crushingdestiny

A new morning

Sat, 19 Dec 2009 07:35:40 GMT

The sun slowly crept over the horizen. Ruktis stared out and a smile mirrored the sun as it crept slowly over his face. The property was a handful. He was the only one who kept it up. The grass, the trees, the maintenance...all of it. A square mile of land and he made sure the cattle was fed, the calves were birthed and the fence post driven. It was exhausting. He loved it. The fact was he could get other cabal members to help and he did once in a while to help them learn something. For the most part though, it was him. He loved his blisters. He loved his sweat. He loved his stink. The soreness of his muscles screaming at him made him smile too. The only pain that shaded his vision was the fact that his personal vow to avoid magic was violated recently. He knew that his action helped to ensure both his team and the targets were hurt the least amount possible. Still... The sun fully crested the horizon and hit him in the face. Eyes watered while he stared down the dawn. Irony was not lost on him. Dawning realization hit Ruktis. He had been artificially resticting himself for no good damn reason. His reasons seemed sound when he recovered from the fall off the Suntrust tower. He wanted to try to emulate Abbadon and his sense of Serenity. Ruktis wasn't Abbadon. Abbadon sought something that was unbalanced to help others find balance. Ruktis felt the call of the Supernal. It called to his soul and sometimes he couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet. He felt lifted up. It didn't mean that he would toss what he had learned away, it just meant that His path was different from anyone else's. Ruktis' smile didn't falter.

As if life wasn't complicated enough

Sun, 16 Nov 2008 05:44:30 GMT

As Ruktis walked down to his truck after his shift, he notice his phone. There was a text message from Boomer.

"Great...time to be Holly Home Maker." he growled to himself as he threw the engine into reverse.

Long road home...

Sun, 16 Nov 2008 05:16:22 GMT

Ruktis kept a measured pace to his stride down the street. His thoughts were still a jumble as his battered psyche struggled to integrate the last half of a year into his existence. Anger, frustration and resentment swirled in a miasma within his mind. As each step down the concrete became a cadence, rage slowly lit its way through his blood.

“He couldn’t just leave well enough alone could he?” Ruktis thought to himself.

So much time and so much of him had gone into crafting the solution for the problem. He had crafted a soul for the purpose of foiling the attentions of his enemies. They looked, ever mindlessly vigilant, for Ruktis. The plan had been perfect. Ruktis simply ceased to exist. In his place was Jacob Talic. Years earlier the actual person had died and no records of the death existed. Jacob had been his student…had gone by the shadow name of Jet. The crafting of his personality to over write Ruktis’ had been both a difficult and terribly costly test. All he had had to do was fade away.

Fate, it appeared didn’t let loose quite so easily.

First, He ran into Boomer who got caught in the blast radius of His rewrite of self due, likely, to past association. Then He ended up right back in this hell hole called Orlando where His actions set off alarms to the most obnoxious of people. Damn it. Like a ten year old with a scab, the idiot just couldn’t seem to quit picking at it. He had torn the scars open before there had been an opportunity to heal them. The Great Work had unraveled at the seams.

Now instead of a team player who wanted to just be of use and help, they got stuck with the target of an ever homing missile. It only took Great Lady Fate kicking Him in the taint six or seven times for Him to get the picture. Orlando is where he is supposed to be.

The rain started as a light sprinkle but quickly strengthened into a downpour as the old scuffed work boots continued to beat out a staccato march toward the destination. He had planned ahead… before. There was a storage facility that held a few things. He had never wanted to see them again but had, even then, known that there was a chance that everything would go tits up. The Boy Scouts had it right, “Be prepared.”

Four hours passed with the same swift metronome beat of boots on pavement until He reached his destination. He recalled his pass code after a few minutes sorting out the jigsaw puzzle of his mind. He also said more then one unpleasant invective to the weather as the rain had seemed to dog his steps from Orlando to Kissimmee. He wasn’t sure what to make of the weather, but it was a certainty that it mirrored his mood. With one last spit of bloody phlegm, finally clearing His lungs, He punched in the numbers and walked through the gate as it opened.

1326 was the rolling door before Him. He reached into his duffel bag, digging near the bottom when He found the key he searched for. He had gotten a good lock and it clicked open easily. The door rolled up with protesting weal of metal and inside sat an old Dodge truck. It was hardly a looker. Rust had crept a little further up the panels in the humid Florida climate and even from outside the opened storage it lightly stank of old cigars and sweat to Ruktis’ honed sense of smell. For the first time in more then a handful of hours, He smiled. It was going to take some time to reacclimatize Himself to the memories built over the last several months, but this simple vehicle lent a bit of stability to the raging rapids that were His thoughts.

“Hand over the key, mutha fucka!”

“You got to be kidding me”, He thought to himself.

Slowly turning around Ruktis was presented with a pathetic sight. The pulse of life instantly revealed that the ‘woman’ could only barely hold that title. With a bit of reservation he placed her at maybe two decades old. The short crop hair was doubtlessly cut by her own hand and not with scissors. She was rail thin and so obviously malnourished it was frightening to the medical sensibilities of the man. This He took in within a single blink of His eyes. Before the second blink He knew the culprit. Addiction and withdrawal coursed through her like lightning down a copper wire. It was revolting and that revulsion centered on her by association. A deeper look revealed the muscular apathy endemic to habitual crystal methadone abuse. Traces of crack cocaine also lie dormant in her frontal lobe like a time bomb ready to end her. She disgusted Him. By the time a single exhalation of his breath had passed, He knew this and had dipped into her mind to see what had led to this point.

“Skipped the tricks and went straight to armed robbery, I see…”

“What? F@*k you cracka!”

“It is Kracker…with a ‘K’ you dirty piece of trash. Now turn around like a good little piece of trash and you won’t get hurt.” And with that, He turned back around to digest what He had learned in the additional handful of second rooting around in her cerebellum. It hadn’t been pleasant. It was like dumpster diving for nuggets of pig waste. Not just the fecal matter but dining on the bile if a ruptured torso. Her mind was full of pain and self-loathing and a distinct desire to die without the courage to actually do it. Better to die by pieces then all at once.

Then she did what He knew she would. The hard metal of the barrel slammed into His kidney. It actually hurt.

“Whud jou s…”

Before the third word had passed her lips, He had spun. Once revolution had snatched the cheap semi-automatic from her hand. The second revolution caught her neck in a prison grip while the barrel slammed into mouth.

“Oops, it seems I broke your meth mouth.” He said noticing her choking and drooling out horribly malnourished and destroyed teeth.

“Now, I am going to ask you one single question and I hope you think about your answer. I take things very literally.” He said calmly. “Do you want to die?”

For a moment, the girl continued to scream and weep and choke before the magnitude of the question and her position became brutally apparent. She began violently shaking her head ‘no’ as if entering into an epileptic fit.

“You sure?”

He head started bobbing up and down though the grinding of the barrel against the raw nerves of her teeth was nothing short of electric agony.

“I’ll be damned. Okay then. I got some stuff in my truck that’ll fix your teeth and then you and I are going to get some coffee and have a conversation. If you rabbit on me, make no mistake, I will shoot you in the back before you make it down this aisle. You understand?”

Another, slightly less energetic nod.

He uses the grip on her neck to throw her into the storage facility ahead of Him, not trusting her not to be stupid. He had meant what He said. He would shoot her down and in the back if she tried to run. The answer she gave was only the first test of whether she was worth saving. Landing hard against the steel back wall, she falls to the ground… whimpering incoherently. He grabs a sports mouth guard out of the glove box of the truck.

None to gently, He picks her up and crams the mouthpiece into her pie hole. She flails in panic, but the corded muscles are irresistible even with fear soaked adrenaline. Mana floods the cramped space to ease the rending of the universe’s natural order and a moment later He lets her go. Spitting and gagging, she ejects the mouthpiece along with whatever bile had collected in the back of her throat. The cheap handgun, meanwhile, had gone somewhere that no one was likely to find it. Let the spirits of this city happen upon it and do what they would. Better the spirit realm then the material at the moment.

“Now get in the damn truck. We’re getting’ some coffee at the IHoP down the road.”

At this a reappearance of panic set across her face. “No, somewhere else.”

“Sorry girlie, I like IHoP coffee.”

“My boyfriend is there… He won’t wanna see me tonight…”

“You mean your pimp and you don’t have money for ‘im. Like I said, I like IHoP coffee.” He didn’t even have to look at her to hear the muscles tense and ready to run, “Remember what I said about rabbiting…”

She got in the truck.

It wasn’t even a mile to the International House of Pancakes on Thacker and Vine Street. He only said one thing in that short time.

“Where did you get that gun?”

She didn’t answer and he had his.

He had to all but drag her in and didn’t even have to ask where his target was for the way that her eyes darted continuously over to the far back booth.

“You’ve got to be f@*king kidding me…” Ruktis quietly said looking over at the black boy sitting there. Seventeen, maybe eighteen years old dressed in ‘thug glorious’. Fubu, Ecko and thousands of dollars in gold if any had actually been real. He dragged his involuntary charge with him as he walked up and slid her into the seat and followed right behind. This caused the ‘kid’ to look up from his ‘Blackberry’ and look somewhere between surprised and angry.

“Where’s my money, bitch” were the first words out of his mouth. Ruktis couldn’t help it…He laughed. The boy looked at him full of thuggish anger as Ruktis said, “What are you, a pimp out of the ‘70s? You’re really a pathetic joke, huh?”

The boy suddenly began to jump up when Ruktis reacted with agility that an Olympic athlete would stare at with awe. The boy looked down at his hand, planted on the table to boost him upward. Ruktis had snatched up the fork on the table and had it on the hand. Not piercing the flesh but, with enough pressure that the intension had been made clear.

“Now shut up or your name for here out will be “Lefty. I am not in a good mood, my night has been bad and I am wet. I am going to say this once. You will never speak to this girl again. You will never stray into my line of sight again. You will get the hell out of this state starting in thirty seconds. Now leave before you’re forced to leave something behind on this table that you will miss until the end of your days.”

The youth stood up, a great deal more pale then when Ruktis had sit down.

“You is dead mutha fucka!” the boy said as he left. Ruktis shifted his position a fraction and it was enough to send the thug-lite running like the hounds of hell had been after him.

Ruktis waved the waitress over and got his coffee. He also fed the girl. Teresa was her name. For an hour they chatted and he slowly took away the poison from her mind and body. He also made a couple of calls on the cell that the boy had left behind. One was a call to a half way house in Orlando and the other to a good taxi service. The rest was up to her.

Shortly after the girl was gone, He drained his cup of coffee and paid his bill. He left a thirty dollar tip and got in his truck. There was no shock when he watched in his rear view mirror as a green tricked out Mazda pulled out and followed him. He drove down Thacker Avenue until it got dark and pulled down a darker side dirt road and killed the engine. He was out of the car and in the shadow realm before the headlights on the trailing car had touched his back bumper.

