Iron Dreams

don't forget i love, i love, i love you...

2006-11-18T23:21:22Z

Hey, look! Fourteen and fifteen! I'm behind on posting these, as well as behind on writing new ones. I've been busy... :( But, I have confidence! (in sunshine, etc.)

Please supply the starving author with your feedback? Pretty please?

Chapter 14
“The reverse side also has a reverse side.”
Japanese proverb

Daireann trembled with her sobs as she held the girl-King’s spasming body. Her cries were almost unbearable, filled with pain and desperation, and Daireann several times debated holding her hands over her ears to drown out the screams, or maybe magicking them silent. She knew they would only echo in her mind, however, so she decided not to interfere. All she could do was sit and wait.
*
“It was not very far in the past,” Ice began as she entered the library without a word of greeting, simply launching directly into her story. “In fact, in Earth-time, it was likely something close to this month and the one previous to it. There were eleven of us, which is a number of most sacred importance among the unicorns, because it is the age at which a young unicorn then becomes major, an adult. Eleven of us, yes, four males and seven females. I was the youngest, as I have only three-hundred years, but there was an old one, a wise one, who had seven-hundred years travelled the land.
“It was a sunny day, a good one for walking. We were venturing to the land beyond the river for the first time in certainly a century or more. I was in the forefront of the group as we neared the river. Its banks were shaded by wonderful, glorious apricot trees, and we bent our heads to taste the sweet, ripe fruit. While our guard was not at its highest point, we were ambushed by a group of menacing human men with long unkempt beards tangled with vines and matted with dirt. They surprised us with their wicked magic, and there was no time to defend ourselves or flee. They smelled overpoweringly of earth, which was why we had been unable to detect their presence earlier. Before we had time to blink, the bad men had us surrounded, herded together, and they were forcing us to shift into human form, knowing full well that unicorns have little or no control over their magic when in unnatural bodies.”
Ice was shaking as she lowered herself into a chair next to the desk on which the lamp sat. The lamp tilted toward her sympathetically, and she reached out a hand to touch its base for comfort, as if gathering strength to continue with her story.
“There were only ten of them for the eleven of us, so they elected to defer me for later since my horn being younger made it therefore less desirable.” She took a deep breath. “They bound me to one of the apricot trees whose fruit we had so recently savoured. And I watched.” She choked back a sob. “I watched as they knelt in their filthy leather garments on the naked backs of my friends until many of them lost the command of their bladders. Then the men began to crack their horns at the bases, one by one, with the most gruesome sound which it might be possible to hear without travelling to the very depths of hell.” Tears were streaming down her face. She coughed; she was having difficulty talking.
“It’s okay,” the lamp soothed. “Go on when you’re ready.” She dimmed her light softly, holding Ice in her glow.
Ice sniffed rather violently, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “There is nothing I can say that will properly describe for you the wrenching that was taking place in my chest, my heart. Those without horns do not know the pain of having them broken, or watching others have theirs broken.”
The lamp nodded sadly. “You are correct. I do not understand and never will. I cannot know physical pain, not even of the sympathetic sort. But I feel pain when my friends do. An animated inanimate I may be, but I am not devoid of empathy. Take as long as you need. I will listen.”
Ice smiled weakly. “I have not had a friend since, well, that day. I would be proud to call you thusly.” She paused. “When a unicorn’s horn is broken, he or she no longer can muster the will to be continuing with life. I realised I was the only one left with the chance to begin anew. I concentrated my full will on the ropes binding my wrists. Because of my young age, I was more resilient than the others, and I realised that I could undo the knots of the ropes if I wanted this badly enough.
“Of course I wanted such a thing very badly.
“I had the ropes untied, and I was prepared to make my escape as the men tried to salvage every tiny sliver of bone that had once been the gloriously beautiful horns of my friends. Condensing all my energy into a small sphere in my mind, I melded with the tree to which I had been tied.
“I do not know when the men first noticed I was gone, or what happened to the bodies of my friends. I made my way to the Hidden Glen, where the rightful girl-King is sheltered. All creatures know she is a good friend to each and every one who requests her help. It took many months, but she helped me to shed the sorrow that choked me. And now I am here, looking guard of the house of her half-sister, the Shyheart.”
*
“At least you’ll make them wait on you tonight, yes? Niall?” Etain pouted. “I want to see David’s face when I touch his pet.”
Niall cackled. “You are wicked, dear sister. All right. I’ll play your little game. But behave yourself. I’ll have no open confrontation at my table.”
Etain clapped her hands together gleefully. “Ha! I’m going to have such fun with them!”
*
Aibhlinn’s bones were beginning to ache. It had not been a smooth ride, what with the rocky terrain and strange weavings between trees, on and off of paths and doubling back on their trail... It was not called the Hidden Glen for a joke; it was truly hidden, and it was vital to the success of the mission of the court-in-hiding that it stay that way.
Jouncing along in the saddle when it had literally been decades since she last sat a horse was an experience Aibhlinn hoped she would never have to repeat. Her legs were sore, and her head was throbbing. The only thing that kept her going was the determination that she simply could not ask Eirnin and Lucy to rest. They might think her weak, and she so longed to please her new friends. So she straightened her back, sat tall in the saddle, and carried on, uncomplaining.
Lucy, meanwhile, was trying every trick she knew to avoid thinking of the other woman. Her feelings were so convoluted that she didn’t know where to begin unravelling them. Aibhlinn was infuriating, positively infuriating, with that ingratiating smile, a little unsure of herself, and the way she combed her fingers through her hair when she was nervous. What was her deal, exactly? She’d abandoned her own people to teach magic to the few humans still willing to learn. She felt no loyalty for her father, but she was willing to attempt an incredibly old and little understood blood-bonding spell to help a half-sister she had never met, hadn’t even known about until she met Ratt Butler.
A riddle, that one, Lucy thought, keeping her eyes on the barely visible path in front of her.
*
“Dispatch a message, won’t you, brother? Command them to be here this evening.”
Niall called a messenger into the room. He dictated a quick but strongly worded ‘invitation’ and turned to Etain. “Happy now?”
“Mm, deliciously.”

Chapter 15“Some people are always late, like the late King George V."
Spike Milligan

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt lived in a beach-side villa on the coast of Elba, where he was very ‘friendly’ with Napoleon’s ghost. Soon, however, Napoleon became bored with John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt and decided to take over the world. (Surprise!) But his true objective was to possess a French man and eat massive amounts of shrimp. After realising his own lack of reaction to these ghastly thoughts, he promptly took his medicine and began again to think of how many oranges he could eat without getting a stomachache. The oranges he ate were genetically enhanced with estrogen, and he began to grow breasts that became so large he eventually had to have two tiny Hispanic servants called Juan and Carlos to wheelbarrow them around for him. So he got surgery to change his gender, and he (that is, she) took over the world with his (er, her) augmented bosoms... There was a loud bang, and then some snapping sounds. She no longer had bosoms, but the world was still hers, and also there was a monkey that fed her grapes sometimes. Sometimes, though, the monkey fed her cherry pie, and this made her very sad, so she went to Home Depot to buy a new carpet. Cherry pie got all over the place, so she made sweet love to the music of Elvis Costello.
Don’t do drugs.

Previous installments:
Chapter One
Chapters Two, Three, and Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapters Seven and Eight
Chapters Nine and Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen

XIII.

2006-11-15T04:12:40Z

Aha, chapter 13! More gay sex! And then... humour! Oh man, it just gets better and better, doesn't it? My characters are running away with my plot, sigh.

Chapter 13
“Life is like playing a violin in public and learning the instrument as one goes on.”
Samuel Butler

