New Beginnings and Old Behaviors

There are moments in my life that I wish I hadn't gone through in order to get to where I am. There are things that I’ve done, that I’m not proud of. Then again… Some of those things are things that most people wouldn't think twice about.

I’m not sorry for the people I’ve killed.

I know that’s a bit of a powerful statement, but when you’re an emissary of the gods, its part of the job.

Izri took a moment and smiled, looking down at her journal. It wasn't much but it was a start. She had begun writing at the direction of a few of the priestess’ at the temple. She’d woken here and been brought to the oracle at the temple. The woman that had been appointed to the temple was the only one to know how her exaltation, as it were, had occurred.

~*~

“You require a new name, child.”  The older woman spoke in a tone that didn't leave much room for negotiation. Tired, perhaps a bit wise, but still as compassionate as an individual could muster. Izri nodded and looked around her. Everything was white and gold with silver accents.

“Where am I, if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all, child. You are in the Temple of Iomedae. She has saved you, it appears.” The oracle stood, walking to Izri. She took her hands and traced the symbols on her hands. Izri pulled her hands back and shook her head.

“I don’t remember much about it honestly. I was facing death. Again. And then I was speaking in some… strange language… and now… I’m here.”

“Celestial by the accounts from the Andorian priests.”

“Oh gods… They’re going to be after me…”

“No. The kings guards will be.” A slight smirk emerged on the oracle’s face as she watched Izri.

“I’m glad you've maintained my sense of normal by allowing for accurate sarcasm in the conversation.” Izri rolled her eyes at the statement. She paused looking back at the oracle. “I didn't kill her.”

“I know.”

Izri paused in the walk about the room in front of a statue of Iomedae. The goddess looked cruel. It wasn't her features, perhaps just the stone she had been carved from. Izri smirked at that thought and began to think of the miracle it was that she had been saved, even if it had doomed her in the Kingdom of her birth. Andor would never welcome her home. She starred quietly at the statue, wondering about the ‘why’ of it all.

“Your thoughts cloud your vision, child. You've yet to come to a name.” As the oracle spoke, Izri thought she saw the lips of the statue move into a slight knowing smile. Izri smirked and shook her head.

“No… I have one. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter either…” She turned towards the other oracle and held her hands open, palms facing out. “My name is Mirari.”

“Miracle? Very appropriate child…” The oracle smiled and looked past Mirari to the statue.

~*~

 I have yet to set out on any journeys in the name of my Goddess, however… soon. The priestesses and priests are almost convinced that my ‘ maniacal’ past is behind me. Weird how when you represent a goddess of justice and all things white and right in the world, they frown on stumbling back into the temple right before devotionals drunk and in the arms of … someone not temple approved.

Mirari smirked and put the quill down. She bound the book quietly and tucked the quill into her up-do  She was growing tired of the temple life. Her bones itched to get out and back into the world. Or maybe that was just the clothes.

She stepped outside, the white and gold skirt flowing in the breeze. In the long side slit of the skirt, a knife sat on the oracles thigh, steel glinting in the sun. One of her religious instructors stood, waiting.

“You’re late.”

“No. I’m simply working on a different schedule than you are.”

“Given that it’s my schedule that I follow and set yours by, I’d continue with the prior statement.”

“Rigidity and I don’t get along, unless…” Mirari smirked and glanced downward to the priests groin.

“Don’t be lewd.” The priest flushed and shook his head, opening the scroll.

“Aww but it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”  Mirari stuck her tongue out and looked around at the gardens. It was beautiful here. Mundane and beautiful. She imagined a lot of people having religious experiences here.

“Why do you enjoy making people uncomfortable?” The sword knight was frustrated with her antics.

“Because how will you know your limits if no one pushes them? You've chosen religion as your life. It’s a safe, comfortable existence. Nothing has ever been learned from safety. In order to grow, you must be uncomfortable and even hurt once in a while. Religion is supposed to be a journey. And so is life. Take it too seriously and it’ll kill you before you have any fun.” Mirari lounged on the bench, watching the priests face grow sterner. “Besides, I can’t tell if you’re more pissed off with yourself or me at this point. It’s pretty funny.” 