Four thugs got out of the Mazda. The boy was one of them. They all had handguns on them. Each carried them as if they were comfortable with them but without any actual skill. They approached the truck two to a side. Ruktis meanwhile had reappeared in the driver’s seat of the Mazda. He looked on in pleasant surprise at the manual transmission. He wouldn’t have guessed that any of them had enough brains to know how to use one. He was also happy that the engine was still running. He buried the gas pedal into the floorboard. That got the attention of the four. It took three seconds for them to turn around in confusion and another two second for the engine to blow from redline. Five seconds and Ruktis were back across the gauntlet.

“The third thing I told you was to never stray into my sight again!” Boomed the voice piecing the gauntlet into the real world. The boys ran back toward the car as black smoke flooded the meager space of the engine compartment. A meager twist of location placed Ruktis behind the lagging member, back in the real world. One single punch to the back of the skull dropped the boy. Alive, but out for the time being. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest as the remaining three turned at the sound of his fall. Three pistols seemed to rise at once pointed at Him.

“Stop” was all Ruktis said and each of the boys went rigid. Synapses fired brutal pathways and two of the remaining three, the two remaining He hadn’t seen turned their guns on each other. Both fell to the ground with bullet wounds to the knee. The pimp, He walked up to. The boy struggled to resist bringing the 9mm under his chin. Ruktis’ will would not be shaken.

“Only pussies need to be told things twice. Are you a pussy?” Ruktis said as he released the boy enough to speak.

“I don’t wanna die, Man…”

“I guess that would be a yes. Not so thugs now are you, hard tack? You didn’t get it the first time. Maybe you get it now. I am a nightmare. I will find you if I want. I will kill you if I want. I am the worst thing you will ever know and I am far more then you can guess. I am an angel and demon rolled into one. Do you understand now?”

“Yeah nig, I gotz ya…”

“No you don’t, but you will soon…” It was the last thing the boy heard before the first hammer like blow fell into his ribs.

Driving back into Orlando, Ruktis was glad he had stopped before doing permanent damage, but the boy was going to be long in healing. Some lessons had to hurt to sink in. He pulled into the parking garage of the Florida Hospital on Lake Underwood and fished his janitor’s uniform out. He knows no one would pay attention to his face and it didn’t take long before he was on the tarred roof. It took only a couple of minutes to change the engravings End had made some months ago. If he was stuck in Orlando…the least he could do was help. The next Great Work began.

Dream ah little dream... with me....

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 09:30:41 GMT

The night had been relatively enjoyable. Sunday was End’s day to enjoy his beers without thought or remorse. The massively jumped up metabolism that was an integral part of him was indulged with copious delicious calories. It was a good day of relaxation. That suited End just fine. For the last couple of weeks, Boomer had been trying to run him ragged with studies of ‘how to be an Arrow’ or ‘how to be a mage’ or his favorite, ‘how to be a normal fucking human being!!!!’ He occasionally wondered if it annoyed her that the only one running ragged was her. Of course, fair is fair, she wasn’t only training End, but rearing a baby…alone. End wasn’t so sure where he stood on that last part yet. Today was simply to relax…or so he had thought. Almost true. Almost.

The day had started pretty simple. A few drinks and a nice dinner. End had done some yard work and repairs to the house. He could have just shored up the magic inherent in the place, but why? A hammer works just as well. It had given him no small measure of pleasure and pride to see the handy work of his efforts. No, he certainly wouldn’t be mistaken for a carpenter, but it was pretty decent by anyone’s standards. No real skill, just a good inclination of where to nail some boards and fill some holes. Then he heard a call from inside the house. Boomer had another ‘project’ for him.

This particular project wasn’t nearly as bad or annoying as he had expected. ‘Movie Night’ she called it. The two of them were going to sit on the coach (when had they gotten a new couch?) and watch a couple movies and relax after a busy couple of weeks. Nice enough. End thought it peculiar that she got to pick both of the movies, but she was his teacher after all, for the time being. ‘Mirror Mask’ and ‘The Fountain’ was on the agenda for viewing. End popped up a huge bowl of popcorn and brought a case of beer to sit next to him on the floor adjacent to the couch. He also made a point to ignore the pheromones coming of Boomer. A couple of beers later and he didn’t notice anything except the movie in front of him. He did file away a small note in his head to ask her when they had gotten a new television also. For that matter, when the hell had it been mounted to the wall and how had he not noticed it until now. Of course he seldom, if ever, went in the living room.

The first up was ‘Mirror Mask’. It was an odd tale of misplaced persons in a magical mindscape of reality. Entertaining enough in the way that it mirrored the tembros in some ways. Entertaining, yet ultimately forgettable. Boomer mentioned that she had a few books by the person who had written it and promptly assigned the reading of ‘Anansi Boys’ and ‘American Gods’ to End to read the following couple of weeks. End resisted the smile that six of Milwaukee’s Best brought to his lips as he pointedly didn’t mention that he would have then read by midday of Monday. A brief intermission followed while Boomer checked on the little crap producing baby and…..changed into something more comfortable. Granted, there was no air-conditioning in the house, but boy shorts and an emerald green tank-top would still be considered a bit chilly in the temperature that invaded from outdoors. As if to read his thoughts, Boomer looked at him…

“I‘ve walked the path to the Stone Book. NAKED is comfortable but in light of your sensitivities I won’t get naked, so stop gawking and start the next fucking movie.”

Dutifully doing as he was instructed, End looked for the VCR and got dutifully confused. The laugh behind him was the only warning as Boomer squatted down next to him and shook her head.

“It’s a DVD player. Kind of like a CD player, but it has movies instead of music. You do know what a CD player is?” she explained.

After a few minutes of instruction, End understood and felt sort of proud of himself as he became somewhat more accustomed to technology the average five year old knew well. Maybe it was just the seventh, eighth, and ninth tallboy. After a quick potty break to relieve the building pressure in his bladder, the next movie began. This was a movie somewhat similar to the last in much the same way that green is somewhat similar to blue. Some of the same elements where present in classical existentialism (End did have an Ivy League education after all) but completely divergent in the subtle way it was presented.

‘The Fountain’ had a path that contained three different destinations with no definite connection betwixt the three. As the first dozen and well into the fourth half dozen adult beverages disappeared down the suddenly parched throat of End, the story seemed to take on biblical momentum. He found himself breathing faster. From a single breath every ten or fifteen minutes to two or three a minute. It wasn’t from necessity, but rather from his own version of hyperventilation. He didn’t notice Boomer slowly, and quite possibly unconsciously getting closer to End as the movie progressed. The cornucopia of emotional and visual imagery washed over the man on the couch with ever increasing strength.

The movie ended as End noticed Boomer, to his perception, had moved from five feet away to barely a few inches in a breath of time. The humorous thought of time being an imagined fiction of the mind flittered across his mind as the final of two dozen empty thirty two ounce bottles of beer slipped from his grasp.

“Now, what have you learned?” she asked in barely above a whisper and not quite a husky one at that.

“That no one resists a supernova…” End responded as he stood up with iron resolve not to sway on his feet. He very nearly succeeded until he ran into the wall on the way to his room and his bed.

Dreams are things that erupt from the sub-conscious oft times without the consent of the dreamer. The first movie had made that perfectly clear. Reality is what you interpret it as became the idea of the second. The impact on the drunken mind of the man from these two movies became apparent as he lost control of his in his drunken stupor. A Willworkers’ control of the mind, body and soul has thoughts and dreams unassailable to all…except himself.

Sleep came swiftly to End. Dreams, in the ephemeral vastness of meaningless time came just as swift. First came the disjointed imagery of what he knew he was supposing to dream. Preprogrammed litanies that he had intended to learn and memorize. Classical doctrine of the Arrow that would help him to grasp the esoteric theories of tactics and strategy. The dissolving of the lesson occurred with swiftness that defied both reason and explanation to the otherwise order measure of End’s usual nightly ritual. The strength behind the casting of his spells left little doubt that his dreaming state was as unassailable as his waking, yet he seemed to have virtually no defense against this onslaught intuition into his subconscious thoughts. The images came unknown and unbidden into his mind with terrifying clarity…

“Dirty!” exploded the word out of his mouth as the first perfect replica of the man came sliding in from ground level along the asphalt to kick the Seer in the gut, both knocking the wind out of him and lifting him a foot off the ground.

“F’ing” came the next raw voice call of another perfect replica of the man as it ducked under the chin yet above the first replica and uppercut with inhuman strength sending the nearly unconscious Seer reeling even farther into the air.

“Apostate!” came the wild call of the third replica as it launched itself in a running leap off of the shoulder of the second to uppercut the Seer a full fifteen feet into the air. At this point, the poor receiver of this punishment was as high off the ground as the roves of so many of the surrounding houses on this access street next to a major highway. Still the near perfect timing of the strikes wasn’t Vulgar so much as the perfect timing of a hive mind like intelligence bent on the decimation of one single individual.

The fourth replica of the man came diving out of the tree in the front yard of the nearest house as a shot rang out from a high powered rifle from within the structure. The calf on the leg smashed against the throat of the doomed Seer as the simple wood echoed down the block.

“COMBO!”

As the man fell earthward, strong hands grabbed his legs and swung him in a tight vicious circle as the Original used the now unconscious and nearly dead body as a bludgeoning weapon against the poor Seer’s comrades.

The Out of Towner called the man names. Names were things that washed off a true man’s back. Tonight, the man wasn’t a true man. Tonight, something didn’t feel right in his head. The Out of Towner called him stupid. The little Asian guy was the only thing that stopped a war from breaking out.

He saw his wife glaring at him. So he ripped out her eye and broke a wall with her body. Maybe she could hate him and she would live.

The black and red cackling energy warped the very space around the bitch. He could see what her intent was, and a glance with Omni vision made it very clear what …who her targets were. They were good fighters, but they had taken their licks today and this would kill them. All eight of them. He hadn’t been touched. He had moved like a beast possessed by the devil himself and hadn’t even been hit once, yet leaving a path of destruction and living, yet motionless bodies behind him. He could take it. It would save all of them. It would hurt like hell though. Like being burned alive. Again. Not one of them would bother to thank a Dirty F’ing Apostate, but they WOULD LIVE. He dove as the abyssal energy left the crazy bitches hand and he took the hit. PAIN. No man had ever endured such agony. He contained it within him even as it sought to engulf the entire field. His flesh ran like rivulets down his arms and legs and his muscles cooked like cheap cuts of Denny’s sirloin. His brain reacted to the impossible load of neuron hellfire by simply shutting down. He might die, but before he went, he saw another lining the crazed, diseased bitch up. This rabid cur was going to be put down.

He saw a forest…no…a jungle. He saw a bright and glorious light. He saw a river of molten lead and lost souls full of dreams. He saw reality as an ever changing tapestry. He saw the heavens ablaze with no fear of burning. He knew he was to go beyond this too.