Aibhlinn sat nervously on her horse, a tall grey stallion called Breannan. It was no wonder he’d been given a name that meant ‘prince’; she had never met a more noble, majestic animal in all her days. His coat shone dark like steel, and his mane and tail were coal flecked with silver. He was clearly a levelheaded creature, but she’d been duly warned that he had a tendency to be high-strung as well. She had once been a confident horsewoman. For a long time now, though, she had generally travelled by bicycle, and she even owned an automobile for getting to places more than twenty miles from the cottage on the hill. She hoped she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.
Breannan began to prance excitedly. Aibhlinn clicked her tongue at him almost reflexively, and he stopped. Lord Eirnin had at that moment ridden up next to them on a handsome bay gelding. “Very nice, Lady Aibhlinn. He likes you.” Eirnin smiled warmly at her. He had a habit of doing that, of making her feel like family. Well, she suspected he maybe felt more than loyalty to her sister, so maybe he’d become family in time. She’d like that, Aibhlinn thought. She hadn’t had a family in a long time. Missed it, sometimes. Oh dear, her thoughts were getting away with her again.
Lucy appeared on Aibhlinn’s other side mounted on a sweet little mare the colour of new-polished brass. Ratt Butler was peeking out of her saddlebag, and she was trailed by the pageboy on a dun pony and the youngest of the centaurs, the one who had been in the group that had met Aibhlinn when she arrived at the farmhouse-fortress. She noticed appreciatively that his chocolate coat and intelligent blue eyes were set off by milky skin.
“My lord,” Lucy said with a nod. “Esmerelda from the kitchen sends her best wishes along with the bread and wine. Eric has the latest batch of dried herbs in his saddlebag.” She gestured towards the pageboy.
“And Starling? What are the feelings of your Council of Elders?” Eirnin asked.
“They wish us to do all we can for the young lady, and they send me as their representative to follow your sister’s bidding,” said the centaur with a deferential nod. “And they also send their fond regards to the Shyheart. They know she has worked hard to correct the misconceptions about centaurs that are still prevalent among the humans.”
“It is the least I could have done,” Aibhlinn murmured as Starling took her hand and kissed it with surprisingly soft lips.
“Let’s off, then?” Lucy was anxious to be gone. She would lead the way, which meant she didn’t have to look at Aibhlinn’s beautiful, troubled, faraway eyes anymore. Her feelings toward the girl-King’s sister put her on edge, and Lucy didn’t like being put on edge. She was used to being in control of her emotions.
“Away to the Hidden Glen,” Eirnin declared. He and Lucy wheeled their horses around and rode through the gate onto a narrow path.
For the hundredth time since her strange meeting of Ratt Butler, Aibhlinn wondered what she was doing here.
*
Laurie wept as Daisy crushed their mouths together. His hands shook, gripping Daisy’s shoulders in an attempt to steady himself. Daisy pulled back, concerned.
“Are you okay?”
“Please... Just do it,” Laurie begged.
“I’ll go slowly, yeah?” Daisy suggested. His lover nodded. He began to kiss Laurie again, mouth closed and soft. He pushed a strand of blond hair out of Laurie’s eyes and began to stroke his face from cheek to chin. “Shh,” he soothed. “I love you,” Daisy whispered. “I love you so much. I’d bottle your tears and drink them, weave you a necklace of my hair and hang a star from it as a pendant, take an arrow or a bullet or a cannonball or a nuclear missile for you. If you loved me a thousandth of how much I love you, I’d know it was enough,” Daisy declared softly, his lips brushing Laurie’s ear.
Laurie began to smile through his tears. “When you’re inside me, my heart stops, and then it pounds so hard I think it’s going to explode because I love you so much.”
Daisy began to kiss him again in earnest, rolling them in the bed so that he lay over Laurie. Pausing for breath, he murmured, “I’ll recite Shakespearean sonnets and sing you Beatles songs, hold your hand in the dark, make cliche confessions, watch the sunrise with you, and anything and everything lovers have done together since the dawn of time. His voice took on a touch of feigned melodrama as he kissed his way down Laurie’s throat. “I’ll sprinkle your pillow with rose petals and feed you chocolate and take you to the beach and go swimming with you naked.”
Laurie giggled. “I’ll cook you dinner in a ruffled apron and call you ‘sweetie’ and pay for your popcorn at the movie theatre.” He raked his nails lightly over Daisy’s back. “We can pretend to be humans for a day and go to the carnival and ride the Ferris wheel, and get our picture done in a photo booth.”
Daisy licked a trail up Laurie’s smooth chest. “I’ll wear your ring,” he challenged, looking Laurie right in the eye as he reached down to cup their hardening cocks together.
Laurie’s breath hitched. “Ohh, Daisy...”
“Yeah. I’ll wear your ring, and you’ll wear mine, and then I’ll fuck you until you can’t sit for a week. I’ll have you screaming my name and biting down on your own fist while I make you come so many times you can’t keep track of them.”
Laurie’s eyes rolled back in his head a little at this. “We don’t have to wait for the rings,” he breathed. “Do it now. I–” He faltered. Dirty talk wasn’t his specialty. “I want you,” he finished simply.
It was the right thing to say. He could hardly have picked a better sentence to encapsulate their desire for one another, and thus drive Daisy wild with need for him. He was so turned on he couldn’t speak and instead slid down Laurie’s body. He grabbed the narrow hips to hold them still and took the long, slim cock into his mouth.
Laurie cried out. “Ah! Daisy, gods...” Daisy began to suck a little, even as Laurie grabbed his head to push him down further. “Your mouth is so hot!” he cried. Daisy smiled around his erection, and Laurie threw back his head in ecstasy. “More,” he moaned weakly. Daisy obliged, simultaneously lifting a finger to Laurie’s mouth for him to suck on. Laurie did so eagerly, moaning. Daisy took him deeper and proffered another finger. He could feel the muffled screams up through his arm. He withdrew his fingers.
“I’m so close,” Laurie whimpered.
Daisy doubled his efforts, taking his lover deep into his throat and trailing a saliva wet finger over his puckered entrance.
“Yes, Daisy, please... want you– in me,” he panted.
Maddeningly slowly, Daisy pushed a finger into him, past the tight ring of muscle.
“Mmm, I can’t take it!”
With a deep breath through his nose, Daisy swallowed Laurie’s cock almost to the base and brushed the cluster of nerves inside him. Laurie screamed.
“I’m c–!”
Daisy swallowed it all. When Laurie stopped convulsing, he pulled back to lick his lips contentedly. Laurie’s jaw dropped at such a wantonly erotic display, but he didn’t have long to think about it as Daisy twisted the finger that was still inside him. Still feeling rather sensitive, Laurie clenched his eyes shut against the pleasure so intense it was painful. Daisy added another finger, kissing Laurie and feeling his lover’s groan vibrating in his own mouth.
Laurie arched up against him. Daisy’s erection was straining, and Laurie gave a little gasp. He was so hard that it had to hurt, but he hadn’t complained or rushed them.
“You don’t have to be a martyr for me,” Laurie murmured. He shifted out from under Daisy and flipped them over, straddling his lover’s waist. Daisy was gazing up at him, eyes a dark indigo and clouded over with lust. Laurie never felt as wonderfully beautiful as when Daisy was staring at him from below with haunted, longing eyes as if he would devour him simply by looking. Laurie shivered.
“’snot martyrdom with you. Never. I could watch you all day,” Daisy rasped. “Could please you forever.”
Laurie’s cheeks coloured. “Still,” he said, gripping Daisy’s cock behind him, “let’s take care of this, shall we?” He spread the fluid leaking from the slit at the top over Daisy’s achingly hard erection and lifted his own hips. Daisy took his lower lip between his teeth, realising what was about to happen, and tried to brace himself. Nothing, however, could prepare him for the heat and tightness as Laurie lowered himself onto Daisy’s cock.
“Fuck,” he swore. “You feel amazing.” Laurie was completely still for a moment, waiting for his body to adjust to Daisy’s girth. Then he began to rock back and forth, the barest of movements, but it was enough to have Daisy moaning desperately. “Gods, Laurie,” he breathed. Laurie gave him a shaky smile and began to raise and lower his hips rhythmically, hands braced against Daisy’s chest. Daisy wondered what he had done to deserve this incredible thing, but coherent thought fled the moment Laurie combined his up-and-down motion with the back-and-forth one. He sucked in a sharp breath and gripped Laurie’s hips. “Kiss me,” he begged. Laurie leaned forward without breaking his rhythm, and the kissed, tongues sliding wetly against one another. Laurie could still taste himself a little on Daisy’s tongue, and he spasmed, muscles clamping down on Daisy’s cock.
Daisy jerked his head back reflexively, digging his heels into the mattress and arching off the bed. His fingers clenched so hard on Laurie’s hips they would probably leave bruises. Laurie squirmed.
“You’re so big,” Laurie moaned. “I feel... so full with you inside me.”
Daisy gasped for breath. Had his shy, sweet-tongued lover really just said that? He thought he might choke on his own lust.
He began to thrust up, meeting Laurie’s movements inch for inch. Laurie licked a trail up his jawline, clenching and unclenching his inner muscles purposefully, delighting in Daisy’s helpless cries. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered, mouthing Daisy’s ear gently.
Daisy groaned. He could feel Laurie’s cock, hardening once more, pressed between their stomachs. “I want to watch you touch yourself,” he whispered hoarsely. Laurie exhaled in a whoosh, his hot breath ghosting over Daisy’s ear as he sat up. Daisy’s hungry eyes made him blush as he reached a tentative hand down to stroke himself. “That’s it,” Daisy encouraged. Laurie made a fist. He jerked, shocked at how good his own hand felt. Daisy smiled lazily.
“You’re beautiful.”
Laurie moaned and sped up the motions of his hand, shifting his hips. “Ah! Right there!” He threw back his head, blond hair trailing down his back, the tips brushing along Daisy’s thighs.
“I’m– Laurie, I’m going to–!” Laurie began to come, shooting ropy white jets over his own stomach and Daisy’s chest. His muscles clamped down on Daisy’s cock, and then he was coming, too, flying off the bed to clasp his lover to him. They fused together at the mouth, breathing one another’s breath.
Spent and panting heavily, they fell back onto the bed.
And someone’s leg.
Daisy shrieked. Laurie jumped. The body flinched and awoke sleepily. It was a curvy blonde woman, a human. As she rubbed her eyes, Daisy noticed that she was accompanied by a very young man with soft, shaggy black hair, who was holding his head and groaning.
“Who are you?” Laurie asked incredulously.
She blinked. “Where am I?”
“Oh no, our bed, which means you answer first,” Daisy declared.
“I’m... Theresa. Terry, computer programmer, burlesque performer extraordinaire. Now, apart from, well, your bed, where the fuck am I?” she demanded. Behind her, her companion was slowly rousing himself.
“Just outside of Twin-lights, in the domain of Niall, the Prince Regent.” Daisy interrupted himself. “But you wouldn’t have any idea what that means. You’re a human, aren’t you?”
Terry blinked. “A human? Yeah, sure. Why, are you guys something else?” she asked sarcastically.
Daisy and Laurie exchanged a look. “I thought humans were still aware of magic?” Laurie asked. “Or maybe it’s an American thing?”
“Oh, I’d heard that most of them don’t really believe in it anymore, but not to have heard of it?” Daisy looked sceptical.
By this time, Jason was awake, though groggy, and a little hungover. “You’re fairies, aren’t you?” he piped up.
All heads turned towards him.
“Yeah. They always told me when I was a little kid to stop being so ridiculous, but I knew fairies were real. I told you, Terry. I knew you didn’t believe me. You thought I was just daydreaming, like they all did. But look, I was right! Oh, man. This is some crazy shit. What the heck is going on?”
Daisy shrugged. “Got me. I was hoping you could tell us if you recognised the magic that brought you here, since you recognised us as fairies and all.”
Jason shook his head. “Sorry.”
Laurie, meanwhile, was stealthily trying to clean his stomach with a corner of the sheet while covering his obvious nudity. Daisy snickered. “No need to stand on ceremony, my dear. In case you failed to notice, our guests aren’t ecaxtly dressed for high society, either.” Laurie shot him a dirty glare.
“Hey, hold on a minute. Why am I the only one who has introduced herself?” Terry inquired. “Who are you guys?”
“Well, Terry, I’m David, and this is Laurence. But if we’re going to be friends, and I suspect we are, since we’re already about as intimate as acquaintances can get, you can call us Daisy and Laurie. And your friend? Does he have a name?”
“I’m Jason Fujiwara,” he replied for her.
“Interesting. I thought you looked Asian,” Laurie remarked. He had a secret fascination with all things Asian, particularly the people. Daisy often teasingly suggested that he should hire a geisha for Laurie’s next birthday.
“Half Japanese,” Jason explained.
“And half...? Why is it you know how to recognise a fairy?” Laurie asked curiously.
Jason made a face. “I told you I daydreamed about them all the time when I was a kid, only they weren’t really daydreams. It was like watching a movie.” He backpedaled. “Do you guys know what a movie is?”
Daisy sniffed. “We’re fairies, not culturally retarded,” he replied.
Jason giggled. “Okay, so, I had these crazy involved visions or whatever, and for some reason, I always knew what was going on, even if it didn’t make sense for me to know. You know?”
“Um...” Daisy gesticulated for him to continue. “Not really.”
“I mean, I could tell if someone was, like, a fairy or a centaur or a human or some variety of deity or a unicorn or whatever. When I was really little, before I knew the names, I could just see the differences. But when I got older, I realised I knew what to call all the races of magical creatures even though I’d never learned it anywhere. I kept my mouth shut, though. My family taught me pretty early on that society looks down on people who see things that others can’t. That’s why I always talked to the crazy people in the park or at the bus stop and gave them a cup of coffee or a sandwich or something. I figured I was about a step away from where they were, and that was just because I’d learned to be quiet about fairies and other worlds and all that.”
Daisy and Laurie were staring at him, rapt, while Terry just looked disbelieving.
“Are you shitting me, Jason? Is this a dream I’m going to wake up from to find you babbling about whatever it is you babble about?” she asked, a little nervy.
“Hey, I know it’s weird. A lot weirder for you than for me, since you didn’t exactly have the warning I had. But try to stay calm. No one here means us any harm. We’ll just figure out what’s happening and how to get back,” Jason assured her calmly. Laurie mentally noted his level-headedness. Daisy could take a few pointers from this kid.
“Don’t worry, Terry. We’ll do everything in our power to figure this out,” Daisy pronounced gallantly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m a little exhausted–” he looked in Laurie’s direction and cleared his throat– “and I’d like to get to sleep. You’re welcome to stay here and sleep as well, or there’s a kitchen and a bathroom and so on.” He stretched out on the king-sized mattress and pulled Laurie close, spooning him.
Jason glanced at Terry. “I don’t know about you, but I could definitely sleep for a few more days.” Terry nodded, and they fell back onto the bed. At first, they tried to keep a respectful distance from their bedmates, what with the nakedness and the practically being strangers and all, but Daisy and Jason were both fidgety and a little feline about their sleeping arrangements. They tossed and turned until all four of them were simply a mass of sleepy beings.
Slowly, one by one, they drifted off to dream strange dreams.

Previous installments:
Chapter One
Chapters Two, Three, and Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapters Seven and Eight
Chapters Nine and Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve

oh, when the day is blue i'll sit here wondering about you...

2006-11-12T07:55:27Z

12. Sorry, I've been slacking. Um, graphic hetero sex. If, for some reason, that bothers you... What the hell are you doing here? Do you know me? I'm always going to be writing about sex of one kind or another.
Anyway. Enjoy. Reviews would be nice.

Chapter 12
“All night by the rose, rose
All night by the rose I lay
Darf ich nought the rose stele
And yet ich bar the flour away.”