“You’re contemptible. An awful example of all that Iomedae holds dear. Why she chose you is beyond me. I’ve killed people for lesser offenses.”

“And I thought you didn't like me!” Mirari smirked and the sword knight rolled his eyes, beginning to read from the devotional. Her head bowed. The readings did give her a sense of peace and they reminded her that her efforts against the governments she wandered through were not in vain. There was a higher purpose to be served. Besides… a corrupt government, or god should be fearful of it’s followers and people. 

Dwarven Greetings

Sylvie growled, half thinking half wishing that screaming, punching a cardboard box full of packing peanuts and walking away would make her feel better. The truth being that it might but there were way too many cameras watching her. She leaned against the cold gray steel of the backroom shelves and stared out the open bay door. The snow fell softly as the calm, frozen whispers of winter graced the threshold. A shiver ran up her thin frame, prompting her to pull her sweatshirt tighter around herself.  She frowned and thought about all the different ways she could get someone fired as she approached the open door.

“Fucking people don’t even know how to close doors.” She shivered again and reached for the rope to pull down the gate. “This isn't a barn!” She tugged but the rope wouldn't give. “What the…”

“Listen, I told you we took a wrong turn at the last portal.” A light skinned woman walked forward from the open door and pointed on a map to her companion. The man frowned, though it was hard to tell through the mound of facial hair present. He took the map from her, gruffly and looked back out the bay door. Sylvie stood there, jaw hanging open, not entirely sure what to make of what was going on in front of her.

“Are you a dwarf?” She heard the words leave her mouth and then quickly regretted them. The man whirled his frame around. All… five feet of him. His long black hair fell down over his shoulders to his waist, with a beard to match. His bright green eyes glared at her and a slight snarl emerged from his lips as her breathed a reply.

“What else would I be, you daft lass?” His voice was deep and guttural, and more menacing than Slyvie had heard from anyone. The woman stepped between them and looked Sylvie over before smiling softly.

“You’ll have to excuse our companion...”

“She doesn't have to do anything but stand there like a hooked fish with her mouth hanging open, apparently!” The dwarf snapped and looked at the map. “No we’re here. This lass is the one. Let’s just get her and be off. Sylvia Cressfall, you’re now with us.” The dwarf’s snarl didn’t let up, and Sylvie’s eyes widened as he put away the map. He gestured to the woman standing between them and she winced.

“Miss Cressfall. Your hand.” The elven looking woman extended her hand. Sylvie, awestruck; put out hers and was met with the slenderest fingers she’d ever seen. As her eyes closed and consciousness flitted from her body, she focused on the dwarf, hoping for an answer. “Now lift her gently, Baldrik…”

“Gently? If she doesn't get a concussion, will that…”

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on…” Slyvie’s voice faded as her world went black.

Purgatorio-io-io

The door clicked open to a grey room, awash in the less than pleasant feelings of uncertainty and doubt. The winds were fierce but still unable to move anything around them. Stagnation took hold of everything that entered here and held firmly to them without a care as to why they were there. Seraphina took a deep breath and walked forward into the fog. People wandered to and fro not really making any sort of effort to get anywhere. Others remained in one spot watching an invisible television with all the memories of their life playing before them, twisted by time and the unreliable memory of those long gone from the material. Sera looked down at the file in her hand.

“Illiah Skylark” she said softly pulling the first paper aside to reveal a photo of the girl 20 minutes prior to her untimely death. She was pretty in a kind, gentle, unassuming manner. Hopefully this one would be easy to find. Looking up from her paperwork, the cherub frowned.  Most of the souls before her were fading into the background of the realm. Not everyone that was here was necessarily bad or good. Sera pushed a curl aside and looked about once more before taking a step forward. She walked quickly and quietly through the crowds of people, hunters instincts taking over. It was coming back to her more quickly than she had expected. To tell the truth, it had been 50 years since she had done this. She expected that all that time to make a difference in her abilities but, this… this was good. Maybe she wouldn’t return to the material yet. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She stopped and looked towards the horizon. A woman, shorter than most, was walking towards her. She glanced down at the picture in the dossier and nodded.