The door burst off its hinges like so much dried tinder wood. He could see the spirit as clearly as he could see the girl. It was not originally a creature of malevolence. It began as an embodiment of the flight response of fear. It was the true form of something that was integral to survival. It had been changed. Now it was simply TORMENT. It’s target was the girl. He knew her. She was manacled to the floor by three inch thick chains. There were scraps of her clothing strewn about the room, torn to shreds. The recent bruises on her neck almost as apparent as the blood and torn hymen staining her violated thighs. Rage ripped through him. Not her. She was pure. She was innocent. This shouldn’t be. This can’t have happened now. Not like this, not to her, not now, not like this, not here, not in this city, not in this way! The man liked goading her friend, yet he was not here, yet his mark was on her neck. He felt for her friend. What terror or torment it must have caused to be forced to wintness/participate/see this. The spirit converged on the girl yet again. The man knew that his face was wrong. The man knew the city must see the face of the devil. The girl would see the devil’s face too.

The same dream began again later…

The spiritual substance of the torment had shredded like chaff before for the unholy force of the man. His rage had not only decimated the spirit buy consigned it to hellish oblivion for its actions. Steel manacles were too strong for his powerful grip to burst without injuring the girl. Her captors hadn’t envisioned someone pulling them out of the cement floor though. He had accidentally had dislocated both of her shoulders which her gently put back into place. He almost couldn’t recognize her past the bruises and the fear and the shame. The last hurt him the worst. His long weathered black burlap coat slid off of him with fluid intent. Her weight was like a babe in his arms as he gathered her up. He couldn’t know her anguish as his coat wrapped around her. He could only guess that it was magnified manifold of what he felt hold her trembling in his arms. He silently swore that he would get her out of this hellish place regardless of what stood in his way. She would be safe in his arms. He didn’t love her. He didn’t desire her. She paled before the memory of his wife (End’s mind rebelled a moment as it insisted he had never married and was quickly crushed under supernal might). She would simply be safe. This he swore to the God of his youth. As he exited the room with her huddled and weeping in his grasp, four security guards appeared. No sooner did they reach for their weapons as each of them had an unlikely heart attack. The gleam in the man’s eye never wavered as a deep part of him hoped that their next life brought better choices from this lesson. A quick run down steps brought the pair to an old car sitting in the lobby of the building as police sirens filled the front parking area. Delicately he secured his precious cargo with seatbelts and got in the driver’s side. A guttural roar issued from the engine as the car rocketed backwards out the rear of the building into a suddenly appearing portal and into safety (End’s mind roared that it could do no such magic before it is once again squelched).

Two men face each other. Similar in height and not entirely unalike in appearance.

“Damn it, who are you?” one asks.

“I’m me and you are you, but we are one and the same.” The other calmly exclaims.

“I am me, but I don’t know you. Who are you…someone invading my dreams?” the first asks.

“Damn old son, we are dense, aren’t we? No you inbred nitwit, I’m R…”

The screaming shattered the night as Boomer sat bolt upright in bed. As her training kicked in and shed the last vestiges of sleep from her blurry eyes she knew it wasn’t a dream but actual cries of pain or anguish that had woken her. It was from nearby and likely in this very house. These thoughts raced through her mind even as years of reflex memory took effect and she was clearing three feet to the her door with her staff in hand. Exiting the room made it even more clear that it was coming from End’s room. The distance melted under five long strides as she threw open the door to his privacy that she had swore to herself she wouldn’t invade. What she saw startled her even as she momentarily let down her guard and her weapon.

End was sitting bolt upright and rigid in his enormous emperor sized bed with his eyes closed and the heel of his palms pressed against his eyes. He was screaming in stark terror as if the hounds of hell were baying at his feet. Even from her vantage point of half dozen yards away, she could see his sheets and chest drenched in sweat, perspiration running from his hair like a stream in spring melt. If she didn’t know better in the gloom of his exceptionally dark room, she would almost swear it wasn’t him. Smell alone ensured it was though. Even as much, the sound of his voice matched the vocal pattern she knew so very well, thanks to supernal force to interpret it.

Two steps were all she made into the room before his hands moved faster then any man should be able to react. His eyes almost seemed to radiate blackness as an entirely different voice came from his throat.

“You can just back the fuck off right now, ya conniving lyin’ whore!” the voice said calmly as power rarely seen in the fallen world erupted out of the man. Boomer knew there was a lot more to the spell then the life force assault she could identify but even that much was too fast and too strong for her to try to counter. She felt something rupture in her head as her heart stopped and the floorboard she stood on inexplicably broke beneath her, sending her sprawling into the wall to her rear.

Breath came with difficulty as a few moments passed and she could hear a sound that didn’t involve her trying to regulate her own pulse after a massive coronary. She heard the sound of hyperventilating and looked up to see End looking around the room in obvious panic and confusion. His eyes were hyper dilated and she could see the centers of his brain that operated on the most instinctual level lit like Time Square on Christmas Eve. He was in panic…no…he was in a night terror. He wasn’t even awake.

Slowly she stood up to realize that the next morning was sure to bring soreness and discomfort. She tucked away the idea that had End hit her with a single assault as opposed to at least two or maybe even three in one, she might not be getting up at all. Slowly she made her way to the edge of the bed and approached him. He continued to breath softly yet swiftly. Boomer raised her defenses and lightly touched him in the chest, gently pushing him back towards his mountain of pillows. Again with swiftness that defied reason or ability beyond the supernal, he reached up and grabbed her hand as he began to lay back. This wasn’t in her game plan, but it was close enough. As End laid back and curled to his right, Boomer slid up behind him and held him as surly as she held their child safe in her arms. She heard, felt and saw him slowly drift back into peaceful sleep. Only the truly gifted ears of her Thyrsus heritage allowed her to hear the last breathed words he spoke.

“Sorry I had ta lie ta ya, Fee, Darlin…”

Then he was asleep again.

Flight of the Intruder

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 07:08:23 GMT

As he looked up into the night sky, End couldn’t help but smile. He always made a point of doing this during the new moon to minimize the chance of being observed but the bloated clouds hanging low in the sky for the last couple days made it all the easier. Of course it also meant he was going to get mighty damn wet. After the last few days of quietly pretending to learn things from his teach that he had understood a decade and a half ago, End was truly looking forward to this though. It wasn’t that he minded the tutelage, but he did occasionally find it grating that regardless of his past actions and competence, everyone still saw him as a neophyte. It was something that would be endured. He certainly didn’t expect any favors; he simply found it amusing that everyone seemed to treat him with kid gloves. He also knew that some of them had doubts about who he was. If anything was actually annoying, it was that. It was like reverse identity theft and he had a growing respect for the pain and frustration some retirees in this state had had to go through.

The glass door to the back acreage slid open much smoother then its aged appearance would belie. Even from below the five feet of roof overhanging, End felt the water pattering against his chest. It was a bit chilly for April in Florida, but a damn sight warmer then he was used to. End felt no doubt this would be enjoyable for himself and for his flock. He slid the door shut behind him as he purposefully strode out towards the yard ahead of him. It took mere seconds before his shirt was soaked through till it clung like a second skin. The sights granted him by the many watchtowers of the Supernal showed him the vibrancy of growth these rains had brought. It also showed him something unexpected. Something he would have to check closer when he returned. He saw, more importantly, the watching eyes of his court. Hundreds of orphaned spirits of the Wild. Some found in the middle of an industrial park. Another found terrified in a steel foundry. Yet another one flagging under the constant pressure of a firemen’s hose. That last surprised him. The rain was inimical to brush fires. Usually that one enjoyed the oven in the kitchen. It seemed his entire court had shown up to witness this old promise between End and his court. As End slowly walked out towards the outskirt of the back light’s radius, he slowly peeled off his outer shirt, each button meticulously undone. The shirt sloughed off him and out of his hand to lay motionless in the dirt as End felt his will begin its work in his body.

The muscles of his back rippled and grew far out of proportion to the rest of his body as he endured the discomfort always associated with the hollowing of his bones. He bent over and shuffled his work boots off both to shed weight and to stretch the now ridiculously large back muscles. As he stood a solid 10 feet outside of the light’s range, he let his eyes shift into their newest gift. Suddenly the world changed from amazing to unbelievable. Lines of energy became plainly clear. The patterns of infrared and ultraviolet that always bathed the earth even at night became clear. More importantly, between the force, time and fate, he could smell the ozone forming in anticipation. His timing should be perfect.

He closed his eyes and slowly raised his left arm, hand curled inward with his pinky touching his palm. He felt the verdant explosion of growth erupt from his back and unfold. In the back of End’s mind, joy sprouted. Mankind had looked upward with envy to the birds overheard since time immemorial. Tonight, once again, End would fulfill the dreams of countless children and be in rapture with the desire of untold adults. As his left arm reached the halfway point to shoulder height, his right arm mirrored the movement. Only as both arms reached his shoulder’s height did he open his eyes to slowly look left and right in the bare seconds he had left.

Forty feet to each side of the man extended stark white wings of an unknowable number of feathers. Rain glittered off each one as it ran swiftly between feather and fluff to drip from pin feathers as long as a man’s arm. The time was NOW!

End smelled the sharp increase in ozone an instant before the bolt erupted out of the sky and smashed him between the shoulder blades, precisely between the wings. In that moment, he opened his road, his seared flesh wracked with pain as every bird in his court took their offering and exploded upwards through both the road out of the shadows and into the bright and exploded upwards as well. In that same instant End lifted his wings as well as his arms swiftly, the downward air pressure near buckling his strong legs. Twin four story towers of white swept downward as End’s legs, legs far more powerful then a power lifters, propelled his now hundred pound body upward. He reached escape velocity from gravity’s uncaring embrace in an instant as his road closed behind him. The rest of his court hadn’t crossed. They knew this night belonged to the FLOCK as the full moon had belonged to the Hounds.

Hundreds of birds of all sizes and description plummeted towards the clouds like a stone towards the ground. Rain pelted Ends face like hail as the strove to keep up with these beings that weren’t so much meant to fly as simply were what men dreamed of when they thought of flight. True, some of his flock held more natural views. His Raptor, led by the Thunderbird, or the Eyes led by Merlin were examples. Those that were wild flight were the most idyllic though. They represented flight because what doesn’t dream of flight, of Wild abandon?

End and the flock met the storm clouds at a rockets pace and plunged into the roiling thunderous mess. Vision swiftly became less a reality and more a memory. The head of his flock didn’t need eyes where he was though. End pirouetted on wingtip in a maneuver that made fighter pilots green with envy in their dreams an instant before lightning brightened the world like staring into the noonday sun. He forced his muscles to quit twitching in the static release as he saw singes in his feathers and knew just how close he had been to a second shot for the night. It would have been a shame; the night had only just begun. Next came the aerial hunting. End’s flock was not birds to be preened and told they were pretty. They were hunters in the sky. What humanity had dreamt of also sent it into shivers of nightmares. There were wild things in the sky. Things that could kill and maim sometimes came out of the sky. The Wild answered to End of Days. The important thing to realize was the Wild bowed before nothing though.