The fish were getting restless. Granted, as goldfish, they had attention spans of approximately five seconds, so they weren’t, as a rule, able to make significant connections between events. But there was a vague nagging felt by both Viv and Larry that something was different. For one thing, hadn’t their home been a lot less interesting once? So why couldn’t it be something different again? And didn’t it need to be cleaned a little more often? They weren’t really sure, and of course these thoughts were never so coherent or in any way linear. Still. Goldfish can tell when something is wrong, too.
*
Terry, at twenty-two, was old enough to order a bottle of wine with their room service, and she took advantage of this. She loved getting Jason drunk. Sure, he was a funny guy to begin with. But he was a little over-careful with her when sober, owing to, she suspected, one particularly debauched evening when they had ended up in the shower together, doing all sorts of kinky things. She had tried to make it clear to him that she wouldn’t mind a little sex every now and then, as long as it didn’t fuck up the dynamic of their friendship. But Jason was incredibly respectful of Terry’s wishes, even when it became apparent that she didn’t really have any in that department.
Terry poured Jason his third glass while she was still nursing her second. Good. This was going according to plan, then.
*
Lucy studied her intently. She was something special, anyway. A real fighter, a true believer. Lucy had always resented the fact that she was bound to serve Lord Eirnin’s household just because her parents had lacked judgment and backed the wrong side in a war that was over before she was born. She never thought anything could alter her situation, though, and she had long since resigned herself to serving out the rest of her mother’s thousand-year debt.
And yet, within a single day of meeting this interloper, this upstart– granted, she was a fairy like the rest of them, but she had chosen to leave her ancestral home and live among the humans that she might teach them something of the nature of magic. She had fire, and passion, certainly. She had managed to give Lucy the briefest hope that she might be determined enough to make things different.
But a cynic of three hundred years is not cured so easily. No matter her good intentions and her idealism, it was highly possible that Aibhlinn would just turn out to be another well-meaning noble who had no idea of the true workings of the world. Lucy felt sorry for her, someone clearly not used to relying on anyone or having anyone rely on her. Now she’d gotten herself wrapped up in this thing that was bigger than any of them, and she looked so lost. It was almost sweet, Lucy thought.
*
The lamp had been silent since Aibhlinn’s departure. Always somewhat shy, it had become positively reclusive since the house’s mistress had been gone. So naturally, Mrs Dewbright was rather surpried to hear two voices from behind the library door as she walked past. She paused, ears up.
“...must be terribly lonely,” Ice sighed.
“Not especially. I’ve always been an outsider, watching the others,”the lamp explained. “I used to talk to Lady Aibhlinn sometimes, while she was writing. She wrote quite a lot. I believe she is very respected in magical circles, though of course there are few humans patient enough to undertake the study of magic nowadays; they seem to think their technology is close enough. And maybe it is. I’m a perfect example, after all.” The lamp sighed a little sadly. “But you? Why are you really here? Why aren’t you a unicorn anymore?
“I must not undertake to tell of it. Sanity is the fragile thing to hold on to already.”
“But you shouldn’t keep things like that all to yourself, either. Lady Aibhlinn always did that, and I learned to tell when her secrets were weighing especially heavily on her. Please unburden yourself to me, my dear. I won’t tell a soul, ever.”
Ice murmured something that was too low for Mrs Dewbright to hear. She gave a bitter laugh. “Please save your warnings for another. I am not worthy to be the object of concern.”
“I’ll wait for you, then. Whenever you’re ready. I hope you’ll come to me.”
Ice made a vague noise of assent.
*
It took a full hour before Laurie came back to himself.
When his bright eyes shot open and his chapped lips whispered “water”, Daisy fell on him, weeping.
“My gods, Laurie, I was so frightened for you!” Daisy kissed him desperately. Tears gushed down his cheeks as he stood reluctantly, not wanting to let his lover out of his sight for even a moment. He fetched a glass of water in record time and helped Laurie sit up, holding the glass to his lips tenderly while he drank in long, grateful swallows.
“Laurie,” Daisy sobbed. “That was horrible. I couldn’t tell if you were still breathing, still alive.”
Finishing off the water, Laurie glanced up, a predatory look flashing in his eyes. “Don’t cry, Daisy. I...” He blushed. “I know it’s strange, but I want you again.”
Daisy recoiled in shock. “What?”
“I, well, for some reason, I have this feeling that the only way to erase these awful pictures in my head is to, you know, do it with someone I care for.” Laurie averted his gaze modestly. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it was even worse this time. Not just the images. Whole scenes played out in front of us– me and the girl. There were unicorns, but some bad men tricked them into assuming human form and then raped them and stole their horns.”
Daisy gasped. There could be nothing more purely evil than taking a creature as beautiful and immaculate as a unicorn against its will. He felt nauseated and clutched his stomach almost unconsciously.
Laurie nodded. “That wasn’t the worst part, though. But I can’t bring myself to speak of it. I feel like I’ll be ill if I...” He went white.
“Laurie?” Daisy asked urgently, clasping his shoulder.
Laurie waved his hand away. “No, no. I’m fine. I just can’t think about it.” He turned towards Daisy. “Please, help me take my mind off it. Please.” Laurie’s eyes were pleading pathetically, and how could Daisy say no? He reached out a shaky hand and pulled their faces close together.
*
Jason was well into his sixth glass of wine, giggling and rolling around on the floor, running into the bedroom for a pillow to bury his face in, making suggestive comments about the cartoon characters on the television. Terry watched him, amazed. He didn’t look dizzy or anything, just having an incredibly good time. As he rolled onto his back, she crawled over to him and sat on his stomach with her knees on either side of his chest.
“Gotcha,” she teased. He cocked his head at her.
“Why, you gonna eat me or something?” Only Jason could pull off that effortless drunken facetiousness, she thought admiringly.
She shook her head. “Not unless you ask me.”
Jason grinned wickedly. “Mean it?”
Terry took a moment to think. Was he just trying to up the ante, play a game of emotional Chicken? Or was he serious? He wasn’t an insincere guy, but he could take a joke pretty far. Finally, she decided that the move was hers and he’d either be out of the game or in it for real after her turn. “Mmm, sure. You’re delicious.” She gave him a wink.
Jason’s eyes widened. Either he hadn’t known she was serious and he was shocked in a bad way, or he had been hoping she was serious and was pleasantly surprised. Terry shrugged. Both options were fine by her, and she leaned in for a clumsy, wine-flavoured kiss. It took a moment, but Jason was soon returning the favour, and he reached up to tangle his fingers in her hair.
“Mmm,” she moaned low in her throat. She could already feel him stiffening; Jason always got it up pretty quickly. She shifted her body slightly lower against his and felt his groan reverberate through both their bodies. She smiled against his lips. “Delicious indeed.”
He growled and used all of his weight to throw her over and switch their positions. He was lying over her, between her knees, and he pressed her into the floor. “What did you put in that wine?” he muttered. She giggled and licked his Adam’s apple. She loved the smooth column of his throat; she usually ended up with stubbly guys, and they were about as fun to lick as sandpaper. But Jason had his father’s inability to grow facial hair as well as the silky black hair on his head.
Terry nuzzled his neck, inhaling the musky, wine-coloured scent he was giving off. “You smell delicious, too,”she purred. “Goodness. I’m just going to eat you up.”
Jason was panting and thrusting his hips against hers. “I want you so bad,” he breathed, biting her earlobe. Terry arched back, tugging against his teeth and intensifying the sensations the bite produced. She slipped her hands under his shirt and pulled away so she could slip it off over his head. Her hands roved over his body, delighting in the warm, smooth skin.
“You feel amazing,” she told him, extricating herself from her own shirt.
“Sure,” he panted, “but I’d feel more amazing inside you.” He ground against her, letting her feel how hard he was, and she cried out.
“Indeed,” she murmured. “Let’s do it right, then.” She wriggled out from under him and bounded over to the counter between the kitchen and the lviing area. “Come on,” she teased, crooking her finger at him. He stood up and immediately regretted it; he was aroused enough to make walking painful.
“Shit,” he swore.
“Take off your pants and stay a while,” Terry suggested.
Jason’s energies were concentrated intensely on escaping from his moderately tight jeans without castrating himself. Finally, there he was in his boxers, and he went over to Terry, kissing her needily and lifting her with hands cupped under her bottom. She wiggled against him, sending his mind momentarily into blindingly hot territory. He moaned and set her on the counter, pulling her legs apart and pressing into her.
“Fuck, that’s hot, Jason.”
He shivered. “Ooh, say my name again.” He busied himself with removing her skirt with the minimum loss of contact and tossed it over his shoulder. Faced with her plain white panties, which he found incredibly erotic, he knelt between her legs.
“Mr Fujiwara?” she suggested innocently. He pushed his face against her and began to mouth her through her underwear. His mouth was hot and wet, and her thighs clenched involuntarily. “Holy shit, that feels incredible.” He gave a long, slow lick before slipping a finger under the now-soaked cotton.
“My god, you’re wet.” He worked the finger inside her to the sweet music of her moans, now licking up the inside of her leg. “You’re going to feel so good around my cock.”
Every muscle in her body was tensed as he fingered her, scraping his nail over her clit. “Fuck! Jason, please, inside me now,” she panted, dragging him upright. He kicked off his boxers while she unhooked her bra, and then they were pressed together from lips to hips. He pulled her forward on the counter and guided himself into her slowly. He slid in easily, but the pressure was so much that he had to fight not to come just then. “My god, I forgot how big you are,” Terry groaned. “Unh... More, yes, come on...” He clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the exquisite obscenity and sucked on a nipple as he began to drag himself out of her. Her moans escaped through the gaps between his fingers, and he fought to keep his eyes from clenching shut. Without warning, he slammed back into her, dislodging his hand so that her scream was heard in all its full, throaty power. “Harder!” she cried, and Jason did his best to oblige her.
“Terry,” he rasped. “I can’t... Not much longer.”
She shifted her hips, and he was hitting the perfect spot, driving into her over and over. “Jason,” she moaned. “Aaa, ah!” And she was screaming; her muscles clamped down on him, and he was screaming, too. They clutched each other desperately, nails digging into skin, as they rode out their orgasms together.
They were quiet for a long time, gradually slumping onto the floor and crawling over to the couch, where they fell asleep twined together.

Continue to Chapter Thirteen?

Previous installments:
Chapter One
Chapters Two, Three, and Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapters Seven and Eight
Chapters Nine and Ten
Chapter Eleven

11.

2006-11-10T05:15:16Z

Hey, kids. (Haha, that's funny, because I'm pretty sure almost anyone reading this thing is older than I.)
Anyway, here's 11. It's sorta long. Kinda depressing (yay angst). But Terry and Jason get to have a little fun. I'm totally rooting for them.

Chapter 11
“And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances
And where thy footstep gleams.”
Edgar Allan Poe, “To One in Paradise”

Ice went through her motions mechanically. She grew gaunt; the flesh of her face wasted away, and her cheekbones appeared sharp enough to cut diamonds, her eyes tired and sunken. Mrs Dewbright felt some strangeness radiating from her, but she was hesitant to say anything, after her last idle question had led to Ice’s breakdown. She and the hatstand spent many hours whispering and speculating about the cause of Ice’s wasting away.
They were also concerned for their mistress. Where was she? How was she? What was she doing? Had she ended up doing what she had set out to do? (Not that this question had any real significance, as they hadn’t the faintest idea what it was she had meant to do to begin with.) Their curiosity was piqued, but they felt it might be somehow inappropriate to ask Ice.
So many questions, and not a single answer.
*
Terry turned the key in the ignition of her ancient Toyota Camry. It came groaning to life, and Terry giggled, as she always did at the pathetic sound the car made.
“I don’t think that’s funny, you know,” Jason said in the high-pitched voice he used to signify that he was pretending to be an inanimate object. “You’re clearly torturing me. Why don’t you just put me out of my misery already?”
“Never!” Terry cried. “We’re in this together ’til the end, sweet ol’ car of mine. Now, Jason, where to?”
“Ice cream!” Jason exclaimed happily. “Or a Majestic milkshake.”
“Hmm,” said Terry, pulling the car out of the lot. “Ice cream it is, then.”
“I still can’t believe you... I mean, this is great, but why?”
Terry shrugged. “Why the hell not? He’s hardly the first person to see my naked body. He was just some sadsack middle-aged dude. What could it hurt? And besides, you’ve treated me to dinner five nights running. Oh, and we never do anything crazy.”
“I love you, T. Did you know that?”
“Sure, J-dog,” she giggled.
“No, really. I mean, not sexually or anything. You’re a great lay; don’t get me wrong–” she punched him– “but you’re not really my type. I just meant, I don’t exactly have a family. You’re pretty much it. So, I for real totally love you.”
“I’m really flattered, sweetheart. You’re a cool kid, you know? I mean, the fairy stuff is kinda bizarro–” it was his turn to hit her. “No, I’m kidding. I love that about you more than anything, that you have this crazy elaborate fantasy life even though you’re a really down-to-earth and responsible guy. And I like how your favourite hangout is a cemetery, and how you say crazy Zen shit even though you’re not a Buddhist, but everyone thinks you are ‘cause you’re Asian.”
Jason giggled.
“And I love that you can giggle and not be all weird and manly and self-conscious about it. That’s totally hot. You’re going to make someone really happy someday.”
*
Ankle-deep in the frigid water of the creek behind the farmhouse-fortress, Aibhlinn couldn’t have been more anxious. This was supposed to be a calming ritual, this group laundering of things. But Aibhlinn still didn’t know what was really going to be expected of her regarding the question of her sister. And now she had new things to worry about, what with her taking on the cause of equality among fairies and trying to put an end to the outdated system that bordered on slavery, no matter how friendly the relations between master and servant.
And Lucy.
Lucy was truly bewitching, though she certainly didn’t realise it. Aibhlinn had never had much interest in men, which some assumed was the reason she was called Shyheart (it wasn’t, and very few people knew the true reason). But she hadn’t felt a particular interest in women, either, and it was strange to find herself suddenly, maddeningly drawn into... whatever it was she was feeling for Lucy.
She scrubbed violently at the wine-stain she had made the previous evening on the tablecloth. Cleaning had always provided her with a release denied to religion of profanity, the two most popular refuges among those humans (and even some fairies) of her acquaintance. Nearby, others were singing and laughing and talking, but Aibhlinn was caught up in her own thoughts and a vague, nagging desperation that had evolved from her typical fears of inadequacy. To think that she should be trusted with a task of such magnitude! She was used to fighting for global causes, not individual persons, and never had she so felt the weight of responsibility. What if something went wrong? What if she was unable to save the sister of whose existence she had just learned? So many things could go badly.
Aibhlinn was snapped out of her nervous reverie when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, and narrowly avoided screaming.
She heard a masculine laugh and turned to face Lord Eirnin. “My lady. I’m sorry for startling you.” His eyes glinted with mirth. Aibhlinn muttered something unintelligible about being less oblivious. “I only wanted to tell you that we had planned to make the journey to where your sister is being housed early on the morrow,” he told her.
Aibhlinn nodded.
Something troubled in her gaze caught Eirnin’s attention. “Shyheart, what is the matter?” he inquired gently. Aibhlinn bit her lip, hoping the pressure of tears pushing at the backs of her eyes would go away.
“I simply don’t know what you all expect of me, nor whether I can live up to those expectations,” she explained in a voice that shook with anxiety. I’m frightened, she wanted to say. I’m lonely, probably because I’ve always been lonely and it’s not a treatable illness. I should never have come here. Two seconds later, she mentally kicked herself. How can I even think that? Maybe I’ve never met her, but my sister needs my help!
“Shyheart, you look like you’re going to cry,” Eirnin said gravely, pulling her into a warm hug. At this, there was no way Aibhlinn could stop herself from bursting into tears. She buried her face in Eirnin’s solid chest, which was where her head came to on him, anyhow. He stroked her back. “Shhh, don’t cry, Aibhlinn. We’ll not ask anything of you that you can’t do. Perhaps I should finish telling the story of your sister now?”
Aibhlinn pulled her head back and nodded with teary eyes. “Sorry I’m such a child,” she apologised. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“You’re just tired and scared. Don’t worry; it happens to the best of us. You’ll be fine.”
“Thank you. Now, for the story?”
“Not a story, so much. Only an explanation of why we need your help so desperately.”
“That’s even better.”
“Yes, well. I hear that you are renowned for your magical scholarship; is this correct?”
“Oh, well, reports are probably rather exaggerated. But I’ve tried to read up on anything I could, yes.”
“Then you know that the Sight has not visited this land nor any other for nigh a millennium?” Aibhlinn nodded. “The Sight, it would seem, is the cause of your sister’s brutal visions.” Aibhlinn gasped. “If there were only someone to teach her to control it, it would be so much less painful But of course none of the old masters are left. They have died, or moved on, and she is left helpless and in great agony. But there is a way.”
“And you need me for it, I assume?”
“That is the idea. Perhaps you know something of blood magic?”
“Not very much, I’m afraid,” Aibhlinn admitted. “Books on it are rare in this day, of course.”
Eirnin nodded. “Yes, they would be. But you know the basic principles? Blood bonds, and blood-letting, and so on?”
“Yes, though my ideas are rather sketchy at best.”
“Well, I have been combing the books since your sister began to have these terrible visions, of course. I care for her very deeply.” He trailed off, and a faraway look passed momentarily over his face. “Because she is my King, of course.” Aibhlinn nodded solemnly. Eirnin began talking again a little abruptly. “It so happens that I came across an ancient and unfamiliar spell fairly recently. It seems that if we are able to find someone to share in her Sight, it will be significantly more manageable.”
“And why does it need to be me? I don’t understand.”
“It must be someone with the same blood. You’re her half-sister, and her closest living relative.”
“Do I have a say in the matter?” Aibhlinn asked petulantly.
“Of course! But from what I had heard of your nature, I thought you would be more than happy to volunteer. Were my sources, perhaps, misinformed? If so, I deeply regret having caused you undue vexation.”
“I’ll be happy to help,” Aibhlinn said with a smile.
*
When they pulled up to the front of the hotel, they were still licking their ice cream cones.
“Um, do you know what we do for valet parking?” Terry asked.
“Oh, yeah, right. I’ve spent my whole life shuffling between various fancy hotels, right?” Jason muttered sarcastically. Terry gave him a Look. “Yeah, yeah.” He rolled down his window and called over to the group of men in hotel uniforms standing beside the entrance. “Um,excuse me. We, uh, have a room here. And, we were wondering, um, that is, well...”
“Do you need valet parking?” asked one of the men, approaching the car.
“Yes,” they said in unison, smiling gratefully. Jason had a smear of bubblegum ice cream on his upper lip that most people would have been tempted to lick off. The valet simply walked around to the other side of the car and waited for Terry to get out, never cracking a smile. Jason thought he was like one of the guards at Buckingham Palace, sans the big furry hat, of course.
They went into the lobby. Checking in was something of a hassle– the room that the hotel had originally reserved for them had been given to someone else, and they ended up with a smaller room. Granted, it was still pretty big, and they were offered free room service as compensation, so they didn’t bother complaining.
“‘In-suite dining’?” Terry snickered as they tossed their overnight bags in the bedroom and plopped down in front of the television. “How fucking pretentious is that?”
“Does that mean you don’t want anything? Can I have yours, then?” Jason teased.
“Oh, hell no! Like I’d ever turn down free food.” She gave her ice cream cone a long lick. “Did you see that face on the concierge when I reached for his pen? I mean, damn. Like sticky fingers equal communicable disease or something.”
They giggled.
The conversation continued in much the same vein as they ordered and ate their food, pretending to be disgusted and morally above it all, but secretly awed and having a fabulous time.
*
“I love you,” Laurie whispered, toying fondly with Daisy’s raven locks. Daisy snuggled deeper into his embrace.
“I love you more,” Daisy murmured sleepily.
“Do not!” Laurie protested. Suddenly, he went rigid.
“Laurie?” He didn’t answer. “Laurie, what’s wrong?” Daisy sat up and took his lover by the shoulders and shook him. Laurie had gone deathly white. “Laurie!” Daisy cried, panicky. Laurie began to shake and groan.
Daisy sat helpless by his side, holding his hand, hoping.
*
Daireann had left the court-in-hiding shortly after dinner had ended the previous evening, accompanied by a small escort of servants and men-at-arms. They were mostly for show rather than for protection; Daireann had great control over her magic, especially that which was natural in origin. But a fairy woman walking along a trail off the main road would arouse far more suspicion than if said lady were accompanied by a large entourage.
She was deeply concerned over the latest development in the matter of the girl-King’s dealings with the Sight. A stranger merging with her in her visions? How could that possibly be anything but ominous? And then, there was the part which the cautious by nature Daireann had yet to tell anyone: when she had come out of that truly awful vision in which she had encountered the stranger, she had begun to make all sorts of lewd sexual propositions. Fortunately, no one else had been around to witness this, and the girl-King had soon reverted to her usual, if tortured, self.
But this brought up even more questions. There were no living experts on the Sight, and the few remaining books were convoluted, if they were even written in a language that was still used. Daireann hadn’t the faintest idea on where to search for possible links between the Sight and out-of-character sex-related comments. She had purposefully cut her visit to her brother’s home base short, wanting to return before anyone else accidentally became privy to this unheard-of effect of the girl-Ling’s visions.
She desperately hoped that the new girl, the Lady Aibhlinn, would be of some use. She had not her brother’s faith that this would be so, however. There was something odd about the one they called Aibhlinn Shyheart, and it wasn’t simply because she’d lived so long among humans. Besides, she hardly struck one as the world’s most resolute being, and it might very well happen that she would refuse to go through with the blood-bonding rite that Eirnin had discovered in an ancient text.
No, best not to trust to hope, Daireann thought.