“Illiah?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. My name is Seraphina.”

“Are you hear to bring me to heaven?”

Seraphina shifted uncomfortably. “No… I’m from the soul reassignment bureau. We’re bringing you back to life.” She smiled, hoping that’s all she would want to know right now.

“How long has it been since I died?”

“According to your file, 40 years. “ Sera said sifting through the papers in the file. “Why don’t we head back to the bureau and we’ll begin the process of acclimation to the material and you’ll get to know the persons life you’re stepping into.”

“I’m not being born?” Illiah frowned and sat down on the materializing chair. She looked up towards the newcomer with doubt and fear. She had wanted to go back. The material was a world she could remember fondly. The fear was deep seated from her death. The man that had killed her remained in the forefront of her mind. The material is where he was. 40 years though. Maybe he was dead? She had watched the trial as a ghost, wandering around the court room but he went free. There wasn’t enough evidence to hold him…

It was a cold stereotypical day in the northwest: rainy, cloudy, dark and dismal. The court would assemble in a little over an hour. Illiah paced up and down the streets of in front of Hope Point Court House waiting. ‘I’m dead, I’m dead, they can’t see me. I should get closer. Maybe they’ll have pulled up…’

Illiah ran towards the courthouse just as the frenzy of media coverage got there and began flashing their cameras  at the lawyers and the defendant. She pushed through the crowd easily enough(simply phased through) and saw her husband for the first time in nearly a week. He looked different. She remembered him as caring and, right up to the point where he strangled her. Her hand went to her throat, trying to protect herself from the feeling of suffocation again. The man who had loved her, now looked towards the doors of the court house, failing to hide his satisfaction with the situation. It had been nearly 2 months of trials and deliberations, upon whether or not he was guilty of the strangling death of his beloved wife. He had cried on several occasions in front of the jurors claiming to miss her terribly. Each time he tried, Illiah screamed to no avail. For a brief moment her ghostly wails were strong enough that it sent a chill through the courtroom, causing all assembled to question; for a moment, his sincerity that day. Illiah was sure she was wasting away watching these proceedings. Every day she left the courthouse sure that the next day they would bring in more people to testify against him, yet everyday she was let down by the prosecution’s lack of evidence. It wore away last nerves and today… today she was sure he would be sent to jail or set free.

“All rise” The judge, jury and parties were seated and the jury was sent into deliberations. A little over an hour later, the jurors re-emerged looking solemn. Illiah waited with baited breath for their decision. 

“We the jury find Richard Skylark, innocent on the charges of murder in the first degree.”

            Richard looked at his lawyers and smile, patting one on the back on the way out. He walked past his wife’s ghost, and out the doors into his new found freedom. Illiah would never forget the look on his face. Never.

            Sera looked at Illiah who seemed to be in a trance like state, similar to all the other souls surrounding them at the moment. ‘What is it like group remembrance time or something?’ she thought gathering the strength to try to pull Illiah out of it. Her face had contorted into an angry snarl, and her entire body had tensed up in the chair. Sera was actually scared of pulling her from whatever memory it was that was causing her to be this upset.

            “Umm….. Illiah?” No response. “Illiah…Illiah!” She raised her voice to a sterner tone, taking the girls hand in hers and squeezing.

            “What?” Illiah blinked a few times and shuddered remembering where she was again. It was always hard coming back from the dream like state of remembrance.  She looked about frantically, half expecting to see her husband standing in front of her.


             "I'll kill him."

An Inkwell Webinar: Villainy!

Hey guys!

This week has been a little hectic for me, work wise, so the posts are a bit out of the normal order. In addition to the work schedule, I had a bit of a personal issue to deal with, however, that has been conquered for the moment.

Now that that's out of the way, two weeks ago at Inkwell Imaginings; we ran a series on villains. Below is the webinar and some photos of our white boarding including some info on a character that some of you have read about, named Erik. Sound familiar? Good!

White boarding adventure! (Yes, yes I know, my handwriting is not 100% legible in some spots. Apologies!)