The thunderbird was the first to attack. Thunderbird was not an honorific name. With a wingspan larger then even End’s and a serrated beak, this behemoth of the air was a fearsome predator from out of history and nightmares. This was the creature that made southwestern native people fearful…during the storm. That last thought occurred to End as he watched the electricity build along the birds wingtips. Each beat of thunderbirds wings washed wave after wave of sound as hard as a hammer strike at End. Then it dived as End shot upwards towards it. Thunderbird’s talons, black as night and arcing with energy slid forward, ready to rend and destroy. As a handful of feet separated the two combatants, End folded his wings inward, instantly arresting his forward thrust. Thunderbird, unable to react fast enough, swept past End’s head with inches between his talons and End’s scalp. End could feel the discharge…and he could also smell the building ozone and could read the fate that he had already figured out for the night. It didn’t take a genius to know that the Lady was beautiful, but never forget that Fate is a bitch.

End pumped his wings powerfully, swiftly gaining on the much larger bird as it ponderously fought to outmaneuver it’s smaller and more agile foe. End slammed into thunderbird’s back, between the wings like a cannonball. Not enough to cripple, even to hurt much, the huge creature, but hard enough to stun it a second as the metallic taste in the back of End’s throat became nearly unbearable. End leapt off of the magnificent creature’s back just as the lightning hit. Wings tucked tight so as not to singe them again, End watched as the electrical discharge seemed to strike back upon itself, re doubling with each strike to the bird. As he watched, the great bird of legend and nightmare slowly faded from existence. End would make certain that he was able to rest a little and would mend swiftly and well. The head of the raptors in his FLOCK deserved no less respect.

For a few short more hours, End played games with his flock. None so marshal as he always played with thunderbird, but just as rewarding for the bond he strengthened with them. Whether playing tag in the darkness with the eyes of his flock or racing against the rain with others, the night, as always, brought bonds of friendship and service closer. Soon enough was the time to return though. It always seemed far too soon. Like any good dream that humanity has had though, it had to end.

He lighted down on the rain soaked ground behind his home, the birds long since returned to the shadows to find Boomer standing there. A bit of irritation crossed his mind at the expected lecture of doing something so vulgar. He bit his tongue so as to not say something he might later regret. Granted, he had begun the very basics of explaining to her some of the rules and oddities of dealing with spirits, but the fact was that even for a Thrysus…she just didn’t understand much yet. Of course, that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t be annoying to quietly take a lecture. He closed his mouth, breathed deeply to calm himself and waited for the rant to begin.

“Welcome home Thunderbird. I’ve been hanging out with your friends.” She said looking around at the gathered court in twilight and shadow.

The name she called him struck him odd. End began to wonder how much she might actually know about his rituals and the ritualistic battle he had just fought. His eyebrow cocked upward as his head tilted to one side to look at her more closely. He waited for more, an explanation of the statement or the expected lecture but she just stared at him with more exasperation as the moments passed.

“Fucking stoic!” she almost yelled as she looked down at the lone coyote in End’s hounds.

“You’ve understood me this whole time?” She asked irritably. The creature nodded again.

“When I find out how to get my hands on you, I will. Oh, I will!” Boomer said in a low growl while indignantly marching back inside.

End looked down at the old coyote with askance. It told the master of his pack that the woman had been making up cute names for every spirit she could find all night and that it had been telling the critters their new names. The mountain lion made of flame sincerely enjoyed its new name of Scratch Fury, Destroyer of Worlds. The coyote was pretty sure the prairie dogs didn’t like being called Chuck though…who knew for sure with prairie dogs?

It began slowly…from deep within End’s gut and traveling up his spine. The giggles matched the recession of his wings as he fell down and started howling with laughter. Each time he looked at coyote’s stupid grin, the gasping laughs just started again. Mud crept up his pants legs and stained his undershirt as the humor continues to tantalize his funny bone. At least he hadn’t gotten lectured.

Some people find thier own relaxation...

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 07:33:27 GMT

It was seven in the evening as the crickets began the chirping, he knew that he couldn't keep the smile from his face. There was a good chance that the property he sat on was the only place for miles, if not hundreds of miles that that noise wouldn't have sounded out of place at this time of the year. It reassured him. It just simply seemed right. With such a crushing spiritual presence to the north, it was good to feel the natural ways on this little stretch of land. Only four hundred feet wide and nearly a mile and a half deep, this land was ALIVE.

He walked to the back of the house and out the back sliding glass door. The doors were never locked. Any who would intrude in this place would regret it for what remained of their existence. The spirits congregated in this place didn’t appreciate intrusion with malice. The court had a singular sense of justice in a most primitive form. The man could appreciate this on his most instinctual level.

After exiting the door and re-closing it to keep the chill air from reaching the baby within, the man slowly stretched his muscles. Each group of weathered tissue slowly pulled from normal patterns of movement until the man could feel blood reaching the smallest bunching of tissue. Precious oxygen, so needed for life slowly built and peaked in each leg, each arm and each lung.

He began a light jog down the property line, getting his legs ready for the torture he would soon inflict upon them. His speed gradually ramped up with each step. What began as a speed barely above a walk became a fast jog in the first third of the distance. By the end of the second third, it became a run and then a swift run as he approached the fence that marked the property of his immediate left and right neighbors. Then his fingertips lightly touched the fence post and he pivoted life a point guard back the way he came.

That is when the speed exploded.

Boomer watched from the window in the kitchen. She was no stranger to the rigors of keeping in shape. Her lifestyle had not only demanded it, but her order made it a part of daily life. She often wondered how normal folks had the time to be alive and also keep fit. Seeing End trotting down the property line, she began to see the fallacy in his stride, the misbalanced step and the unneeded arm pumping of an inexperienced runner. It was fairly obvious that she was going to have to spend a bit of time not only getting him up to date and conversant in his order of choice, but also how to effectively exercise for better health and benefit. Then, with eyes as sharp as any hawk yet only slight compared to most new mothers, she saw his fingertips lightly brush the weathered old wooden fence post.

That’s when the speed exploded.

His arms pumped like engine pistons at his side in perfect rhythm to his every stride. His legs were jackhammers in the earth propelling him even faster down the property line. In the back of his mind which always ran in another thought process, he recalled that the four minute mile hadn’t been broken by men until the 1950s. Indeed, to this day the official record stood at just a second or two below three and three quarters of a minute. That placed it at a near constant speed of between sixteen and seventeen miles an hour. Impressive run. On the other hand, the four hundred meter time was only about forty three seconds. That put it at about twenty one miles an hour but, only for a short sprint. No staying power there. By the time he passed the halfway point down the property line, he was shattering records. Thirty-nine second quarter miles before he leveled of his speed. He was pushing a constant twenty-four miles an hour out of his legs until he reached the last score of feet before he ran into the house. At that point he, leaned back as his feet skidded across the ground and he lightly touched the old caretaker’s quarters. Then he exploded back down the line.

Boomer was awestruck. She didn’t believe at first that what End was doing was possible for that old bent body of his, regardless of how good of shape it seemed in…and that brought unpleasant thoughts that were rapidly filed under the do not think about category. Her eyes shifted into the realm of velocity and inertia, air resistance and wind friction. She opened her eyes to the supernal sight of force and life. She found herself dumbfounded for what was before her. He wasn’t using any kind of magic. She was certain he had spells up if only because she had seen his ritual casting of Big Magic in the past. She still couldn’t pierce his occlusion though. She was certain this speed wasn’t something he could do to her knowledge though. He was simply as fast as anyone she had ever seen…even on television. What’s more, he wasn’t slowing down. Sprinters could do what he was doing, not long distance runners. She had a growing suspicion her healing knack would soon be needed so she continued to watch as End continued hundred yard dash speeds down the property line.

As the clock chimed midnight, Boomer decided she wouldn’t be needed. The endurance that End seemed to have as he continued to run was simply inhuman. Hell, it was something she had never seen done by a mage either, and the stone book was her own tower. Something just wasn’t right about this guy. She had met a number of powerful people so far in central Florida. The flare of thier power difficult not to notice but End had nothing like that. Hell, he seemed as normal as any sleeper she had known most of the time. This wasn’t one of those times. Her sight of life made it all too clear that his heart hadn’t even crested a hundred and forty beats a minute yet. She also had little doubt that the standard one sixty danger zone wouldn’t necessarily apply to him either. The baby was crying for love, feeding and plain attention though so End could keep running. Boomer would be here if he needed help. Something told her she wouldn’t have to teach him how to exercise.

The sun slowly crept over the horizon as the man know to some as End of Days came slowly jogging the last few feet to the old house. There were thirty foot long ruts a foot deep at each end of the property that he would have to fill in later in the day. It had been good to run sprints with the wolves in his court all night. The moon had been full and he had made his oblation. He had felt when the woman and the child had laid down and slept for the night a little before two in the morning. He wasn’t sure what to do about her. That the baby was his was a virtual certainty. That the tyke had been born diseased was also certain and now irrelevant. End had been raised an orphan but he knew a father was suppose to look after his child. Curing Hutchinson-Gilford disease seemed a small enough thing to start with. He did wonder when the conversation was going to come up, but supposed it couldn’t blame Boomer for her hesitance. Hell, while the evidence was incontrovertible, he didn’t even know when it had happened. Then again, they had gotten drunk a few times…dozen times together. Time would tell, but it certainly looked like his roots had been put down for some time to come.

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 01:22:46 GMT

OOC...

Good stuff...new stuff but good stuff from local mage player

http://sereneinbedlam.livejournal.com/

How Jacob came to be headed towards the land of oranges and tourists...

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 01:21:19 GMT

It was an odd product of older laws. The property stood at a ½ acre wide…almost. It swept back like a beam for over 8 acres though. Some decades ago, the two dairy ranchers to either side had had a pissing match about the property line and a county judge had decided that they needed some breathing room. Neither land owner was allowed to purchase the property for a period of 90 years. The irony is that the property had sat in escrow in the county seat for three decades. After all, who the hell wanted a thin strip of land between the stenches of miles of cow? After the remodeling of the court house in the county, the escrow property was found and dutifully advertised again as required by law half a decade ago.

A few weeks ago, Jacob Talic sat sleepy on a bench in east bumblefuck nowhere. He was waiting on a bus that was already running three hours too late for his cold bones to find comfort. When the wind came up suddenly it bit into his flesh with the precision usually reserved for Africanized bees and Persian arrows. With is came a news paper front and back page dating from November of 2001. There on the back inside page were the governmental postings. Last page news, as any good newsroom editor knew.

Jacob didn’t look at the paper, he just thanked Lady Fate and crumpled it up and stuffed it under his shirt to help keep out the cold. It took another week before he actually read it and made a phone call. The property was still for sale…At 1960s prices. Jacob cashed in his bus ticket and made a quick deposit at the local bank. A deposit that grabbed the property for him, sight unseen, for less then the price of a family dinner at a four star eatery. He wasn’t aware of what he was getting. He wasn’t aware of what was on the land. He wasn’t aware of what was in the land. He also had no idea how the hell he was going to get from South Carolina to Osceola county Florida. He put one foot in front of the other with the setting sun to his right. Heh…he was even exempt from property taxes for a period of no less then five years.

That old Judge must have been really pissed off at those cattle ranchers.

My first night

Sat, 15 Mar 2008 06:56:40 GMT

It only took a glance to see that the behemoth spirits before him were powerful. They also represented unfettered progress. At eight feet of asphalt, ‘50’ seemed to be in charge…but just barely. The serpentine mass over his shoulder had avarice and desire in its eyes. It has desire for itself and desire for the power that ‘50’ possesses. Both of them held themselves in absolute opposition to the balance.