Continue to Chapter Twelve.

Previous installments:
Chapter One
Chapters Two, Three, and Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapters Seven and Eight
Chapters Nine and Ten

nine, ten...

2006-11-09T02:58:45Z

Nine and ten... Sorry it's not much; ten is another of those 'pretend' chapters that's on crack, or maybe acid. Eleven is coming along well; maybe I'll get around to posting it soon.

Oh, and I passed 15K today!!! Partay! That's 30% done, and it's only day 8! But I think I'm getting carpal tunnel, and I'm definitely sleep-deprived. Ah well. Such is the price we pay for our art...

Incidentally, there's a lesbian couple I hadn't anticipated. So, you might get girl-on-girl as well as gay porn before we get to the hetero stuff. I guess if you're reading anything I've written, you probably don't mind. ^^

Chapter 9
“Goe, and catche a falling starre...”
John Donne, “Song”

Ice had cried for a long time two mornings ago, but nothing had been said about it since. There was no more singing in the night, and the house was cheerful and sunny. But it was a hollow cheer, as if darkness were lurking in the corners, waiting for the light to let its guard down. Mrs Dewbright was unhappy and tense, and even the hatstand was fairly subdued. Ice herself tried to act as if nothing had happened, and for the most part she kept up a convincing act. She had changed the fishbowl again, this time into a to-scale replica of the Taj Mahal. She continued to make breakfast and pretended not to notice when nobody ate.

She no longer sang when she did the dishes, however.

“Good morning, Lady Aibhlinn,” Lucy muttered sleepily.

“Mmm,” Aibhlinn replied.

“Time to get up if you want to eat before we all go down to the creek,” Lucy advised her. The pageboy had disappeared, though Ratt Butler was still napping at the foot of the bed.

“What time is it?” Aibhlinn asked groggily.

“Past seven.”

“Oh. Okay. Let’s go get some breakfast then, shall we?”

“Lord Eirnin will want you to dine with him, I’m sure. I’ll eat with the other servants.”

“All right... Oh, wait! I’ve just realised I haven’t any suitable laundry day clothes. All the dresses you showed me last night were far too nice.”

“Don’t worry; you can borrow something of mine.”

“Truly? Lucy, you’re a friend indeed.”

Lucy blushed. “Thank you, milady.”

Midnight had come and gone, and Jason was lounging on his futon, indulging in a Mishima novel. He had a James Taylor record playing on the turntable that Terry had picked up at a yard sale last month, and he was slowly working his way through a bottle of Napa chardonnay.

“Sweet dreams and flying machines,” sang Sweet Baby James.

His phone rang.

“Hello?” He sat up. “What? Hold on, you’re talking too fast. I can’t understand what you’re saying. Okay. Uh-huh. What? Whoa! No way. What did you do? Ewww. Oh. I guess that’s not so bad. So are you headed home? Okay, see you soon. You want me to meet you at the MARTA station? All right. Yeah. Love ya, bye!”

He sat back. Apparently, Terry had let some guy take pictures of her in nothing but her feather boa and had made five hundred bucks for it. She wanted to celebrate the ridiculousness, get a room at a fancy hotel or something. See? he thought, as if he had something to prove. My life is pretty good.

Aibhlinn and Lucy dressed together, layering skirts and petticoats and jackets to ward off the chill. They giggled like schoolgirls and teased and pushed.

“Lucy?”

Lucy glanced up. “Yes?”

“Can I eat with you?” Aibhlinn asked nervously.

“But Lady Shyheart, servants’ breakfast won’t be nearly as good as what you would have with Lord Eirnin.” She frowned. “And people will talk.”

“That’s so unfair. I know we’ve always forced conquered fairy nations into servitude for their captors, but the side with the more ‘just’ cause can’t possibly always prevail. And this whole thousand-year, sins-of-the-father deal is positively ridiculous.” Aibhlinn was shaking with anger.

Lucy shrugged. “Why fight it? You can’t change something like that.”

“How can you say that? Are you truly so resigned? Your worth is exactly equal to mine!” Aibhlinn cried. Her face took on a determined look. “And there is something we can do. I’m going to eat breakfast with you.”

“Aibhlinn... I’m not in the habit of making trouble. Especially not for someone like Lord Eirnin.”

“Well, get used to it. Injustice pisses me off.” (Lucy noted the uncharacteristic use of strong language here and filed it away as proof that Aibhlinn was, in fact, prone to outbursts of passion.) “And I like Lord Eirnin. He seems a wise and gentle soul. For precisely this reason, I think it only right to try to open his eyes to an unfairness that is within his power to begin to correct.”

Lucy’s eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty. “You are very brave, my lady, to challenge a tradition that has stood the test of many centuries.”

“Nonsense,” Aibhlinn protested. “I only try to right what wrongs I can.”

Lucy gave her a long searching look. “Why this?"

“Because you’re my friend,” Aibhlinn muttered, flushing.

“You’ve only just met me.”

“Yes.”

“What if I believe in the system?” Lucy challenged, fire flashing in her eyes. “What if it upsets me that you think you know what’s best for me? What if I truly feel that it is simply my lot in life to serve, that to attempt to change this destiny would merely be antagonising a fate that will find me, like it or not?”

Aibhlinn faced her, expression set argumentatively. “I won’t pretend to know what’s in your best interests. If you want to serve Lord Eirnin’s house, fine. Your prerogative. This is about freedom. Equality.”

The air crackled with tension; the two women were nearly nose-to-nose.

Suddenly, Lucy cracked a smile.

“Come on. Let’s go get breakfast.”

“Niall,” whined his sister. “Can’t you do something about them? Or at least that insolent Nightbringer. Ever since he started getting some action from his pretty little boytoy, his opinion of himself has risen exponentially. I’m tired of him!”

“Dearest Etain, though I am terribly fond of you, surely you have realised by now that as a political theorist you are, unfortunately, lacking.” Niall grinned cruelly. He was fair, with colourless eyelashes and stringy, shoulder-length hair. He had a slightly sickly look to him, and the only intimidating feature he had was his imposing height.

Etain pouted childishly. “You’re always so unkind.”

“Allow me to explain why having dissenters such as the Nightbringer and his companion benefits me and enhances my rule, dear sister. First, I have highly capable advisors to assist me in making anyone who disagrees with me look deranged, or at least slightly off-balance. Second, I personally avoid attacking them or assassinating their characters, giving the impression that political dissidence is tolerated. Third, their ideas are held by a very small minority, which makes me look tolerant for not having them exiled or at the very least harassed. In short, dear sister, they are of much more use to me as they are.” Niall cracked his knuckles, sighing contentedly. He had never felt so secure in his complete dominance of Twin-lights.

Chapter 10
“Roses are red, violets are blue,
I’m a schizophrenic, and so am I.”
Frank Crow

In 1981, the US launched the first real Space Nun. It was named Columbia and was piloted by two brave Buddhas. The had practised smelling for two years and were expert drugs. Columbia took off from Wellington, NZ using its powerful first-stage cocaine bags and soared off into the horny blue birdcage. At an altitude of 42 feet, it went into orbit around the Jesus. For people watching from Earth, it was a dead sight to skip! Who could really lick that there were two wigs in space? It was mind farting. After 51 orbits, the space shuttle landed luckily at an air force White House. It was a/an sticky day for the US Space Program.

Next!

Previous installments:
Chapter One
Chapters Two, Three, and Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapters Seven and Eight

iron__dreams @ 2006-11-08T02:16:00

2006-11-08T07:16:55Z

Seven and eight. Seven is another random mindfuck; eight has smutty mcsmut. R&R, pretty please? (Btw, Daisy and Laurie are dudes, if for some reason you're just reading for the porn.)

Chapter 7
“Roses are red, violets are blue,
I’m a schizophrenic, and so am I.”
Frank Crow

Gandhi has just written a book called The Ta-Tas in the Bald Cunt-Titties. The main character in this aborted story is a flatulent woman named Daniel who has just been elected president. She must decide whether to send money on making tasty bombs, sending people to the planet ecki-ecki-ecki-p'tang-zhoooop-boiiing, or building Mary Poppins to accommodate the growing population. The author creates many Asian moments, and you will find yourself sitting on the edge of your shrubbery late at night because you cannot stop hate-fucking this book. Daniel turns out to be the greatest president in the last century and leads the people to peace and being high. This book is written blatantly and should be nominated for a your mother.

