I don't get to see her very often. I spend the majority of my leisure time reading, playing video games (mostly in the Guitar Hero/Rock Band family), playing piano, or playing table-top roleplaying games with one of my group of friends (we're going to be starting up a 4th ed D&D game soon, which I'm very much looking forward to).

In terms of writing I've been playing around with it for pretty much as long as I can remember, but never anything too serious. I'm very good at starting things, not that great at finishing them. My most recent completed project was actually a gift for my best friend, who asked for an "undead army story" when we met in our first year of university (it only took me 5 years to finish a 40 page story. Eesh). Part of the problem is that I've had to develop my "business writing voice" for my job, and in the process lost my "fiction writing voice", so I'm hoping being part of this community will help out with that.

And that's me!

Babble stuff

2008-06-14T17:55:08Z

[Note: lj entry was actually written yesterday, but since I am sans wireless internet at the moment there was a slight delay in posting. Anyway, onwards!]

Well I’m not quite sure how it happened, but I’ve become one of those people who takes a vacation day from work to run around doing chore stuff. Today (Friday the 13th, ooooh) I actually took the day off work to get a number of things done, some of which I’ve been putting off for months. But I managed to complete every one of my tasks, so I’d call it a successful day.

First I went to the bank. Finally set up a retirement/savings/stop spending all my money plan. Also applied for a new visa (approved) and upped the limit on my current visa (approved), so I have lots more fake money to play with. Not that I plan on abusing that. Apparently I have an “excellent credit rating”, and I’d like for it to stay that way. Still. Good to have.

After the bank I made my way to Best Buy where I handed over my laptop to be fixed. A while ago (at least a month now) the case around the monitor split front-to-back. The really annoying thing is I didn’t even do anything to cause it. So that’s gone for at least 14 business days, to see what can be done. I do have my work laptop to get me through the ordeal, but it doesn’t have wireless internet so it’s not an ideal fix. Of course, I also have my PS2, 360, and piano to keep me entertained… who says I’m greedy?

After that was clothes shopping (ugh) and lunch, neither of which were at all interesting. Came home for a brief stop and to check my email before heading down to Union to catch the 2:43 GO train to Oakville, where my doctor is. Had a very brief appointment, accomplished everything that needed to be accomplished, and caught the 5:00 train back to Union. Subway up to Yonge & Eg, pitstop at Second Cup, and finally arrived home shortly after 6. So, for a day off, I didn’t get much of a break. But. Productive, pleased with myself, all good things.

Actually, today was kind of a continuation of a lot of little changes/improvements that have been going on in the past couple weeks. I finally got around to telling Ashley that I’m planning on getting my own place in September. I got two new pairs of glasses (which will arrive next week), I had a quick performance review with Gord at work and while it wasn’t fantastic it was all what I expected. Playing more piano, spending more time with friends, sort of getting back into swimming (thanks to introducing Shawn to the pool and his decision to swim twice a week). Generally speaking, June has been an extremely productive month.

Quick tangent to do a belated weekend review of last weekend: Friday I went for dinner with the Chau/Jason crowd and had a very nice time. Although I definitely ate way too much food, and felt kind of sick when walking to the subway. Saturday evening Shawn came over for swimming, then we watched movies (Semi Pro and Charlie Wilson’s War), which took us close to the last subway of the night so he decided to crash on the couch. Played a bunch of Rock Band, watched the first episode of Life, and I finally toddled off to bed around 4:30. I very much enjoy couch-surfing evenings, but they never result in much sleep. Managed to doze until around 9:30 on Sunday (stupid East-facing window), had breaky, played more Rock Band, and booted Shawn out around noon. BY which I mean I joined him on the subway on my way to Sab’s for Pat’s birthday BBQ. Which was awesome. I think I ate more or less constantly from i1:30 until 8:00. Had a really great time hanging out with folks, played Frisbee, more Rock Band, eventually headed home so I could pass out and recuperate. All in all, fantastic weekend. Also very much highlights my three distinct groups of friends, but there we are.

The rest of the month looks to be pretty good. Hopefully finalizing my new apartment next week, working a couple of events, swimming starting the new D&D game, very awesome. In terms of the rest of the summer, in July I’ll be going to Jamie’s cottage for either a C-House reunion, a RAP invasion, or a Tin/Jamie lazy weekend extravaganza. Also hoping to hit Medieval Times with Jamie, so we’ll see about that.

August, though, is the big event month. Going to the Bills/Steelers pre-season game with my dad and Shawn. This is actually the first of 3 Bills games we’ll be going to, which Im totally psyched about. Then, of course, on the 27th is my birthday and the Avenue Q uber-adventure, which I have been looking forward to since March. Family, friends, food, fantastic show, I’m so excited it’s ridiculous.

Wow. I had some stuff I could probably whine about, but after all that I’m in a good mood and just looking forward to all the awesome stuff coming up. So I’m going to end there, and save the whining for another day.

Portrait of a Bootler

2008-04-12T14:34:17Z

Slightly delayed (as usual) response to the icon meme. Icon's selected by pyat

1. Reply to this post, and I will pick four of your icons.
2. Make a post (including the meme info) and talk about the icons I chose.
3. Other people can then comment to you and make their own posts.

1. Serve:

This is actually part of a pair illustrating "better to rule in hell than serve in heaven". Of course, for some people it's the other way around... I like the pair, tho.

Also, since I don't use it very often, rule:

2. Bootler:

This is an illustration of the Bootler, which has been my longest nicname, coming from when I was a camp counselor in Oakville. The icon was actually made by talonne, because she's awesome.

3. Werewolf:

This is one of my more recent icons. I originally picked it to go with posts about the Werewolf game that I've joined with Sab and company (which I actually haven't really done at all.... it's a great game, tho!). Now it's more or less used when rambling/complaining about my occasional feeling of "otherness" from people around me.

4. Cuba:

This is actually a picture taken on the beach in Cuba. I went there for vacation with a group of friends after graduating from Trent. One of my most favourite vacations ever.