“The situation is going to get worse without a doubt “, Jacob thought to himself.

As a leader of a court that embraced the wild of nature and change, the stagnation that these entities represented made him fearful for what spirits of wild in the area must endure. Then the Serpent made a half lunge at the Sleepwalker’s friend.

The belt around Jacob Talic’s, sometimes known as End of Days, waist slipped off and swiftly wound around his right fist. Trapped within that belt was spiritual Armageddon. It held a spirit of such insane destruction that the only way to keep it contained was to lull it with even more destruction held as spells stored within the belt. The innocuous length of leather held the death of any spirit foolish to come within a mile of it. While ‘50’ and the serpent and the other would certainly survive, any attendants would face permanent oblivion. ‘50’ would feel pain as he had never experienced it before though.

Jacob had been asked to ‘stay cool’ though. So, belt in had, he kept his mouth shut and waited. Other then pomp, it went well. Then what Jacob had feared happened. The Serpent decided to make his own play. He saw it as it swept back towards the Sleepwalker and her friend.

Jacob flared his spiritual power bright and stared hard into the eyes of the serpent as he caught its attention. Slowly licking his lips, Jacob left no doubt in the interstate spirit’s mind that his desire would be his downfall. Hungry as the road was, there was something bigger and hungrier very close by. He could feel as well as see the Serpent war within itself as to whether it wanted to leap into the fray…after all; it didn’t know this upstart who stood like a god before it.

It did know the two who jumped in between the two staring titans though. It knew and it could smell the keys. Against expectation and with good judgment, the Serpent retreated though it doubtlessly saw it as withdrawing. There was no denying that Jacob had just saved the Sleepwalker’s heart if not life. It was also unlikely that anyone else would see it that way. After all, why ask a master of spirits why he has done something when it is so much easier to jump to conclusions about a new person.

Jacob wasn’t concerned. He would show his worth in small and large ways. There was a larger concern that would soon have to be addressed. It would take time, but time was one thing that End of Days seemed to have in abundance.

Roads would need to be destroyed to remake the balance.

Alpha and Omega

Wed, 27 Feb 2008 18:22:40 GMT

He felt it. Everything had changed...again. The tail to his heads was missing and what is the worth of half a coin? Miles had slowly melted under his rugged old boots when the certainty had reached him that, for a while, he was safe. That constant and neverending eye that burned across the horizon like a bad fiction reprodution had blinked, then closed. Would it last? Only Fate knew. It hadn't before, but some respite was a welcome relief. His soul ached from the damage that had been done this time in his pursuit and his evasion. People had been ended and it was his fault. Cities had creaked and crumbled and it was his fault. Hearts had broken and lives been shattered and it was his fault.

He stopped and pulled off his boot. How the hell had a pebble gotten in there?

He looked back into his past. Wife almost dead. Wife gone. Closest thing to family left long behind in the ground. A motley circus of near friends left behind for thier safety. Lies...so many lies. To the arrow, his ignorance. To the shadow, his loss. To the dreamer, his children. To the sleepless...the lie. They had to know his face. It was just bad timing. She will grieve for a lie. It is her way. Let someone grieve for him, maybe it will be better next time.

A dog jumps off a porch, racing for the edge of it's yard to defend it's property as the man walks on, a growl low in it's throat. He looks over as the shade from his hat shelters his eyes. The dog takes the hint and scurries back towards the broken down porch with it's tail between it's legs.

A lot of miles to go. Thousand miles, one step and all that...

DAMN IT!!!

Thu, 16 Aug 2007 22:59:36 GMT

So I get off of working a 24 hour shift and realize that I have no cash in my back pocket. I head to the Suntrust center to pull a few dollors out of the ATM. ATM is down, diebold is there doing repairs. Damn it.

The line wasn't long and I knew that I had a withdrawl slip in my case, so in line I go while fillin' it out. Imagine my surprise when I look up because I'm the head of the line and low and behold, the teller waving me over with a smile is shining bright and twinkly.

Then it hits me...I'm in the Suntrust center.

I walk over hesatently, not wanting to cause a scene. I look him in his eye and say...

"Can you tell me where the nearest operating ATM is?"

He tells me then says with a smile that if I want, he could withdrawl the money from my account to save me time. Then I see his eyes glaze over a second and his sharp intake of breathe. I watched the mana flow as one of the mage sights superimpose over his mark 1 a1 occular units. Damn it, this kid can't be more then twenty something and genuinly pleasent...I don't want to cause a scene and don't want to have cause to defend myself against a kid.

"Aren't you..."

"No, I'm not. For both of our sakes, but particularly your, no I'm not." I quietly say.

The kid's lips pursed together in frustration. Pretty damn sure it wasn't at me, but rather at being forced into the position I had inadvertantly put him in. How could I have been so sod buttin' stupid? I wasn't worried about myself and I knew that all Seers weren't even in the ball park of as bad as WT. Still, I also knew they wanted me dead on princable. Not clear on the why, but, it was truth. And here I waltzed into this kids lap like the exhuased idiot I am.

I saw a decision bare fruit in his head. He didn't have my withdrawl slip. It was still in my hand. He had no evidence of my true identity.

"I am very sorry sir, my system seems to be locked up. If you would like, I can bring you to another teller who can help you out. I have to report this system outage to my superiors."

"Thanks, but I'm a bit short on time, I'll just hit another ATM. Thanks for your time anyway. Hope your days stays nice." I really meant that last part. I knew the kid was going upstairs to report he saw me. I also knew that he was giving me an out. I calmly but swiftly walked out of the building and proceeded to hop a series of 4 different buses over the next 90 minutes. Never had any indication of pursuit of any kind.

Well, other then the hot breathe on the back of my neck that I always feel when WT is within 500 miles of my soul.

Damn it.

DAMN IT!

Tue, 14 Aug 2007 23:05:14 GMT

I actually wanted to show up to the shindig that Sol and Gyps threw. Thought maybe we could clear the air a bit. Even if it meant beating Sol's ass to do it.

Some things are unavaidable though.

I was at the ER picking up my schedule for the coming month when a pair of kids came in. One had been disemboweled in a knife fight and the other older one shot in the sturnum. 13 hours of surjury later and I was a bit late to the cook out.

Oh well. Things will either get resolved or they won't. Sol's right, me being in the company of anyone is likely to be less safe for them the more safe for me. I'm pretty damn good at staying hidden and moving quick and dirty when needed. Now maybe...maybe...

Fuck it. I guess I'll see what happens next.

The end has begun

Thu, 09 Aug 2007 00:00:32 GMT

Well...

I think I may have had about enough. I was made the most admired mage in Orlando for good reasons they said. They said no one had done more. They made me sentinal because they needed someone they could trust to look the same unflinching eye at everyone.

They lied.

I have birthed children and then found them when thier own parents had misplaced them. I saved them from total destruction when four score mages sought to return them to the cycle due to lack of vision and wisdom. I saved Fee when she was being raped body and soul by a spirit. I have saved countless lives through no use of magic simply because, if not me, then who? I fought against more then a hundred seers and thier 'minions'. I did it with my hands as opposed to shredding the disbelief of the world. I have battled long and hard against the odds and tried to save those who I could and who were meant to be.

It seems that these are not traits to be admired. So be it. I have walked my entire life without cabal or concillium before entering Orlando. I shall do so again.

Gypsy wants to call me out in front of everyone. Please little girl...

Try walking in my shoes...You'd stumble in my footsteps.

Well....

Mon, 16 Jul 2007 22:55:36 GMT

Hmmmm....The realestate lady thinks I'm crazy for listing the place for $50,000. Of course, she doesn't realize that the morgage broker has already lost my paperwork. Now I just need to find a good replacement for the head of trauma surjury at work. Couple of my interns are truly talented. So, it shouldn't be too difficult. Lost my wife. Lost the complete lack of respect I had among my peers. Lost the ability to really care too damn much. Heh..in otherwords...business as usual in life.

Mon, 16 Jul 2007 21:39:11 GMT

.......Its all gone to hell. Think it's time to start selling the furniture. I'm sure the house will sell quickly.

I suppose I should have seen this coming...

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 06:25:13 GMT

I have not seen nor heard from my wife in two months. I left for four years to ensure her safty. I guess she finally decided she couldn't accept that. Where ever she is...I hope she is safe. I pray she thinks of me kindly on occasion. I hope she knows that I will always be her lead in man if she needs it. I will always patch her up when she bleeds. I respect her decision. My only fear is that she still cares for me. Better that she cares less or hates me in the end. Therein lies the end of her curse. My curse.

I think it is time to use some of the 200 hours of PTO I have accumulated at the hospitol in the last six months and go get hammered. Nothing like and extra 670 hours of unpaid work each week to really rack up the paid leave. Yes, of course that is an exageration. I can't wrap time around my finger that easily. I do have quite a bit saved up. I think I need to buy about 52 gallons of good vodka and get blitzed.

Thu, 12 Apr 2007 20:44:26 GMT

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, Hon.” Ruktis said with practiced nonchalance. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what he was doing, but rather that he was simply uncomfortable with what he was going to do. A lifetime of training didn’t slough off of a person without some friction. A certain level of detachment was necessary to do his job. Both as a surgeon and as a Sentinel of the city. Getting involved in the little things wasn’t supposed to attract his attention.

“Remember we have reservations tonight. Don’t be gone too long.”

“I won’t.” he said to his wife.

This was always the way of it. They had both become accustomed to not inquiring too deeply into what the other did when they were away. Faithfulness was never an issue. Devotion, if not passion, was the cornerstone of their relationship and had allowed them both to begin to replant the barren ground of the marriage. Time would tell if it bore fruit. If she knew what he was up to at the moment, though, he wasn’t sure if she would laugh, be angry or approve. Some things they were both still learning.

At least things had seemed to get better after last week. Both of them had certainly gotten a laugh over it. While he had stalked her throughout the countryside and cityscape, she had been doing the same to him. The startled look in both of their eyes as they had each rounded the corner into each other still brought a smiling glint of embarrassment to his face even on this mournful day. The giggle fit once each discerned what the other had been doing was even better. Keeping his hands off of her that night had been particularly hard. While it was pure bliss to sleep next to her again, more then once he had been forced to shut down certain parts of his brain chemistry for a couple hours to help respect her space and timing. After all, she wasn’t the one who had abandoned him.

At three in the afternoon, traffic was at the stage of being annoying if not particularly bad yet. With a little luck, he would be back before rush-hour traffic turned the entire city into a parking lot. As the towers of downtown slowly passed he had plenty of time to notice the world around him. Gloom covered the sky as the much promised rain slowly drifted across the state. Odd that it was the brightest part of the day. The rain brought rebirth and the morbid grip that held the city seemed to loosen ever so perceptively. He hadn’t spoken to the rest of the area’s wide awake residents recently enough to see if it was noticed by many or if its cause had been found. A number of strange disturbances troubled Ruktis though as he drove ever southward through the stop and go traffic. Things he would have to look into soon. That wasn’t today’s errand though. It would be soon though. Really damn soon.