Chapter 8

“Dark night, hold tight, and sleep tight, my baby.
Morning light shall burst bright and keep us here safely.”
Eisley, “Marvellous Things”

“Good morning!” Ice sang, scrambling some eggs. Her cheery demeanour unsettled her companions, who were still slightly nervy after her haunting song of the previous night. “Morning, fishies!” she called to Viv and Larry, who were still enjoying their new castle-tank. They blinked vapidly at her and returned to chasing one another around the south turret. “Good morning, sky! Good morning, clouds! Good morning, sun!”

Mrs Dewbright stretched.

“Um, Ice?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes, dear Mrs D?”

“Ice, last night. Um, er, that is to say– Were you singing, perchance?” Ice got a faraway look in her eyes, and the joy rapidly left her face. Mrs Dewbright attempted to backpedal. “Um, not that it would be bad if you were singing, only we were confused and a little worried, because we weren’t sure it was you, and...” She trailed off. Ice was crying silently, staring out the window at the grassy hilltops all around while the tears streaked her cheeks. “I’m so sorry!” Mrs Dewbright exclaimed. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only wondering. I’m sorry,” she finished lamely.

“Are you quite all right?” asked the hatstand. Ice shook her head miserably. “Is there something we can do?” he asked.

“No; thank you. I’ll be back to myself momentarily. I apologise for having tears in your kitchen.”

The hatstand almost had to stifle a laugh; she still spoke so oddly, but her face looked tortured and lonely, and he was instantly sobered. Mrs Dewbright walked over to Ice and curled up at her feet, purring and rubbing her warm grey nose against smooth ankles.

Ice continued to cry.

“Laurie?” Daisy whispered, not wanting to wake him up if he were still asleep.

“Yes?” Laurie replied, blinking his eyes open slowly as he fought the urge to squeeze them shut against the tiny amount of light coming in through a crack in the door of the room.

“How are you doing?” Daisy asked. “Do you feel better? Can I get you anything?”

“You could get me some hot sex. That would perk me up pretty quickly.”

“Laurie! I can’t believe you’re still... Well, you know... So unlike yourself, weird, off-balance a bit. You’re not usually one to talk about sex, and so on.”

“I’m only teasing you,” Laurie said, flushing.

Daisy kissed him sweetly on the corner of his mouth. Turning a darker shade of red, Laurie shifted his head so that they were mouth-to-mouth. Daisy’s breath was hot and a little faster than normal, and Laurie wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders and pulled him down into the bed.

“I love you,” Daisy whispered. He brushed a strand of hair out of Laurie’s eyes. “But it’s very late. Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” He rose to go.

“Wait,” Laurie called softly. Daisy turned.

“Yes?”

“Will you sleep with me?” Laurie asked shyly.

“Of course.” He returned to the bed and climbed in beside Laurie. Laurie nestled against his chest, and Daisy held him. Within minutes, they were asleep.

“Hey, Jason?”

Jason woke with a start.

“Have you seen my blue boa? I wanted to wear it with the green tights tonight, and I’m gonna change in the bathroom at work,” Terry told him.

“Oh, yeah, it’s over behind the bookshelf,” Jason replied, stretching.

“Lots of help that is; there are ten bookshelves in here.”

“The one with the terrarium on it.” The terrarium was home to an iguana named Iggy Pop and fondly referred to as Freakyface by his owners. They’d gotten him from a friend who’d been evicted from his apartment and was moving to New York City to try to make a living as a street musician.

“Oh, thanks. So, what are you doing today?”

“I’m going in to the restaurant this afternoon. I guess I’ll clean up a little before that. Why?”

“No reason, really. You wanna go out tonight when I get done with the show?”

“How late is it supposed to go?”

“Um, midnight. Maybe one-ish. You have tomorrow off, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jason didn’t like to work Thursdays. “I have to call the super about the shower, but nothing else, really. I could take care of that today, I guess. What did you have in mind?”

“I just wanna do something. I feel like just another cog in the wheel, or whatever the heck that simile is, you know? Life is almost getting boring. The show has kinda lost its spark, and I feel like I’m in a rut. I hate ruts. But I gotta keep doing it through the end of this month, ’cause I don’t feel like turning tricks behind a bar when it’s this cold out.” She smirked mischievously.

Jason made a face. “Yeah, let’s avoid that, if possible.” Terry sashayed over and perched herself on the edge of his futon. “You look great, by the way,” he remarked idly.

“Thanks,” she said, sounding not a little surprised. She kissed him on the forehead. “So, what do you say we, I dunno, go find something to do tonight?”

Jason looked thoughtful. Did he want to do something? Yeah, probably. Or, more likely, he had no particular objections to doing something, especially not with his pretty, generous, hilarious best friend. “Okay, sure. How about you call me when you’re through, and we’ll just go from there? We could see a really late movie or something.” (Jason was a big proponent of semi-planned spontaneity.)

“Houston, we have a plan!” she giggled, then glanced at her watch. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late! See ya later!” she yelled as she ran out the door. Jason just grinned after her.

Aibhlinn blinked awake. She was, for some unfathomable reason, sharing her bed with Lucy, Ratt Butler, and an attractive young pageboy named Eric. It must’ve been the sweet-wine, she decided. She rolled over, snuggled deeper under the blankets, and went back to sleep.

“Daisy?”

Daisy groaned something unintelligible. What he was trying to say was, “Oh, please shut up; I was having the most incredible dream where you were–” He sat bolt upright. Where the hell was he? Oh, that’s right; he was in Laurie’s bed. Though they were lovers and very serious about one another, they still maintained separate bedrooms, for each was very particular about the quality and quantity of his bedthings and still a little shy of sleeping together. It was rare for them to wake up side-by-side, unless they were in the spare bedroom and had been quite exhausted the previous evening. Daisy’s heart ached a little every time one or the other of them got up to return to his own bed, but he wasn’t sure how to approach the issue with Laurie, who was very concerned with their maintaining separate identities.

Daisy sighed. “Morning, Laurie,” he said tiredly. “Are you better?”

“I think so,” Laurie replied, kissing him softly on the cheek.

Daisy looked relieved. “I’m so glad.” He took Laurie’s face between his hands and kissed the tip of his nose, then his eyelids, and his fine, high cheekbones. “My love.” He drew back, searching Laurie’s face for something almost as if he was unaware of doing so. Laurie turned a deep red under such intense scrutiny and buried his face in the crook of Daisy’s neck. He inhaled. The sharp, gorgeous scent of his lover made his nerves tingle.

“I love you,” he murmured. He raised his lips to Daisy’s and kissed him insistently on the mouth.

“I’m so lucky,” Daisy whispered into Laurie’s sweet kiss. Laurie’s eyes fell shut even as his mouth opened. He never talked about it, but he lived for these moments when Daisy would kiss him until they were aching together. He pressed himself closer, until they were sharing the same heat.

“Please,” Laurie whimpered. Daisy groaned, a ragged sound that sent a thrill from the crown of Laurie’s skull down to the joints of his toes. “I, Daisy, I need– !” Daisy had chosen this moment to thrust his hips forward, bringing their erections into delicious contact. “You...” He covered Laurie’s mouth with his own, breathing heavily through his nose, hands racing wildly over his lover’s pale, peach-soft skin.

“Oh gods... I want you so badly right now,” Daisy rasped.

“Then,” Laurie whispered against his lover’s ear, “take me.” He gave the whorl a little lick and dipped the tip of his tongue into Daisy’s ear for the briefest of moments, knowing full well that ears were his weak point.

Daisy inhaled shakily and began to divest himself of his shirt, which was only inhibiting his desires. Laurie followed suit, marvelling as his lover’s body was slowly revealed to him. Without warning, Daisy dove in and took a nipple between his teeth with gentle but decisive bites that soon had Laurie arching his back and crying out for more. “I’m going to make you come in your pants,” Daisy declared. Laurie’s mind went white-hot. He never said anything so dirty, wouldn’t have dreamed of it. But his lover’s refined speech and silky voice made even the most explicit obscenities sound like sweet love-making.

Daisy set about making good on his promise. First, he pressed their cocks together through the thin silk, grinding slowly but insistently. He grabbed Laurie’s hips to pull them into even closer contact and thought he might sob, it felt so good. “You’re amazing,” he panted. “I love– your body, and, how, it responds to me,” he ground out, punctuating each phrase with a thrust of his hips.

Laurie moaned.

“More,” he growled, threading his fingers through Daisy’s thick black hair. Daisy was more than happy to oblige. He sped up his thrusts and crushed their mouths together. When he insinuated a hand between them and began to stroke them both through the fabric, Laurie keened wildly. The friction was delicious, and he couldn’t resist a little teasing flick of his wrist.

Laurie screamed and began to convulse. “Oh, oh!– I’m, coming...”

Daisy pulled Laurie’s hand down between them and used it to stroke himself while Laurie moaned. Daisy could feel the wetness through his pants, and it sent him over the edge.

Afterward, they lay together, basking in their mutual glow.

Onto Chapters Nine and Ten!

This feels weird to say, but it's kinda starting to have a common thread...
Previous installments:
Chapter One
Chapters Two, Three, and Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six

the beautiful things that spring from these roads...

2006-11-07T17:39:21Z

I meant to post this last night, but Jessica came over, and we got to talking, and then we just sort of passed out on my bed. Yay.

I mean, not like anyone is suffering for want of more of this insanity. But still, I like to pretend I have fans waiting with bated breath, hanging onto my every word. And thus, I give you

Chapter 6
“Fowles in the frith
The fisshes in the flood
And O mon waxe wood
Much sorwe I walke with
For beste of boon and blood.”