From the Desk of A Mad Scientist

Greetings and Salutations,

While I am aware of the formalities expected towards this prestigious council, I will be keeping this in plain common for those within the council walls that may in fact be more brawn than anything else. Your demands on the scientific community have been oppressive at best, of late.

This is being brought to your attention, not because of the new chairperson overseeing the development of weaponry and the like, due to the fact that, suddenly, three of my minions have turned up dead. Now, I would like to blame the forces of good, and chalk it up to an unfortunate casualty of the business but the evidence otherwise is a bit too overwhelming to point fingers elsewhere. Ms. Raven’s instruments of death have been well categorized by myself and my colleagues, noting the specifics of the poisons she uses in an effort to make them look natural within most the human species. These same poisons were found within one of my minion’s circulatory system. I’ve done some preliminary investigating on my own, suspicions being followed before revenge was approved by the council. In a in-person follow-up, I’ll present all of the findings.

For now, however, I’d like to place my name in for the replacement of the talented Crimson Raven, our current chairperson. Below is a copy of my resume, including all the of the contraptions and gadgets that I’ve supplied over my 15 year stint with the council, including some freelance work. The highlights however, include my current project, a dragon automaton, with fire ‘breath’ that can shoot , on a full fuel tank, up to 100 feet of flame, and can perform tasks up to the cognitive level of that of a young child, through some dynamic programming and a little ingenuity. This stunning piece of work is one of a kind and currently going through our patent office. The client, who generously provided the materials and funds; chooses to remain nameless has provided thorough documentation on his/her alignment.

Oh, this all seems suspicious, you say? Too many things starting to point the bony finger my way? Adorable, that your childish minds cannot comprehend someone who takes the initiative to submit a report, perform an autopsy, and recommend oneself for the soon to be vacant position. Though you would be right to investigate, those that are veterans to the Council will vouch for my abilities in that given arena. I don’t kill. My creations do. Poisons are for people who want to watch the slow decline of a victim. I prefer a hands off approach. Something more… inventive. Less old-lady-killer-esque.

I look forward to your quick reply. I’ll have my lasers aimed towards the sky. Do be so kind to try to sneak up this time. The minions need the target practice.

Gracious Send Off,

Erik A. Mathhers

Mad Scientist Extraordinaire
Tinkerer, Inventor, et al. 

From the Audience: A Look at Marie

“I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time. A place where the lines seem to blur together, no one really noticing boundaries. I invite you to take a seat and to watch the show.  The hangman and the puncture artist will welcome you with open arms and instruments, looking for a willing stretch of skin and perhaps an unloved neck.  Oh no, dear Clementine; this side show is anything but what you were expecting. No child.”  His voice was soft as he nudged her to the door of the arboretum. The woman was terrified. That was clear but then again, so was her enthusiasm. Her wide eyes, fighting for emotional control of them. The ringmaster saw it and simply, ushered her in. The ring sat waiting for the show, a crowd sitting quietly whispering to themselves. He sat dear Clementine down in the only open seat, taking her coat and placing it over the back of the chair. The ticket collector came to her, but the Ringmaster waived him off. 

“She is my guest.” His cool hand lay on her barely covered shoulder and his stare was just as cold. The ticket collector gave the girl and odd smile and then continued. Clementine looked back at the Ringmaster as he walked to the back of the theater.

‘What have I gotten myself into?’ Her gaze turned from fear to rapt excitement as the lights dimmed. Her focus was brought to the center ring. A small woman with a thin bone structure sat limply, piercings fresh through the skin near her joints. She looked… dead. Clementine gasped, seeing a bald gentleman walk up from behind her to the roar of the crowd.  He flourished and bowed, drinking in the moment. His hand extended to the girls, picking her hand up. Her eyes blinked. ‘She’s alive!’ Clementine inhaled sharply and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.  The woman was stunning. Simply beautiful… but she couldn’t be alive… No one in their right mind would put themselves…