The cool of the shade in the parking garage embraced him sincerely as the shadow dulled the glint of his show chromed bumper. Reaching over into the seat next to him, he grabbed his black long coat and his identification badge. Walking the sheltered hallway towards the main building, he kept his head down and looked as if he belonged. The trick was one he had picked up long years before when he had done interesting things for his unit in the Army. The truth of the matter was that he did belong; he just wasn’t planning on being noticed. Ruktis never understood exactly what made him so inconspicuous, but it had served him well many times. Including this one.

As he waved at the guard and the nurses at the station of the burn ward, he knew that in seconds they would forget he had stopped in. They would likely be surprised when he walked back out and then promptly forget that when something else inevitably grabbed their attention. He was here for one reason, and she lay in the second room of the burn CCU ward.

Sarah Bernard was a small child for her age. Eleven years old and already about to graduate from middle school. She lived in a relatively nice area of Altamonte Springs. She was viciously smart and inquisitive. She had been transported to this hospital because it had the best burn ward in the area. It was a mere stop over until she went to Shands up north. That was until Dr. Dennis Oliver Anderson had done surgery yesterday. She had crashed on the table. Her heart had been too severely damaged by the heat. It had cooked the nascent breasts off of her and to Dennis’ despair had apparently cooked the right aorta also. The call was going out for a transplant, but Ruktis was well aware that there was no way a small adolescent heart would be found that would be approved for a 98% burn victim. Sarah Anne Bernard was going to die in this hospital. Dennis had gut punched and laid out the attending who had joked that at least they didn’t have to tell her parents. They had died in the same fire that had marred the smooth flesh of Sarah. Dr. Dennis Oliver Anderson was now on 3 days of paid administrative leave. The attending was out for two weeks until the swelling of his broken nose receded, allowing him to see straight again.

The smell of Iodine and burnt flesh assaulted his sinuses as he cleared the double doors of the clean room. He wasn’t afraid of contamination. Ruktis had his own methods of making certain that he was clear to enter. As a matter of fact, a cursory glance with the sight of his primary arcana told him that the will he had worked earlier still held. Not so much as a simple single organism resided within this room that wouldn’t be of benefit to Sarah. This was doubtlessly the most sterile place in the entire city.

He looked down at her and felt the tears of rage and pain well up in his eyes. There she lay, covered in gauze and neoplastine. Charred bits of mutilated flesh peeked out from along the edge and the quick spurt of white told him that the maggots he had secretly planted on her were still doing their job. They would disappear from existence in moments if the wall clock was correct. More importantly, though, the larvae had done the job and cleaned the wounds with more precision then even Dennis’ scalpel could have. The idea that the ridiculous backward thinking of this state didn’t allow for the use of medicinal maggots had stopped him for all of a quarter of a second. That had been how long it took to materialize them under the bandages without anyone noticing. She looked alien in her reclined rest. Tubes pierced her flesh in a myriad of places. Two in each arm to help circulate and filter her blood, thus lessening the strain on her wounded heart. Three into her abdomen to ensure that proper nutrients were kept at high levels. One into each stump that had been her hands and feet to drain off the viscous yellow ooze that always resulted from severe burns. The gleam of her blackened yet somehow still shining teeth the only thing that showed of her face. Her lips were gone and would no longer cover them ever. There was a tube protruding from each gauze covered eye socket also. They were pumping a saline solution throughout her eye sockets to try and keep the bones of her cranium moist in the vain hope that the marrow in her skull wouldn’t die. Despair and rage continued to well in the deep reservoir within Ruktis. He was acutely aware, as was everyone in the ward, that it was a vain effort to keep her alive. He also had no doubt that every single person here believed that keeping her in this fashion was cruel and heartless and was also a complete legal requirement. Ruktis didn’t believe in immoral laws. He didn’t believe in torture when he was perfectly well aware of what followed. Body and spirit. Less separated the two then even the wisest of many of his fellow awakened believed.

He could see how much pain she was in. Even in the induced respite from her agony within a medical coma, he saw the neural hellfire that was her brain. Her pain center lit up like a Christmas tree in wave after wave as the body futilely tried to right its balance. Fight or flight. On the most primitive layer, every creature knew this instinct well. Sarah’s body pushed to fly far, far away. The body is stupid that way. Sarah Bernard would never escape this pain. Even with a new heart and skin grafts over the remaining 90% of flesh that would certainly not regenerate naturally. Even with DECADES of therapy to manage the problems. Even with the shame she would never be able to put down. Even with the mind breaking loneliness of being a sudden orphan. She could never escape this.

Ruktis supposed the kindest thing he could do was extinguish her heart. It wasn’t in his nature as a doctor to do such things he realized with a start. While it was certainly true he had taken life before, indeed, unhesitant, he never ended the life of someone without reason in his own mind. No, this time he could never justify accelerating what was bare moments away. He could bring peace though.

It was a subtle twist of realities fabric. Even as he did it, he felt Sarah’s frail and scorched body resist. She instinctively fought against the alteration in her body’s natural pattern. Ruktis had all of Dennis’ skill with a surgical blade and wielded it with a compassionate hand. The cords of impulse, the very energy of life, sought new paths in her head. No longer did the electricity course along paths of pain. No longer did the neural clusters light like a holiday tree. No longer was Sarah in pain. What more, he felt her slowly breach closer to wakefulness. While the knowledge that she couldn’t see through eyes that were not there coursed in Ruktis’ thoughts, he knew what he was going to do ever before he arrived.

The twisted skein of the room alter further to his deft touch as the sight of life and fate, space and time, primal energy creating a tapestry that no sleepers mind had seen before. A sharp intake of breathe was his only clue that his weaving had worked. He felt the hammer blows of reality torn thunder against the inside of his skull but would not dodge astray. This girl, this orphaned child, this victim would not go into her sleep blind and alone. Let her instead see whatever she chose to see and Ruktis would gladly pay its price.

“Does it hurt?” Ruktis asked quietly.

“No” came the mumbled response, no lips and only half a tongue to form the word.

“Can you see?” He asked hesitantly. He had never tried to bestow the sights on a sleeper before yet knew he could have done nothing other then try.

“Uh huh” she said with a slow nod of her head. Noticeably absent was the cranium searing agony of raw moving muscle.

“Am I dieing?” She asked.

“Yes, Sarah, you are dieing. I won’t let you go alone though. I will be here to make sure you aren’t alone” He said. Few things brought him more pride then saying this without the hitch in his throat being too obvious.

“I can see everything, but, I can’t see you. Are you an angel? Have I been good? Am I going to heaven?” She said. She neither would nor could ever shed tears again, but he knew the sound of fear and torment in her voice. He knew she was afraid. So, he took it off and dropped every defensive measure he had. The sudden inhalation of her breath telling him that now she saw him. Saw the brilliant glare and twinkling sparkle of his more then living pattern.

“Yes, Sarah, you have been very good and you will be fine. I will be certain that you go to the place that all good people go. You will find the waiting arms of your family. They wait for you and they will show you the glories. Now rest, Sarah. I am right here and you will be just fine.” He said through choked voice and watery eyes.

It wasn’t long. He told her soothing words and made the muscles of her cheek twitch with the remnants of a smile. He cried ceaselessly and silently the few minutes it took. With no reason to fear and fight, no reason to react to pain that was gone, she was ready to go. At 4:05 PM, Sarah Anne Bernard passed away. Only one person witnessed it. He wept like a child in his misery. He had never met the young girl before a couple days ago yet felt as if a terrible guilt had been dropped on his very soul. He heard the buzzing of the alarms for a moment before the preparations he had made took effect. The sudden change of scenery to Fee’s office at E.P.I.C. was no surprise as was her absence. There in that sound proofed room, Dennis Oliver Anderson, known to some as Lead Sentinel of Orlando, to others as Doctor, to one as Husband, and to so many as the dirty F’ing Apostate Ruktis wept for all the lost little children.

Half an hour later, Ruktis stepped out of the non-descript building and walked toward Orange Ave. He walked towards the hospital, certain that he could get his car and get back home in time to spend the evening over a wonderful dinner with his wife. A small part of him still ached with the loss of the little girl, but he knew he would go on. After all, he had known for more then twenty years that there was more to life then life. He also knew without doubt that the small, the unnoticed deeds were just as important as the large ones. Perhaps with enough of them, he would replant the garden of his life.

part one of 2 or 3 or 4 or...whatever

Thu, 05 Apr 2007 04:33:00 GMT

The sun had gone down some time ago and the moon shone with terrifying brilliance. It was nearing the full aspect of its cycle with casual inevitability. Something was different though. The night wasn’t the same inviting embrace as always. It seemed darker somehow, less vibrant. It wasn’t just Ruktis who noticed it either. Everyone seemed a bit more somber, a bit more serious. Where laughter would be, he heard bare chuckles. Where words of anger were exchanged, violence too often followed. Ruktis felt it coursing through his own veins also. When the guy at the hospital had been rude, he had to refrain from verbally lambasting him back. Hell, he had truly wanted to just lay the guy out. Ruktis resisted though. The man’s son had been attacked by another child on the playground after an argument. Things were getting out of control. The worst part was that Ruktis knew what the problem was but was fairly powerless to fix it. Ironically, the hospital was one of the least effected places in the city, if not the entire area. Fatalities and terminal patients were down to record breaking lows thanks to Dennis and Bertram. They didn’t use magic often. Truth to tell, both of them could count on a single hand the number of times each had used any magic at all in the past month on the job. They were simply skilled practitioners. Bertram could treat and diagnose better then anyone Ruktis had ever known. Dennis was a surgical genius. Trauma almost seem to right itself in self defense. It made for a deeper healing resonance that contended with the general decay and malaise that seemed to infect almost everything else. And, Ruktis was powerless to cure the deeper cause of the problem.

This, of course, didn’t stop him from doing what he had come out here to do tonight. Most Willworkers were unfamiliar with the more subtle aspects of their existence. Not so Ruktis. His decades of self imposed solitude had taught him some things that simply weren’t needed by the more social of the supernal set. Why rekindle the old vows when you can just visit a hollow? To be honest, he didn’t know if the other towers had the same type of thing as the Stone Book did. He’d only ever learned two of them and had only used the second less then a handful of times. Tonight was for the other though. Tonight was for the hunt. To stalk a prey who challenged you, pushed you, made you remember what it was to be a predator. Mind you, killing was a complete waste of time, but to stalk…now that was the well spring of power.

Last month, he had tried it with Solomon. To be honest, it was disappointing. Sol may be a hell of a fighter and a good man to have at your back but he couldn’t spot a good predator on a bright day. The problem was that he had no knowledge of how to think like prey. Ruktis simply assumed that Sol had spent far more time being the hunter instead of the hunted. Not a bad thing he supposed since Solomon was an Arrow. Oh, he never knew that Ruktis got close enough to reach out and touch him, or that he had been stalked so simply. That was the point. The month before had been Sanguine. It was disturbing what that man did in his free time. Nothing illegal, or even immoral, simply weird or stupid by anyone’s standards. People weren’t meant to fly in the middle of thunderstorms. One thing though, Sanguine truly thought like someone who had been hunted before. He had a simple habit of knowing his surrounding area and watching for repeated faces.