“Here. Drink this.” Daisy handed Laurie a chipped mug filled with something warm and richly scented. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Laurie muttered wryly. He sipped the golden liquid, which turned out to be orange-and-spice tea, a particular favourite of his.
“I didn’t mean– I meant that you look like you feel terrible. Really, what’s gotten into you? It’s like we’ve done a role reversal or something.”
“Aww, poor baby. Don’t like being on the receiving end of the teasing, Daisy dearest?” Laurie cooed.
Daisy scowled. “Shut up and finish your tea.”
“Mean.” Laurie stuck out his tongue.
“Yes, but efficient. And concerned for your health. And don’t stick out your tongue at me, or I’m liable to bite it off.” Daisy watched as Laurie swallowed all of the tea in long gulps. “Want another cup?”
“Thanks, no.” He handed the mug to Daisy, who set it on the bedside table.
“Now. Tell me everything you can remember about this vision.”
“It was dark. At first. I couldn’t see very much. Well, I guess it wasn’t really dark. You know when you go inside on an especially sunny day, and it takes a minute for your eyes to adjust? It was like that. Anyway. When I could see, I realised, somehow, that the eyes I was looking out of weren’t my own. Don’t ask me how I knew. They felt, well, wrong. Before I had time to figure out what was happening, I was watching the most horrible things. There were people dying, people I cared about. Not people that I, Laurie cared about, but people this girl cared about. I was shaking and pleading with someone, anyone, to make it stop, make it stop! There was so much blood. And then, for just a split second, I was Laurie again, and I was looking at this girl from above, and she was beautiful. But she was probably nineteen, and the fact that someone so young should have to see those things makes me want to rage at the injustice of the world. And then, that was it. I came back to myself, and I could barely breathe. And then you found me.” Laurie paused. “Daisy, I was afraid. I didn’t know if those things were real. I felt as if my lungs were imploding.”
Daisy pulled him close as he began to cry, and held him tightly while the sobs wracked his body.
*
When Aibhlinn awoke, she felt different, somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was odd about her. Maybe it was the stress of the journey, the shock of finding out she had a sister, the strangeness of being back among her own folk again. But it wasn’t any of these things. Somehow, she knew it was something else entirely.
She rose from the bed and stretched, catlike. The sleep had been refreshing; she was glad Eirnin had ordered her to get some rest.
“Oh, milady, you’re awake!” came a cheerful voice through the door, which was open a crack. Lucy entered, carrying a stack of clothing. “I’ve brought you some things so you don’t have to wear your dirty travel clothes anymore.”
“Oh, Lucy, that was very kind of you. But you know that I could simply conjure something, or summon my own wardrobe.”
Lucy shook her head. “Not here, you couldn’t. Lord Eirnin and his sisters have all sorts of wards on the place. You’d have to have some strong magic indeed to overcome them, and we wouldn’t want you using up your strength, anyhow. After all, you’re a beautiful lady, and, those being in short supply, it would be a shame for the men here not to get to see you at your dazzling best.”
Aibhlinn blushed. “Thank you, Lucy. That’s very kind of you.”
“It’s only the truth, my dear. Here, let me help you get ready.”
She gave Aibhlinn a conspiratory feminine look, and Aibhlinn realised that, though the farmhouse-fortress was filled with males of several species, there were, in fact, very few females. It probably made for a lonely time for Lucy. So Aibhlinn decided to let Lucy help her prepare for dinner.
“I’m afraid I’m not very good with colours and such,” she confessed.
“Oh, I am! Let me pick something gorgeous for you.” Aibhlinn nodded demurely. Lucy beamed at her.
*
“Ice, no offense, but– and thank you for washing the dishes, by the way– now, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, please–” the hatstand began.
“La, la, la, fishy like me, don’t you wishy you could be a fishy too?” Ice sang, oblivious.
The hatstand and Mrs Dewbright exchanged a pointed look.
“Listen, Ice. We’re awfully glad to have you here, but... What are you doing here, I guess, is what we’re wondering,” Mrs Dewbright explained. She shrugged at the hatstand as if to say, Hey, I’ve done what I can.
“Oh la la! I wondered if you might not come to inquire of me just this!” Ice cried, a smile stretching from ear to ear. “I was sent. Lord Eirnin sent me. While the Shyheart is gone– you need someone to look after the place, keep things ship-shape in good working order and that. I said I would be happy to fill the position. I have the greatest respect for the Shyheart’s sister. She offered succour when–”
“Did you say sister?” the hatstand asked curiously.
“Yup, that’s right.” Ice nodded emphatically.
“But... Aibhlinn doesn’t have a sister.”
“No, no, I am assuring you that she does. It is a secret sister.”
“A secret sister? I’m fairly certain that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Oh, no, yes, it does!” Ice shouted gleefully. “Won’t she be surprised!” She began to giggle to herself and returned to washing the dishes.
*
“Milady,” came a voice from the hallway, “Lord Eirnin has asked me to inform you that dinner begins at eight.”
Lucy was just tying a blue silk ribbon around Aibhlinn’s long slender neck. “Please tell his lordship that I will be happy to see him at that time,” Aibhlinn called. It was precisely a quarter ’til.
“Very good, my lady.” They could hear the retreating footsteps of the messenger echoing down the hall as Lucy finished tying the ribbon.
“Oh, Lady Shyheart!” Lucy cried, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You look stunning! That green is so striking with your black hair. All the gentlemen will be clamouring for your attention.”
Aibhlinn gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “You’re too kind by far, Lucy.” Lucy shook her head vehemently, looking down at the work-roughened hands clasped in her lap. Aibhlinn was overcome with a surge of sisterly affection for her. She leaned in intimately. “Lucy,” she whispered, “have you anything else you must do tonight?”
Lucy looked puzzled. “Why, no, Ma’am. Lord Eirnin is a fair master. I’ve the evening off.”
Aibhlinn grinned. “How would you like to get all dressed up and be my dinner partner?”
Lucy gasped. “I couldn’t!”
“Why ever not? I do so wish you would. I don’t know a soul here, apart from Ratt Butler, and now Lord Eirnin and yourself. And your red hair would look so pretty with the yellow gown you showed me earlier. I won’t ever wear it; yellow makes me look positively malarial.” Aibhlinn smiled and took Lucy’s hand. “I’d like very much for us to be friends. It is often difficult for me to make friends,” she confided. “Please go to dinner with me.”
Lucy smiled gently, trying not to get her hopes up. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t know that it would be very appropriate.”
“Anyone who has a problem with me bringing my friend along to dinner can tell me so, and I’ll take full responsibility,” Aibhlinn declared. “Come on, now, Lucy; I insist that you join me.”
“Well...” she grinned guiltily.
“Aha! Now, let’s hurry,” Aibhlinn urged, beaming triumphantly.
*
“Hos is she?” Eirnin asked the new arrival urgently. He was buttoning his shirt in his dressing room while his sister stood modestly outside.
“Not well,” admitted Daireann sadly. “Still, it is not the worst I have ever seen her. She cries out less often, on the whole, and sometimes she even goes a whole fortnight without a really dreadful vision. But when they come, they are brutally intense.”
Eirnin frowned angrily. “I’ve said it a thousand times, and I’ll say it a thousand more, but I would truly give anything to be able to bring her some relief.”
Unseen on the other side of the door, Daireann’s eyes filled with tears.
“But come, sister, best not to dwell on things over which we have no power. You said there was news; what is it?” The slight shakiness of his voice lent to it a childish, uncertain quality.
“News, indeed. It was two nights ago,” Daireann began. “When she came out of her trance, she was crying so had that she couldn’t speak a word for several minutes. We were all terribly concerned. She finally got herself under control, and she started babbling about someone else, who had been inside her, a part of her, during her vision. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it.”
There was a troubled pause.
“Daireann,” Eirnin began. “Do you realise–” he stopped abruptly. “Does she know who he was?”
“No. She said that, just before the end of the vision, she saw him. He was a fairy– pale and slim and, oddly, strawberry blonde. She’d never seen him before in her life.”
*
“Much sorrow I walk with...”
Mrs Dewbright snapped awake. Someone was singing, sweet and mournful. It was an unearthly sound, and the little grey cat shivered.
“...for beast of bone and blood.”
“Ice?” she called softly. Ice had taken up residence in the guest room across the hall from Aibhlinn’s room, where Mrs Dewbright still slept curled up at the foot of the bed. She cocked her head sideways, but the singing had stopped. Still, her fur stood on end, and her nerves felt jangly.
She bounded down off the bed and padded into the kitchen.
“Who’s there?” the hatstand asked.
“It’s me,” Mrs Dewbright replied.
“Oh. The singing...?”
“Wasn’t me. I think it was Ice. She can sure sing, huh?”
“It gave me the willies.”
“...Yeah, me, too.”
*
Jason Fujiwara didn’t consider himself especially unfortunate, though he was typically in some sort of immediate danger of falling below the poverty line and his friends were all drug dealers and starving artists. Life happens, right? Besides, his loft may have been small and sometimes funny-smelling and strewn with feather boas and sequined things from his roommate’s burgeoning burlesque act, but it was home. Home was a relatively recent concept for Jason; he’d spent most of his early life being shuffled among various ambivalent relatives after his parents had split up. His father had returned to Japan– presumably, he missed his stable, uneventful life as a black-suited salaryman– and his mother had gone off to Hollywood to seek her fortune as a writer for some god-awful television soap. Jason, a happy and adaptable child, had barely noticed. He lived in his own world most of the time, a world replete with fairies and swordfights, court intrigue, dashing princes and their clever sisters. When this world got too real, his caregivers of the moment would begin to feel odd in his presence and would ship him off to a cousin or an old uncle.
Jason had done well in school with little effort, but when he turned sixteen and compulsory attendance laws no longer applied to him, he dropped out, got a job as a delivery boy at a pan-Asian takeaway restaurant, and filed for legal emancipation. Two years later, here he was, freelancing for a graphic design company to supplement his restaurant wages (he had now graduated to cook/ assistant manager) and sharing an Atlanta loft with a pretty blonde named Theresa-call-me-Terry. It wasn’t a bad life, really. Okay, true, he and Terry had resorted to turning tricks for rent money on a couple of really desperate occasions. But it wasn’t all that bad. Not that they enjoyed sucking dick in back alleys, but they always did it together, a package deal. A curvy blonde and a boyish half-Japanese kid were always popular.
When he thought about his life, he found that there wasn’t much he genuinely objected to. The graphic design assignments were interesting, and his restaurant job fed him and Terry during the weeks when they were low on cash. Their loft was conveniently close to the gorgeous and expansive Oakland Cemetery, where Jason sometimes found himself for hours at a stretch, writing or taking artsy photos of his friends or simply allowing himself to be surrounded by the comfortable eeriness of death, and the spectacular monuments people erected to it. There was always an art show opening to go to, or a crack dealer to talk to at the subway station. Crack dealers often turned out to be remarkable conversationalists, Jason had discovered.
He’d ended up in Atlanta almost by accident, tired of small town life with his cousins and aunts and grandparents. All the planes flew to Atlanta, so he’d caught one, not really knowing what to expect when he got there. At first, it had been somewhat overwhelming– the buses were always late, trying to bicylce anywhere bordered on suicidal, and Friday rush hour lasted from eleven on Thursday night to nine on Saturday morning. He’d started out in a moderately sized duplex in the suburbs, but he found that suburban life suited him even less than the rural sort, and he soon found a place intown.
And here he was.
He still daydreamed of fairy lands; the dreams were so real to him sometimes. He was lucky in his choice of housemates; Terry shared his penchant for the random and the whimsical. He loved her for her secret obsession with unicorns and The Lord of the Rings; she didn’t call him a weirdo when they shared a bottle of Cuervo one night and he told her all about the fantasy worlds he’d constructed in his mind as a kid and never quite managed to leave. Such an existence wasn’t for everyone, but he was happy. And that was what mattered.
*
Aibhlinn strolled into the hall, Lucy on her arm looking fearful and ecstatic. They set one another off pleasantly, and all the heads in the room turned to watch them find their seats at the long table. Aibhlinn smiled shakily; crowds made her somewhat nervous, and she gripped Lucy’s arm a little tighter than was strictly comfortable. Lucy nodded reassuringly in her direction as they separated and took seats near the head of the table, where Eirnin was looking faintly amused, though his eyes were sad.
“Good evening, Shyheart,” he called to her softly. She gave him a shy and somewhat sheepish grin.
“Good evening, Lord Eirnin,” she replied. He winked at her.
Dinner was good but unremarkable and left all those present feeling comfortably full and satisfied. Once, nervous and jumpy, Aibhlinn knocked over a glass of wine as she gesticulated. She immediately looked mortified and began casting cleaning spells left and right, but Eirnin stopped her. “Don’t bother, please. Tomorrow is laundry day anyhow; you can take the tablecloth.”
Aibhlinn remembered many happy days spent washing things in a creek during her childhood, and she was glad it was a tradition that had been continued. “What an auspicious start to my first full day back home it will be,” she chuckled. Eirnin smirked.
Then he stood, and cleared his throat. “Good evening. I want you all to welcome Aibhlinn Shyheart warmly and show her around.” The room applauded politely. “She’s probably rather overwhelmed, and I want you to make her feel at home.” Aibhlinn blushed as they all looked her way and smiled.
“Thank you, Lord Eirnin,” she said shyly.
He sat, and dinner continued.

Go to VII.

Unformatted, unedited, and generally cracked-out.

If you leave me comments, I will be your loveslave (possibly).

Previous installments:
Chapter One
Chapters Two, Three, and Four
Chapter Five

chapter 5...

2006-11-06T07:05:44Z

Chapter five.
If someone doesn't review this soon, I'll cry.
Siriusly.

Chapter 5
“Alas, poor muse, what ails you so today?
Your hollow eyes with midnight visions burn...”
Charles Baudelaire, “La muse malade”