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the show! I see you have already been greeted by our lovely Marie. Please, do give her a round of applause!” The audience erupted and the Ringmaster gestured towards the girl now suspended midair, giggling and hanging limply. A bald man stood behind her almost in the shadows, saluting the crowd, a grin across his own makeup covered face.  He tugged a rope and Marie’s head popped up looking over the crowd, eyes connecting with Clementines…

“Yes we have a new guest for the evening, thank you for noticing my dear.” The Ringmaster didn’t even look up but gestured to the girl in the audience. Marie let a smile slide across her lips as her master, tugged another rope and a series of smaller strings. Her hand raised and she waved gently, her fingers dancing up and down with the string, accordingly. Clementines stomach turned and she help a kerchief over her mouth. She felt faint but could not look away…The Ringmasters eyes glinted as he watched her reaction, starring at the girl. ‘What have I gotten myself into’ she thought quietly as the show began to seem to revolve around her…

Speak Out with Your Geek Out: Costumes Continued

So even though Halloween is still a month and a half off, I've begun onstruction of my costume for this year. Given my last post about how much I love costumes, I'm going to share with you some of the pictures I've taken of my construction so far. It's a hat! I do so love the hat. The materials used with 1/4 yard of single ply netting in both black and purple (not tulle, that's something much finer), a purple 3 inch flower, one glittery purple and black bird, some 1 in purple satin ribbon, and a cheap top hat from iParty. Below are the results!

What are you doing for Halloween? Send me your pictures! I'll proudly post them in a special Halloween Week series of posts.

<3 Jessi

Speak Out with your Geek Out: Costumes

Ok, ok. I'm sure you guys were expecting my first Speak Out post on gaming, writing, or something of that ilk, because I talk about it CONSTANTLY. However. There are a few things with which I frequently geek out over. One of them is costuming.

If you're one of my close friends, this is no surprise to you. I've done a few costumes in the past for friends, not in the least bit excluding my work on a Final Fantasy costume extravaganza. My interests in costuming have deep roots in my love of theater and the ability of clothing to transform a person. Sometimes all it takes is a new hat to make an outfit a thousand times better. Ok, maybe not a thousand times, but pretty darn close. Beyond a simple outfit change is the mental change that's taken on by the person to sort of become that figure that they're representing.

My personal experience in the world of costuming has been short but entirely fulfilling. A few years back I created the aforementioned final fantasy costumes for myself and two of my friends for Halloween. My costume alone took about 72 hours of almost non-stop work, and countless hours on the other two. By the end, Cloud, Tifa, and Lulu emerged to a Halloween party, with rounds of compliments and a ton of congratulating. I even got mentioned in Cloud's Best Costume acceptance speech. It was all a lot of fun and to be honest something I wouldn't mind repeating. I work on costumes for Ren Faires on the side, mostly for myself. Occasionally I'll work on something for someone else, with no pay, but entirely for the love of working with the fabric and seeing the 'customer's' thrilled face at the end of it. Watching them go through fittings and adjustments, so it fits them perfectly is great.

I've always be fascinated by this sort of change. Just watching shy individuals go from their day to day to these amazing characters all because of some make-up, hair, and wardrobe. This sort of change is expected of actors and stage-folk, however the change is most remarkable from those that you have friends of, most likely. Or at the very least, you've heard them whispered about in the shadowy corners of the gaming and convention worlds. Cosplayers and LARPers. No? Oh ok, just no idea of what they are. Time for a brief explanation.

Cosplayers are “short for 'costume play',is a type of performance art in which participants don costumes and accessories to represent a specific character or idea.” This sort of performance (and yes, it is a performance) can range from Halloween to any particular convention you attend. Often times at these conventions there are prizes for best cosplay for the weekend, with many contests and events for the costumed to parade around and show off their handy work.

LARPers are “Live action role players”. These individuals dress up in costume, must like the cosplayers , but take it a step further acting out their characters and recording their hits, misses, successes and failures within the game environment. More often than not these people can be found in groups over the weekends in the woods with their friends, practicing their craft. I should say right off the bat, that while most people have some degree of disdain in the gaming world for these people, I don't share in that opinion. Hell, I think it's great! Have I done it? No. Will I ever? Probably not. Why, you ask? Why don't you?