Tonight was a prey of a different sort though. It was a prey he had hunted and a scent he had stalked often in the past. Of course, the last time was almost half a decade earlier and she hadn’t been awakened. To be fair, she was difficult to beat then, and now might well be beyond Ruktis’ capabilities. Luckily, Ruktis had grown in power and understanding noticeably over that same time also. While he wasn’t the impeccable physical specimen he once was, he was a lot more experienced now. Tonight, he stalked Lucky, his wife. His wife, the more then competent Guardian. His wife, every bit as Thrysus as he is. His wife who had blossomed into a powerhouse that remarkably followed the same learning curve as her husband. His wife whom he wished he could enact the other vow with.

More will come as i get off my lazy rear and write it.

A storm on the horizen

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 03:43:45 GMT

Disarm you with a smile
And cut you like you want me to
Cut that little child
Inside of me and such a part of you
Ooh, the years burn

I’ve found myself thinking back over the years. Not a lot of great memories. Lost in the Dept. of Family Services as a child. Four years of hell. Orphanges…more then I can count. The Old Man was an upside, but that was never meant to last long. The war. Always alone for the most part til I met her. Then I just got to be alone and extra special miserable without her.

I used to be a little boy
So old in my shoes
And what I choose is my choice
Whats a boy supposed to do?
The killer in me is the killer in you
My love
I send this smile over to you

Now I find myself in the defined position of ENFORCER. What a joke. Protector, I could accept more readily. The problem is, how do you enforce what you personally feel is a sick and pathetic little joke. FGC. They can’t be serious. The more centralized things get, the less personal choice will be involved in local affairs. I know this had to be a politician’s or a shadow man’s idea. I just feel that this will impact my slowly reaquired family badly.

Disarm you with a smile
And leave you like they left me here
To wither in denial
The bitterness of one whos left alone
Ooh, the years burn
Ooh, the years burn, burn, burn

I’ve lived a life time in my short number of years. I bear the scars, both physical and emotional, of a lifetime of war. I stick around due to being concerned for those around me. I stick around for her. I stick around because maybe I’m a little safer in a group. I don’t stick around to be the hunting dog for would be domitors.

I used to be a little boy
So old in my shoes
And what I choose is my voice
Whats a boy supposed to do?
The killer in me is the killer in you
My love
I send this smile over to you

Maybe there is something I can do before it is too late. Before the fate I have forseen comes to pass. Before the dream comes true. Before she is forced to make a choice. Before so many die to hold true to what they believe. Before I have to recycle people.

The killer in me is the killer in you
Send this smile over to you
The killer in me is the killer in you
Send this smile over to you
The killer in me is the killer in you
Send this smile over to you

I will protect those who detest me. Better to hate me, then to have to depend on me for safety. They play at games and do not see the big picture. Perhaps I can help them keep their rose colored glasses. Better I be reviled, then they see the truth.

Still hoping...

Tue, 27 Mar 2007 04:20:47 GMT

Not that he got to spend much time in it, but, the house always felt so empty when Lucky was out. He knew better then to ask too much concerning where she went. She had a cabal. A cabal and an order that needed her time. Even if it wasn’t the same path he chose to follow, he respected his wife’s decision. Things might have been different if he had been around when she Awoke. Lucky usually kept him intentionally in the dark about what she was up to. He knew she was a Guardian, but in all reality, that was about the extent of his knowledge. It was probably for the best. Even if he was as forthright as possible, he couldn’t expect the same on some subjects. He accepted it. This didn’t translate into liking it, but, he was determined to make things work this time. That meant respecting her privacy even as he was willing to be far more open with her then was altogether healthy for her.

The musty smell of the house greeted Ruktis as he opened the front door to the house he had bought them. He’d just finished a 36 hour shift at the hospital and walked in with his seventh pair of scrubs. The head of the E/R still hadn’t been able to find Ruktis’ records but had spoken to someone at the place he had done his residency. That was good enough for now until they could locate them. Ruktis figured he’d have to fabricate something soon. His records had ways of disappearing, even when it wasn’t needed. He had started his surgical rotation the day before. That’s when he had been able to show what he had been talking about. No magic, save from staving off fatigue and he had been brilliant. The work was like riding a bike. Deft touch, gentle probe, incisive instinct, careful work. He’d saved a small child. Car wreck. Saved his leg, too. One thing was certain, though. He was exhausted. He smiled that he would once again be crawling into his own bed instead of across the backseat of his old car. Unless he was at work, he had kept his promise about being in THEIR bed nightly.

Things were still working out slowly, but surely. She wasn’t quite so distant anymore. He didn’t have to use his supernal will to see the fear and doubt which still lingered in her eyes though. He had heard her worried soft tears even across the house more then once. He just wished he knew what he could do, other then giving it time, to make it better for her. It killed him when he would reach for her hand and the first thing she did was flinch back before she caught herself. He understood though. Loss was not a part of his life but rather, it was his life. He could understand how she felt. Due to his malformed upbringing though, he hadn’t the smallest clue what to do to make it better. So time it had to be. If he couldn’t say the right words, then he would show her though his actions.

They still shared the same bed. It may never again be consummated, but they were there together. And when he woke from his nightmares, it was always to her soft voice whispering calm words and holding him in her safe embrace. Things were working out. They might be okay eventually.

So, I came clean to her.....

Mon, 19 Feb 2007 09:47:55 GMT

I told her. All of it. The bloody damn truth. Every f'ing bit. Well, maybe not everything, but, all that mattered. Why I left. Why I stayed gone. I told her that I loved her. I told her that she was the reason I left and why.

Then she wouldn't let me leave. I think I slept the sleep of the dead withing seconds of my boots hitting the floor. I've been asleep for almost a day and a half. Heh. I don't even remember getting undressed. I must have though since My jeans and shirt are pressed. Check that. There they are in the trash. Those are new jeans and a shirt on the dresser. It kind of occured to me that I haven't had more then 7 or 8 minutes of sleep a day for the last 4 years more then once or twice. Great. Multiple masteries keep the body and spirit going, but it didn't hit me till after I awoke just how soul deep exhausted I've been since I left her side.

I also realize that this isn't a gurentee that things are okay between us. The tiny scared part of me still reels in terror that bad things are going to happen to her because of me. Everyone I've ever loved...more importantly, who've loved me have died. When she was in that ICU bed, I was broken to my soul. I felt the abyss(madness, not the other Abyss) welling up in me in my terror for her safty. That's a story for another day though.

I know she watched over me. Sybil's sight tells me all too clearly that she loves me. The miasma still surrounds her. I can't do it again. I can't leave her again. God help me, I'm just not that strong. For the first time in 4 long painful years I felt safe. I felt like I was home. I woke and the pillow was wet with my tears. She was gone when I awoke. She left a note for me. Said she had to check some things.

This is just rambling. There's still crusties in my eyes from sleep. Okay, she can find me and I know how to find her. Maybe there is reason to hope. Maybe things will be okay. Maybe she can forgive me for doing the only thing I could to protect the most perfect thing that has ever happened to me. Maybe she can believe I love her more then she can ever know.

God in heavens, forgive my greed, I hope she does. If she knew what I had done over the years of our absence...well, tried to do, I don't know if she'd understand. Loss can make a man a bit crazy sometimes.

Ever had one of those really bad attitude days?

Sat, 17 Feb 2007 09:41:56 GMT

Uh, I grew a herding cattle
I got more time than heroin in Seattle
You wanna battle with the Ruk quit frontin
I'll spit on your ass and then tell you that you ain't nothin
Grab your honey and your beer and I'll break South
Take your money then I'll tell ya get the hell out
I'll put your head out, this is my night
How ya gonna step with Ruk when I got the fight
I shot the sheriff and the deputy too
Paid off the feds now its all about my crew
What you fools wanna do
One at a time or all at once I'll still roll through your whole crew
Like a south bound trucker
Hoss and mother fuckers take shorts
Mother fuckers take a loss
And when you step with your anger
I'm like the robot from lost in space (Danger Danger)
I give a warning but if you don't take it
I'll put my arm around your neck like we're cool then I'll break it
It's all real cop a feel from my steel
Here's the deal when I say clap your hands like a seal
Or better yet give respect where it's earned
You'll eat me up I'm like a hot pepper and you might get burned
You took a turn for the worst
Walked up in my face rode away in a hurse
Now how you gonna front on that
D.O.A.'s in the house that's where I'm at

Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over here to the rear with your girl the fourties of beer
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over there with the bad attitude cause I just don't care
Where you at Ruk, where you at, Uh
Where you at Ruk, where you at

One-two and it don't stop
Three-Four and it don't quit
One-two and it don't stop

From the depths of hell to God's right hand side
I'm what's left of the get paid, self made pride
I'll step in stride, I'm raw as cow hide
My first kill's still rottin' that ain't no Jive
Am I the chosen one
Some people ain't getttin where I'm comin from
Or where I'm goin to stand back
D.O.A.'s in the house that's where I'm at

Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over here to the rear with the fourties of beer
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over there with the bad attitude cause I just don't care
Where you at Ruk, where you at, Uh...Uh
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Rock the house Yooooooooooo
Come On

And I'll be the long haired wizard with the lazy eye
Ask the ladies and they'll tell ya that I'm crazy fly
I'm steppin to the city like a soldier bro
I hate to sound like a dick but I told ya so hoe
Old Crow and a soul full of desperation
I'm rockin up on the city with no consideration
For you're church or you're family
Ayn Rand couldn't stand me so she banned me
I'm like a dandy lion Jack
You can cut me down and then I'll pop right back
And attack from the back like a great white
I'm not down with the scrappin but I'm down for the gun fight
Behind my back talkin shit
But when I front your ass you wanna act like a little bitch
Keep on and get your ass macked
D.O.A.'s in the house that's where I'm at

Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over here to the rear with the fourties of beer
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over there with the bad attitude cause I just don't care
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over here, Over here, Uh, Over Here
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over there with the bad attitude cause I just don't care

Where you at Ruk, where you at
Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over here, Over here, Uh, Over Here
Where you at Ruk, where you at
Over there with the bad attitude cause I just don't care
Where you at Ruk, where you at

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 20:44:24 GMT

one step, I make an imprint

two steps, is commitment

three steps, I'm not done yet

lift my other leg up

and the pace is set

damnitdamnitdamnit

Sat, 10 Feb 2007 22:36:34 GMT

We, as mages, warp and change the world to to suit our will. Wisdom tempers our desires. I have a far greater will then most folks I know. Thus, I have learned a terrible lesson just lately. Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.

She refuses to speak to me. I get right in her face and I get hardly a moments notice from her. She still cares, that much is painfully and dangerously oblvious. Yet it would seem her anger is far stronger.

It's for the best, I suppose. Perhaps the truest test of love is whether you are able to walk away for the safty of the one you love. This is for the best.

So, why is it that a piece of my life is gone now?

Why me? What the hell did I do to deserve this?