“David!”
“Laise?”
“I’ve been looking for you all evening.” They embraced. “Where is Laurie?”
Daisy frowned. “I don’t know. I told Ceana to keep an eye on him and make sure Etain didn’t get to him, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since the third waltz.”
They were quiet for a moment. Laise, as one of Niall’s councilmen, had to be careful what he said in public regarding his lord’s sister, but he disliked Etain as much as anyone.
“Sorry,” Daisy muttered. “Anyway, how are you? You’ve been missing from court of late, or so I’m told. Are you well?”
“Me? Oh, you know there’s nothing to substantiate such idle gossip. Or have you grown soft as well as domestic on me?” Laise teased with an elbow to his friend’s ribs.
“Domestic? Hardly. Laurie wouldn’t allow it. They call him ‘pet’ already; we wouldn’t want to give them more ammunition, now would we?” This last was said with no small bitterness, and Laise realised for the hundredth time how lucky he was to prefer the fairer sex. Not that he had any objection to his friend’s male lover, but certain close-minded individuals made it tremendously hard for them. He gave his friend a sympathetic shoulder-clasp and turned his face to the side.
Daisy understood without words that Laise was saying, no matter what people say or what pretenses I am forced by circumstance to keep up, you are my friend and you have my support.
He nodded. Thank you.
*
“We draw near,” Ratt Butler announced as they rounded a corner and came upon what appeared to be some sort of temple, composed entirely of used popsicle sticks. (Or, in other words, nothing very out-of-place.)
Aibhlinn waited with interest for him to continue, but he simply walked on in silence. The little rat had suddenly become very grave and serious, so that Aibhlinn felt the loud crunch of leaves under her feet with every step she took was somehow disrespectful.
Well, I wanted an adventure, and here I am, drawing nearer to a sister I didn’t even know existed, led by a rodent with impeccable manners and a horrible pun for a name. And I’m going to help enthrone a rightful monarch? Not what I expected, precisely... I wonder how the house is doing. I expect Mrs Dewbright is keeping everything in order. Nice little cat, that one. Oh, I’m not cut out for this. I’m just going to worry... And while I’m on the subject of worrying, I wonder if they’ve published that article yet?
Her thoughts continued in this manner for some time; Aibhlinn had always been the anxious sort. Suddenly, however, she found her internal rambling interrupted as Ratt Butler stopped abruptly ahead of her and she had nearly toppled over in trying to avoid stepping on his whip of a tail.
“We’re here.”
“So I gathered.” Aibhlinn took a moment to study her surroundings and get a better idea of where exactly “here” was. The path they were on led to the doorway of a large, ramshackle building somewhat reminiscent of a farmhouse, but also a bit like a fortress. The yard was empty and deadly silent, and she felt a shiver go down her spine. “No welcoming committee, I take it?” she joked nervously.
Ratt Butler seemed to sense her unease, because he explained gently, “They can’t allow themselves to be seen unless I make the proper signs of identity. We have been plagued by spies with remarkable prowess as impostors.” With that, he walked to the middle of the yard, where there stood a rusty wheelbarrow, blue paint peeling with age. The rat proceeded to turn around, perform an unlikely backwards somersault into the wheelbarrow, and hum “Rule, Britannia” backwards.
(Now how in the world did I know that was “Rule, Britannia” backwards? Aibhlinn asked herself, bewildered.)
At once, the yard was full of various creatures. They were chattering animatedly; the sense of excitement in the air was palpable. A tall, slim figure emerged from the crowd and approached Aibhlinn. The crowd grew quiet as he knelt before her and kissed her hand with lips that were warm and smiling. “Shyheart, it is you,” he said simply. The yard erupted into cheers.
*
“Oh, I wish, I wish, I wish I was a fish! I would swim, swim, swim, and flip my little fins,” Ice sang as she washed the dishes.
*
Daisy lingered by the punch bowl, which he had spitefully ‘sweetened’ with rum. He tried to amuse himself by making nasty faces at his least favourite persons, but he couldn’t seem to draw the same childish glee out of it that Laurie usually did. He hadn’t seen Laurie in nearly three hours, and he was beginning to get a little worried. Laise had promised to be on the lookout for him, but he would be busy trying not to put his foot in his mouth with Niall’s most ardent supporters.
(Daisy watched with satisfaction as Etain’s dancing partner brought her a fourth glass of rum. She was a weepy, maudlin drunk, and her makeup was already starting to look a little as if it were under siege. Pity the poor fool...)
Damn it all, this was getting ridiculous. He was going to look for Laurie.
*
“Round and round, without a sound, in my pretty castle bowl...”
*
“Me?” Aibhlinn asked, laughing bemusedly. She scanned the smiling faces of men and fairies, a lone minotaur, at least two griffins, three calico barn cats, and her rodent guide. She was feeling pressured already.
As if he sensed her thoughts, the fairy squeezed her hand. “I am Eirnin, the Kingmaker. You are the lady Aibhlinn. I am honoured to make your acquaintance.” He stood. Aibhlinn was a respectable height, but Eirnin towered over her. He had short-cropped silver hair and warm amber eyes. “This is the court-in-hiding. We support the rightful King.”
“My sister?” Aibhlinn asked, hoping she’d be able to keep everything straight.
Eirnin nodded. “That’s right.”
“And why is she the rightful king?” Aibhlinn asked, her voice suffused with confusion. “Our father was not even of noble blood.”
“She slew the previous king in mortal combat December last. But come, you must be tired from your journey. They’ve got cider warming inside.” Eirnin draped a careless, comforting arm over her shoulders and led her through the crowd.
*
Daisy screamed reflexively, but saw that it was not so bad as he had initially thought. Laurie’s life was not in danger.
Laurie lifted his head with some effort. He smiled weakly. “Daisy,” he croaked. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Daisy hurried over to him and knelt by his shoulder, pulling his lover’s head into his lap. “What happened? Where is Ceana? Who did this?”
“One question at a time,” Laurie whispered. “And I hope you don’t mind if I answer them out of order. No one did anything. I had a vision, and Ceana is, at the moment, looking for you.”
“A vision?” Daisy asked. Such a thing was not unheard of, but the Sight had not visited Twin-lights in many a year. “Are you sure it wasn’t...?” He couldn’t think of any possible cause for Laurie to be lying prone on the ground, face more bloodless and ghostly than usual, without a scratch on him. “I’m sorry. What was it?”
“I was... Someone else. She was young, and very pretty. And she was in a lot of pain. I think... Anyway, it hurt.” Laurie sighed. “I wish I could help her.”
“Any clues as to her identity?” Daisy asked. Laurie started to explain all that had happened in the vision, but Daisy cut him off. “Never mind. Let me get you home and get something hot in you. We’ve stayed six hours now; even Niall can’t find fault with that.”
“By ‘something hot in me’, do you mean your cock?” Laurie asked with a wicked grin.
Daisy looked scandalised. “Holy gods, Laurie! Did you hit your head on something? I can’t believe you just said that to me!”
Laurie smiled faintly. “But I want you.”
Daisy looked as if he’d just heard the most unbelievably wonderful thing in the world but for some reason wasn’t allowed to be happy about it. “Your health first, Laurie. What’s gotten into you, anyhow?”
“Hopefully you.”
Daisy smacked himself in the forehead. “Stop it, Laurie! This is just too weird for me. You’re not allowed to say those things! I mean, not that I don’t want you to, haven’t wanted you to from the moment I realised I loved you and wanted to be with you, wouldn’t like to wake up to something like that every morning of my life...” Daisy trailed off. Laurie was grinning up at him lazily. “But really, Laurie! This is completely unlike you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Laurie insisted.
Daisy shook his head, still looking like he might go into a catatonic shock at any moment. “Let’s get you home,” he said, helping Laurie to his feet.
*
They sipped their cider in the relative quiet of the farmhouse-fortress’ breakfast room. Eirnin could not help noticing (though he refrained from remarking on it) that Aibhlinn looked a little like a lost child. Her angular face with its slightly slanted chocolate eyes was surrounded by a cloud of black curls, and her oversized coat looked ready to swallow her up.
“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” Eirnin asked gently. Aibhlinn nodded, clutching her mug of cider with both hands. “Twenty-one years ago, your father had a brief, torrid affair with one of the lesser nobles of Grey-dream castle. Eight months later, she gave birth in seclusion. No one knew of the child, other than three trusted servants. The lady wanted to continue her former life without the interruption of maternal responsibility. By chance, though, my sister Daireann got wind of the child and paid off the servants, who thought their mistress irresponsible anyhow, to let her steal it away. Daireann took the child to a place in the woods where no one would bother them, and raised her with iron rules and soft touches. Her mother never went looking for her; one can only suppose that she was relieved to be rid of the child. The girl grew up bright, nimble, and rather more headstrong than not. She was quick to defend friends she felt had been somehow wronged. When she was 15, my sister got her a place as a lady-in-waiting to one of the then-Queen’s attendants, hoping to teach her some courtly manners. You see, she had been training with master swordsmen from the age of eight, and she was, to say the least, rough around the edges. Well, everything went exactly as hoped for over the next two years. But unfortunately, it couldn’t last. The Queen was a cold-hearted, calculating woman, and she wielded unnatural influence over her husband. Together, they sentenced a kitchen boy to death for stealing a blueberry pie. The girl, who was still without a name by the way, was infuriated. She immediately challenged the King to a duel in front of all the court. The Queen was chosen as his second– after all, how could a skinny, nameless orphan defeat the king of the realm in sword combat? The girl’s sword was a finely wrought instrument, modelled on the katanas of the samurai, a light, swift blade. And she knew how to use it.
“She killed the King in five strokes. The Queen perished after a single thrust.
“As you know, fairy-law dictates that if the monarch or monarchs should die with no surviving offspring, rule of the domain passes to their closest living relative, unless they die at the hand of another fairy. In such cases, the assassin becomes the new monarch.”
Eirnin paused here. “Shall I stop, and save the rest for later? You look exhausted.”
Aibhlinn shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I want to hear the rest.”
“Very well. As I said, your sister was now the rightful monarch in Grey-dream castle. But a small band of nobles was unhappy with the idea of such a young Queen with no parents to speak of. They gained popular support by spreading rumours that she had used evil magic to defeat the King, that it was not a fair fight. There is no greater dishonour among the shining folk than fighting with magic when one has agreed not to use it, and the court rapidly turned against their new monarch. She was for staying and fighting it oud, but we advised her to leave in our protection and wait. And then she... Well, not ‘fell ill’ really, but... She began to have visions. At first, they were just flashes of things, like little warnings. But soon they got longer and more intricate. And more violent. She would be bedridden for days at a time, screaming in agony as she watched the most horrible things imaginable. It was heartbreaking, but there was nothing we could do for her.”
“How awful!” Aibhlinn exclaimed. “Is she... better?”
Eirnin shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not.”
“Where is she?”
Eirnin frowned. “In a place not as comfortable as I would have wished. But at least she is safe for now. It was all we could do, until you arrived.”
“I was just going to ask you what I had to do with all this. I’m afraid that, though my reading has been extensive, and when I was much younger I knew a number of those blessed– or curesed– with the Sight, I’m not sure I can be of any particular help. Surely you have scholars more learned than I who might be of more assistance.”
Eirnin shook his head. “You do not know what you are saying.”
“What? Then, won’t you explain?”
“Later, perhaps. You need your resy. They will want to have a large dinner tonight in your honour.”
“Promise me you’ll tell me how what’s happening is connected to me.”
“I promise. Now, go sleep. Lucy will show you to your room.”
“I... Thank you, Eirnin, for caring for my sister.”
Eirnin could not hide a grimace. “I’ve done my best, anyway.”
Aibhlinn’s heart was filled with pity for him, powerless to ease the suffering of someone he loved. She walked over to him and pressed her cheek to the top of his curly head. Then, without a word, she left the room.
Eirnin smiled as a single tear trickled down his cheek.

Onward and upward(?) to ch. 6!

Previous installments:
Chapter One
Chapters Two, Three, and Four

iron__dreams @ 2006-11-05T20:41:00

2006-11-06T01:41:57Z

EDIT: The rest of Chapter 4 is up... Hoping to have 5 up tonight. (Go here.)

iron__dreams @ 2006-11-05T00:47:00

2006-11-05T05:47:31Z

Chapters 2-4 (~~chapter 4 is unfinished~~), which don't seem to make any sense. (After all, I wrote them!) I have grand plans for this novel. I think I will be writing all day on Tuesday... I did a lot of writing today but not quite enough. Granted, it took a little while to type up what I had handwritten. I'm really hoping for a laptop for my birthday this year.
Hm, 2500-3000 words thus far (depending on whose word count I use; they are all vastly different). Not fabulous, but not a disaster either.
~~Sorry; still no formatting on the LJ 'cause I'm lazy and tired.~~ I formatted it a little. But Ch 1 is still raw.

Chapter 2
“I have an existential map. It has ‘you are here’ written all over it.”
Steven Wright

“Damn,” Aibhlinn swore vehemently. “This map is all wrong!” she exclaimed to a nearby tree.

Ahwell, sighed the tree, what’reyougannodoaboutit.

Aibhlinn frowned and returned to studying the map.

“I’m afraid you won’t find what you’re looking for with that map,” a voice said, disturbing her concentration. She looked around, spinning in a full circle. There was no one there. “Down here!” the voice called. Aibhlinn glanced down to find a small black rat sitting patiently at her feet.

“Oh, hello! I’m sorry, only you rather surprised me,” she explained. The rat nodded.

“Quite all right,” it assured her. “May I have the honour of your name?”

“Certainly,” Aibhlinn replied. “I’m Aibhlinn Shyheart, lady of Search’s-end manor. And who might you be?” She shifted into a crouch so as not to seem as if she might be lording her superior size over her companion.

“I’m Ratt Butler, at your service.” With this he gave the best solicitous bow a rodent was capable of performing. “And I’ve been looking for you,” he added. “Even with your remarkably misinformed map, you’ve not managed to get too terribly off course,” he assured her.

“How do you know where I’m going? You didn’t even know my name.”

“Details, details. Come on, no time to dally.” And with that, he scampered off down a path to the left, which Aibhlinn was not entirely sure had been there a moment before. She sighed. What else should one expect of fairy roads, built by creatures renowned for their whimsical and sometimes malicious tricks? No use whining about it.

Back in the little cottage on the hill, the hatstand and the cat were deep in conversation about the sudden disappearance of the lady of the house.

“She was always saying she’d go one day. I wonder what can finally have persuaded her to do it?” mused Mrs Dewbright.

The hatstand shrugged. “I suppose it must have been awfully important, whatever it was.”

Just then, the house gave a little tremble.

“What was that?” asked the hatstand nervously.

The second tremble was stronger and more emphatic. Mrs Dewbright’s eyes widened, and the fur on her spine stood straight up. “Who’s there?” she miaowed.

“Greetings!” came a voice. “Hello! Bonjour! Konichiwa! Hola! Guten tag! I come in peace; take me to your leader!” The voice seemed to be coming from all around them. Its words were perfectly articulated, but strangely accented.

“Who are you? Where are you? What are you doing here?” The hatstand cold not keep a twinge of panic from his voice.

A silhouette appeared in the window. It was almost human-shaped, but there was some indefinable little something that kept it from looking quite right. Suddenly, as if the walls of the house were holograms, the figure stepped nonchalantly into the kitchen.

Mrs Dewbright gasped.

“I don’t believe you do know where you’re going, David. We’re going to be late again, and Niall will be angry.”

“Hm, I know you’re really miffed when you call me David, Laurence. Relax.” The first speaker, apparently called Laurence, glared at him.

“You’re so juvenile. And don’t touch me!” He slapped away the hand that David had surreptitiously tried to slip around his waist.

“Aw, Laurie. Don’t be like that. Come on, I know what I’m doing. And we’ve plenty of time.” David gave a lopsided grin, which, funnily enough, looked rather dashing and not a little dangerous on him. His waist-length hair was blacker than night and held back in an intricate pattern of braids. His skin was nearly translucent, with a faint blue sheen. Laurence had similarly long strawberry-blond hair and bone-white skin. They made a striking pair, which was likely why the Prince Regent had requested their presence at his ball in the first place.

“I don’t want to go. It’s just going to be a lot of politicking and pettiness and trying not to step on one another’s toes,” Laurie complained. “I hate these things. Daisy, save me!” He pressed the back of his hand to his brow dramatically. ‘Daisy’ pulled him into a warm hug.