Thu, 08 Feb 2007 07:37:05 GMT

I normally only need about 10, maybe 15 minutes of sleep daily. It's just an upside to the knowledge of how body chemistry works. The wierd thing is that I decided to doze off in my car about 2 PM this afternoon. I just woke up at near midnight. Luckily, I know the inside of the library's computer lab pretty damn well. I don't expect anyone to really care what it is that I have to say. After all, most people I know activly hate me or see me as a frakkin' lotto ticket. I figure I have to put this up here just so I don't forget it though. It seems I didn't wake up because I was caught in a dream. I do mean caught, too. I've investigated my natural defenses, they weren't breached. Not even Imperial magic could have gotten through without me knowing. Oh, it could have gotten through, just not without me knowing. Note to self, find someone who can teach me Archmagery and learn. I didn't like being stymied like I was in Gainsville. I've ripped and shredded the defenses of folks who thought they were untouchable in the past plenty of times...this was just wierd though. No one can co-locate time like that. No one with time as I understand it, at least. And, if I don't understand it, no one does. Anyway, this is distracting me from my purpose here. I might be able to fool a security system nearly indefinatly, but it gives me a headache after awhile.

So, I was laying down for a nice quick nap in the back of my car. As usual, I almost instantly fall into a dream. My body has gotten used to the pattern over the past ...well, long damn time. I know that dreaming is needed to properly deal with fatigue posions that creep up, so I dream. This one was surrel in its intensity and vividness. It was 99% memory with only a touch of awareness of it actually being a dream. Hell, I even know the day it springs from. July, back in 2003.

The fetid reprocessed air of hospitals always annoyed me. The fact that I was laying in the bed did very little for my mood either. The worst part was the knowledge that it was pointless for me to be here. I had four gunshot wounds from large caliber rounds in me. I had made sure that the worst of the damage was healed before I ever arrived. The irony is that each round had passed directly through the scars I had had since childhood. Mostly the damage was cosmetic. I'd reaquire the scars that never left me no matter how often I body sculted them away.

All this effort just so I wouldn't freak out the woman who I found myself careing for more and more. I could hear her down the hall asking what room I was in. She had finally allowed me to go with her on a hunt. Weeks of cajoling her and proving I could handle myself had finally paid off. Of course, that hadn't kept the unexpected from happening. Her target had come busting out the bedroom door in the rundown building we had chased him into. The flash of the muzzle was all I saw before instinct had twisted time for a brief moment. Four rounds all headed for her tender flesh. I leapt before I even thought of how stupid that was. I was trying to keep my head down, mystically speaking, and had only the barest defenses up. I knew that I could probably survive anything coming my way. In the end, it was a damn good thing I had jumped. Hollow point .44 rounds would have left her a flailing mess of a corpes.

She reacted with a speed that bordered on the supernal. Six rounds from her 9mm in a third as many seconds. All of them jackhammering into his thighs and knees like angry yellowjackets bent on revenge. We had gone in with local sherrifs. They had a meat wagon on scene in no time. Everyone talked about how lucky I was to have been wearing a vest. I hadn't been. Funny how the mind goes out of its way to rationalize things. Lucky didn't say anything other then quietly crying over me with my head in her lap telling me I wasn't allowed to passout. As I closed my eyes and slowed my heart a bit to keep up apperances, she started yelling at me not to die. She threatened to hunt me down and kick my ass if I died. My eyes snapped open at that. That's when I first saw it. The gathering cloud over her head. I knew that miasmic mass of vile intent gathering ever so sutlely around her. It was the curse.

(now the oddity is that alot of the dream is from her perspective...wierd, it's like my head got in hers. I always wondered what she was thinking then. Other then a constant threat to rip off my squishy male bits every time I screwed something up, I've never known for sure and never thought to ask. Over the years, I've often wished I had. She didn't stat to open up to me until a couple weeks before I had to leave. God, she has no reason to ever forgive me, but damn, every part of me hopes she does. It would certainly be better if she doesn't. Better that she live and hate me.)
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Lucky walked into the room like she owned the place. Her instructions to the nurses were clear and she was gladened to see they had been listened to. Her friend had a private room. Friend. Somehow over the past few months, He had become more then just a friend. Not since her only real boyfriend had she ever let someone in like she had with Dennis. Ever since finding him stand up to that idiot in the bar and getting his ass beaten. At first, she had thought he was the standard guy. Figured to get in good with a girl by sticking up for her. She had quickly learned differently. Dennis just seemed to be that guy who melded into any situation. It was almost laughable how socially stunted he was though. He did try at least. He just didn't seem to get it right most of the time. He usually said the wrong thing at exactly the wrong moment. He couldn't work a person to save his life. The one saving grace was his honesty. Okay, that and he was damned pretty. Not in the angelic way that 'HE' was, but more in a gruff way. Like his entire body was well worn in and utterly comfortable. He was wonderous in the way a good pair of old jeans were comfortable. Sure the leather pants got the wows, but, all in all, the old denim just felt right against your skin. That thought was when she noticed she was beginning to get flushed and her breathing had begun to quicken a bit. Thank God he was asleep. These particular thoughts had come a bit too regularly just recently. She kept telling herself that she didn't think of Dennis that way. She quickly realized what a tissue thin lie it was as she watched the perfect movement of his muscles so very visible through the hospitol gown. He hardly moved as he breathed deeply in his sleep, yet ripples of muscle careened across his chest. It was probably simple muscle spasms caused by the minor surgury he had just comeout of a couple hours previously. Yet even that simple white lie to herself tasted sour with its self delution.

As Lucky quietly walked over to the chair in the room, she decided that perhaps it was time to be perfectly honest to herself. She had brought him to the ER those weeks ago because she just couldn't think of what else to do. Not at all like her now that she thought about it. Since then, they had spent an amazing amount of time together with him. He was definatly smart. He was also a decorated war veteran from the original trip to the desert. He also seemed to have a frank honesty that was refreshing. Mostly, though, he was unfailingly a gentleman. Maybe that was it. He had become like forbidden fruit just because he hadn't tried anything. Hell, she'd even thought he was gay for a few days. There was no doubting the predatory look in his eyes when he looked at some ladies though. Even when he first saw her. He just never acted on any of them. She had tested him once a few nights ago. As he dropped her off one night they had had a few drinks, she leaned in close with a mirror to the look in his eyes. She could almost feel the electricity in the air between them. Suddenly as they were only a brief bare scant inch apart he had suddenly changed. The silly look of drunkeness faded in an instant from him and he stopped. He lightly and tenderly kissed her forehead and got out of the cab to walk around and opened her door. Dennis walked her to her door and chastly hugged her goodnight. It would have been just another vaugly frustrating night if he hadn't spoken. "I had a great night with you, Lucky. Forgive me, but, I couldn't ruin it. One day, you will be stone cold sober and try that again. Things will be different that day."

He left after that and she had been thinking ever since. Thinking altogether too much. She knew he shouldn't come on a hunt with her, but, she couldn't imagine him not being nearby for a week while she was gone. Oh God. It couldn't be could it? Did she....no. Never again. Eventually things would calm down and she'd get back with Michael. That was the way things were suppose to go. Not a country bumkin from nowhere Texas. Michael. Not Dennis. Dennis was a great drinking buddy. Michael was...well, Michael. That kind of said it all. Where M was smooth, Dennis was sandpaper. Where M was Angelic, Dennis was a chipped statue. Okay, maybe a statue of David, but chipped nonetheless. M was rich, cultured and urbane. Dennis was a ranch hand cowboy who thought line dancing was culture. But...

She looked up suddenly as Dennis started making noise in his sleep. He was beginning to wake up from surgury. That's it, she thought to herself. I'll make sure that he's okay and then that's it. I'll tell him my life is too dangerous and that we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. Ah, who am I kidding, he'll probably be thrilled after almost getting killed.

.(I wonder how much of this dream is actually true. After all, while she did mention Michael a couple times, I've never met the man or really know anything about him. I do certainly remember the night she decided to tease me though. I made myself sober up with a quickness just because I didn't want her to do anything she wouldn't do if she hadn't had altogether too many drinks. I'll probably never know.)
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As I opened my eyes from my lazy attempt at pretending sleep, I saw her walking over to me. I swear I nearly felt stitches rip from my bodies natural reaction to seeing that level of sexy walking towards me. It's funny, she looked exhuased and worried and drained and covered in my blood and impatient with tonights stupid people and I have never seen her look quite so good. She asked if I was in pain. I told her a bit but not bad. Then I saw the nervous smile on her face. The look of near panic in her eyes. It was the reaction of a rabbit under the hungry gaze of a wolf. I knew it wasn't me, so it had to be a reaction to herself. She was about to start running and never look back. I placed my hand gently on her hand and lightly squeezed it will giving her a half smile.

"I have never loved in my life. I thought I had, but until I met you, Lucky, I never really knew what love was."

Her eyes got so wide that I began to worry she was in shock. Then after a terrifying moment, she breathed and smiled. Then she bent over and stopped her lips a bare miniscule scant inch from mine. "I'm stone cold sober right now." Then she kissed me. It was tender at first. I don't know if it was trepidation at my condition or simple fear at what she was doing. That was until I reached out and lifted her onto the bed without ever moving my tightly taped torso. She lay in the bed beside me as we slowly began to explore the contours of each others lips and tounges. It was a moment that seemed to last foreveruntil I felt her hand hesitently begin to reach under the covers. Not to areas that I would have expected from such a forward and forceful woman but merely to my hip. It was as if she wanted to enjoy more simple contact. To solidify herself in this moment and place. I understood as I felt my arms encircle he waist. There was nothing lustful about the situation, yet passion permiated every fabic of reality. Skin to skin contact ignited a longing within each of us that we hadn't even known or realized existed. The fact is, I wished then and in the dream and even unto this moment that she hadn't held back due to my injury. I also wish I had been more honest and said I was okay. Then again, how could I have explained to the nurses why my heartbeat had spiked so suddenly.

We stopped and stared at each other a few minutes later. Just stared as if trying to drink every ounce of the other in. "Do you love me, Lucky?", I asked her. She didn't answer for the longest sixty seconds of my far too long life.

"Yes, Dennis, I can't explain it, But I do love you."

"Marry me."

"WHAT?"

"I'm serious, Lucky. I know you better then you know yourself. There is noone alive or dead who knows me better then you do and I can't think of how I could possibly survive without you anymore. Make me the happiest man alive and grant me the pleasure of your company until the rivers no longer flow. I know you're afraid of being abandoned, but, I swear to you, I will never leave you. I will be by your side as surely as the sun shines on your red tresses in the morning light."

"...yes"

"What?"

"I said yes you dumb ass. I will tell you, though, if you ever do something stupid like get shot defending me again when I have a vest and you don't I will sooooooo cut your nuts off, capiche?"

"Yes Mrs. Anderson."

"we'll talk about that. Now get healed up. I'm not planning this wedding alone and you need to show your future wife if you do other things as well as you kiss."

Six weeks later, after an amazing recovery, we were married. That night I lost my virginity after more decades then I choose to recall. She didn't complain and I had an Elvis sighting.