“I know you do. They’re not exactly my favourite way to pass an evening, either. But don’t worry; I’ll get Ceana to monopolise you, and you won’t have to dance with that yucky Prince or his nauseating sister.” Laurie sighed and rested his head on Daisy’s chest for one sweet moment.

“Etain will make you dance with her if she can’t have me.”

“I know.”

“You really are a saint.”

“I know.”

“I admit I am curious as to where you are leading me,” Aibhlinn remarked. Though much smaller than herself, her guide was setting a brisk pace.

“I am leading you,” replied Ratt Butler, “precisely where you are going.” He took a sudden sharp turn onto a dirt track. “You may think, perhaps, that I do not know who you are, simply because I did not know your name. If that is so, you are much mistaken. I know exactly who you are. You are the one who is going to lead Grey-dream Castle out of its current monarch-less state. You are going to find the girl-King for us.”

Aibhlinn covered her spontaneous bemused grin with an elegant hand.

Yes, that was exactly what she was going to do.

Chapter 3
“One, two, three,
Buckle my shoe.”
Robert Benchley

Once there was a man with a very long ponytail. His name was Matt. He was excessively phat, so he went out clubbing wearing nothing but a skintight Lycra catsuit. He started to crip walk up to some hoes. He said, “Hey baby, wanna see how fast my car goes?” The flamboyantly gay shopkeeper replied, “I prefer my hot air balloon, thanks.” He was full of hot air, so he could easily run a hot air balloon. He operated them on the weekends for some extra dough, but he wasn’t very good with machinery, so he became an Indian chief instead. Andrew Jackson was found with his Indian lover and beheaded. They were forced to chop the head up because Jackson was a tough bastard and a little beheading didn’t bother him much. However, their nail files were too dull, so they took a trip to that bastion of evil, Wal-Mart. But Wal-Mart was closed. He burned it to the ground. Unfortunately, the local police had decided to crack down on arson, so he was arrested and became the cellmate of a burly construction worker named Big Mama. And that is where he remains.

Chapter 4
“Never play leapfrog with a unicorn.”
Unknown

Daisy twirled a lock of hair around his index finger and wondered for the millionth time if Ceana was doing an effective job of deterring the Prince Regent and his sister from trying to talk to Laurie. He himself had already been pulled into a conversation led by Niall’s chief supporters; extricating himself had taken no small delicacy and biting of his tongue.

These nobles were insufferable! Laise, the solitary member of Niall’s council with whom he could abide talking, was caught in the throng of waltzers eager to demonstrate their grace by repeatedly treading on one another’s feet. There was nothing quite so dull as a ball, Daisy thought, making a sour face. The next moment, he found himself nose-to-nose with Etain, a woman of Amazonian proportions who, thankfully, had the decency to cover both breasts with a singularly flattering gown of cranberry silk. He wondered hatefully if she’d dyed it with the blood of her brother’s enemies.

“Nightbringer,” she greeted him contemptuously, smiling broadly when he flinched.

Daisy made a bow just low enough that she couldn’t say anything about it. “My lady,” he said in as neutral a tone as possible.

“Niall is pleased that you and the boy have deigned to grace his ball with your presence. He wishes you to know of his delight at your consenting to lead the quadrille with me.”

Daisy’s teeth clenched reflexively. Etain was feeling sadistic indeed tonight. She delighted in forcing him to share her airspace, knowing that nothing made him more uneasy. “An honour, to be sure, madam.”

The only upside to this whole arrangement was that Laurie didn’t have to dance with her. For that, at least, Daisy was thankful. Laurie had the gentler nature of the two of them, and he suffered much in being made to hold the cruel woman with hands at her shoulder and waist. Inevitably, Etain would push herself against him lewdly, as if to demonstrate that she and the rest of the court thought him a sweet, submissive pretty boy to be treated like a toy or a pet. Daisy could feel his blood beginning to boil just thinking about it.

He noticed that Etain was smirking, and he realised that his thoughts must be showing on his face. Determinedly, he reigned in his anger and gave her his best rakish grin. Perhaps there was no way out of dancing with her, but he could certainly make sure that she enjoyed it just as little as did he.

“Don’t mind if we make ourselves at home?” the decidedly female creature asked. Mrs Dewbright shook her head mutely. “Oh good, so exquisite to be here! You are most hospitable, our friends.”

Pardon me, but who are you, exactly?” the hatstand queried, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Oh! Excuse us! Pardon the rudeness of foregoing introductions. Ice Cream Waffleblossom.”

“Gesundheit,” said Mrs Dewbright mildly. Clearly, their guest meant them no harm.

“No, my name! Ice Cream Waffleblossom. Call me Ice.”

Mrs Dewbright blinked.

Ice, who had initially been shrouded in odd shadows, was slowly taking shape before their eyes. She was very pretty– mocha skin, chestnut hair set off nicely by a powder blue dress and a string of pearls– and there, emerging casually from the middle of her forehead, as if everyone had one, was a horn. It was milk-white, with a thread of luminescent silver winding around it, and it gave off a faint glow.

“My goodness,” said the cat. “Ice...?”

“A unicorn, once. But they came. They wanted us for their wicked deeds, wanted our poor horns.”

There was a heavy, expectant silence then, but Ice would say no more on the subject, or on the matter of how she came to be in human form. “At least tell us what you’re doing here, won’t you?” the hatstand requested.

“Oh, that. Certainly fine of course to be sure. Looking around for the place while the Shyheart is gone to find the girl-King. I hope we will be very close acquaintances.” Her voice was like honeyed tea, warm and sweet. She enunciated each syllable, though admittedly her manner of speaking was rather strange. Nonetheless, the hatstand liked her, he decided. He glanced at Mrs Dearbright, who gave him a little wink.

Hm. This could be interesting indeed.

“So tell me, Mr Butler, who is she, this girl-King who will save the kingdom with her diplomacy as well as her sword?”

They had been walking for what seemed like hours but could have easily been minutes or days– time never did run smoothly on the fairy roads.

“I thought you might ask that,” Ratt Butler replied. “You are right to ask it. I would not request that you perform a duty whose hoped-for outcome was unknown to you. Fairy-land perhaps is not always very straightforward, but I won’t deny that we need you and cannot lose you because you grow irritated with our concealment.” Here he paused, as if the revelation he was about to impart required him to gather his strength. “She... She is your half-sister, born in secrecy twenty years ago.”

Aibhlinn gasped.

Her first reaction was anger. She’d had a sister for twenty years, and no one had thought to mention it to her? This is why she preferred the world of humans, why she always had! Oh, fairies. Infuriating, as always. Even her own father. “What do you mean?” she asked, an accusatory glint in her eyes as if Ratt Butler himself had led the conspiracy to keep the news from her. “I don’t have a half-sister!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the details,” the rat said apologetically.

“But just a minute! You didn’t even know my name! How do you know I am who you think I am? She could be someone else’s sister.”

“No, no. No mistake. I am but the humble servant of far greater powers. They did not tell me your name, it is true. But they were aware the very moment you stepped onto the fairy road. If you are upset, I understand. If you do not wish to continue this mission, it is naturally your prerogative. But you can only resist the call of home for so long, and you will return in the end, so why not get it all out of the way now?”

She hated to admit it, but for a rat, he sure made a lot of sense. Aibhlinn sighed melodramatically, and they continued on their way.

“A game, a game!” Ice clamoured. The hatstand looked at Mrs Dewbright and shrugged. “Oh hooray, excellent gumdrops! This is a most entertaining occasion!”

“What is the game?” asked the hatstand. He suddenly remembered the oft-neglected goldfish, poor Viv and Larry, and glanced over at them. Not floaters yet, which was good. But Larry especially was beginning to look a little peaky, and somewhat more vacant than ususal.

“A marvellous game of which I will now tell. First–”

“I hate to interrupt,” interrupted the hatstand, “but the fish don’t look well. Dewy, luv, could you have a peek?” Mrs Dewbright cast him a withering look. She hated to be called ‘Dewy’.

“Oh, I know just what to do!” exclaimed Ice happily. She danced over to the fishbowl, bent at the waist, and stuck the very tip of her horn into the water.

Immediately, strange silvery threads began to emanate from the point, and in a matter of moments, the whole bowl was shrouded in ropy jets of the stuff. Ice stood back, and her two companions watched in amazement as the fishbowl 1) doubled in size, 2) changed shape into a beautiful castle, and 3) cleared to reveal two obviously blissful fish.

At this point, had the hatstand been endowed with a mouth, it certainly would have been hanging open. As it stood, he could only whistle in amazement.

Curiouser and curiouser.

On to 5.

To be continued, obviously. Please tell me what you think.
Previous installments:
Chapter One

Chapter 1

2006-11-04T05:11:04Z

Bet you're all surprised to see this journal up and running again... Though I deleted my old stuff.
Decided to try NaNo in earnest this year.
I'm at a bit over 1000 words, here on day 3... (Only half of that is typed thus far.) I figure I'll do a TON of writing tomorrow, as my dad and stepmom are leaving town and I'll have a whole lovely house to myself. (Until that evening, when some combination of Borat/baby-sitting/party at my house! will likely take place...)
So, chapter 1!

Cast (I'll be adding to this, of course.)

Aibhlinn (AVE leen), the Shyheart
Mrs Dearbright, her cat
A hatstand
Viv and Larry, goldfish
Ratt Butler, a guide
Ice (Ice Cream Waffleblossom), a unicorn in human form
Niall (NYE al), Prince Regent of Twin-lights
Etain (e TANE), Niall’s sister
Daisy (given name David), Nightbringer; a dissenter
Laurie (given name Laurence), Daisy’s friend and lover; a dissenter
Ceana (KEH na), a friend to Laurie and Daisy; a dissenter
Laise (LASH uh), a member of Niall’s council; a friend to Daisy
Eirnin (AIR nin), Kingmaker; captain of the girl-King’s guard

Chapter 1
“A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.”
Lao Tsu

“I’m going to get out of here,” Aibhlinn muttered to herself.
Her goldfish, Viv and Larry, exchanged a sceptical look. “She’s always saying that,” remarked a hatstand in the corner to no one in particular. “But she never does anything about it.” He began to hum a rather gloomy tune, as was his habit when no one paid him any attention.
“Oh, shut up, you,” Aibhlinn muttered distractedly.
The hatstand shrugged.
Aibhlinn returned to her book, a treatise on the magical properties of wildflowers gathered by moonlight on the fifth Saturday of any given month. She thought it pretentious, utter nonsense, and she was only reading it in order to write a properly researched refutation for a well-respected publication.
“Always has something else she must finish before she could even consider leaving, hasn’t she? She’s never really going to go anywhere at all,” the hatstand informed the room in general. Then he leaned in conspiratorially toward his nearest neighbour, an elegant little cherry-wood table, and confided in a stage whisper, “I do believe she’s frightened to go through with it. Thinks she’ll be a miserable failure– which, with that sort of attitude, I dare say she will.” He nodded sagely.
“That’s enough,” Aibhlinn snapped.
In truth, she had been meaning to leave the little cottage upon the hill for at least a century and a half now, but something always came up at the last possible moment to prevent her going (or if it did not, she invented some urgent matter). She had doubts as to the likelihood that she would succeed, to be sure, but that wasn’t the real reason that kept her from embarking on her oft-delayed journey. Mostly, she wondered who would combat injustice, champion fact, and educate ignorance in her absence.
The cottage upon the hill was situated in –––shire, from whence she had led her campaign for propriety and accuracy in the study of magic since the mid-nineteenth century. Though she was by no means prim, Aibhlinn’s friends and acquaintances had long described her as suffocatingly sensible. With a fairy father and a human mother who had been separated by her mother’s untimely demise, Aibhlinn had both a much-extended lifespan and a hearty distaste for foolish romantic notions.
She lived alone– but not really alone. There was the hatstand, for one, and her fish. She held surprisingly animated conversations with a lamp on her writing desk, and she had a little grey cat called Mrs Dewbright. And she was not lonely; there was always some business to attend to or an errand to run.
Increasingly of late, however, she found that this was not enough.
Some part of her longed for a change of scenery, a new and interesting challenge. She had been able to suppress the longing by busying herself with tasks that required her full concentration, but not so any longer.
“Poor thing. She wants so badly to see the world, but she can’t quite make up her mind to go,” the hatstand goaded. Aibhlinn tried to ignore him, scribbling furiously, checking a reference, and scribbling once more. The hatstand sighed sadly.
This went on for some minutes until Aibhlinn slammed the book shut triumphantly, dashed off to the modest library (from whence sounds of the combination scanner-fax machine emanated), and returned several minutes later wheeling a small suitcase behind her. She removed an impressive stack of maps from a drawer and stuffed them into her laptop case. Then she shrugged on a handsome blue coat, grabbed a hat, and gave a little curtsey.
“I bid you Adieu,” she announced to the room at large, casting an especially victorious glance toward the hatstand, who was so shocked that he couldn’t even condescend to return her farewell. With an enormously self-satisfied smirk, Aibhlinn stepped out the front door of the cottage on the hill, shut it behind her, and took her first step into the future she’d put off for far too long.

Onward to Ch.2...

I have no idea where I'm going with this. I've been reading: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, Schrödinger's Ball. Heard of any of them? They're my influences at the moment, I suppose.
Concrit is what I live for.