Regardless on your feelings on either of these categories, the idea of dressing up and acting is not a new one nor a terribly novel concept. It's trans-formative powers are amazing and quite well known throughout the world. Another wonderful example of the costuming art? Drag Queens. Love them! No really. I think it's amazing. I really do. I've watched a few on tv and then so many tutorials online about how to cover and fix and conceal things that, if I were a man, I'd have tried it by now. Helps that I have a ton of makeup. Another one of those; if you know me, you wouldn't be shocked moments.

Costuming and makeup offer the world a chance to see yourself in a different light, potentially a more positive one that will drive you to bring these sort of behavior that you may want to make slight changes in in your day to day. So think about it the next time you start your day on a sour note. Maybe throw on your favorite shirt, or spend a minute or two extra fluffing your hair. Something little that can help transform your attitude and the attitude of those around you.

Namaste,

Jessi

I am only responsible for three of these costumes, but
the party was amazing. Great memories.

Brian Pt. 2

“Oh hush...” Her finger came to my lips and she continued. “Shhhhhh... little boys shouldn't scream like that... shhhhhhh.” I stopped. My throat was raw with searing pain. “Now isn't that better?” Her hand moved from my mouth to caress my cheek. I forced myself from her hand and stood, finally able to break away from what was holding me. She stood. The woman was in fact a woman and stood about five foot ten. She was taller than I am, but thinner. Her bone structure was fierce, and somehow reminded me of a lioness. A man stood next to her, though I hadn't seen him before now. He had similar features, and I could only guess was related to her in some way. I looked behind them, peeling my eyes off of my captors momentarily. The windows...

“Ah, I see you notice where we are. Good.” My face paled as she spoke. I stood in the center of the room I had been fighting to escape the consequences of for months. I feel to my knees, half in disbelief, the rest because, suddenly my body couldn't handle it's own weight. My arms fell to my sides and my head lolled back. I felt myself start sobbing. I couldn't stop the flow of tears. The eyes had seen too much and needed to wash themselves of it all.

“Stop crying, little boy...” Her voice started up again after a moment of watching me sob. I turned my head and the woman came into focus. The man stepped forward, stopping in front of me. He looked down a sort of sad smile on his face. I looked into his eyes, looking for some sort of hope. Instead of receiving that sort of grace, I got slapped. I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip, taking a sharp inward breath. There was a soft 'hrmph' from behind him. I reopened my eyes to see his peering down into mine. They were gold. It was an odd color... but beautiful none the less. My face was grabbed and I saw instead of gold eyes, a pair of steely blue eyes met mine. They were hers. She pulled me to standing, seeming to carry the weight of my entire body by my chin. I whimpered. The pain was great, but I could only imagine-

“He thinks too much... Micheal, grab him and tie him to the post.” Gabriella shook her hand out, the punch having cramped it up. She cracked her neck and looked behind her. Adam was being tied to a post but Brian was stuck in the mirror across from him. Reflective surface, visible psychosis. Alter ego, demon, whatever you wanted to call it. Gabriella never called them demons. They were another side of the beast that fights for control. Brian sat quietly one eye brow arched, watching Micheal and Gabriella with growing interest.

“You're not going to do this are you?” Gabriella answered simply by pointing a gun at Adam's head and blinked at the reflection of madness. “Ah. I see.” His voice was chilly and somewhat calculating.

“My interest is not with you. I need to shut you up however. This poor little boy you're fighting over doesn't need the torment.” Her voice almost purred, as she dragged the gun's barrel down the unconscious man's neck. Brian frowned and then turned from them for a moment. Micheal frowned, glancing between his sister and the mirror. Gabriella's face remained fixed on the mirror.

“Fine. You have another year.” Brian's gaze fell over his shoulder not looking directly at either of them. “After that I will be back. He'll need to forget all of today.”

“A concussion will do the trick.” Gabriella frowned and raised a brow checking the mirror. “If you show any signs of deceit...”

“You wouldn't know they were coming” His words were quick and spiteful. A small smile formed at the corners of Gabby's mouth and she nodded, cocking the pistol and firing three shots into the mirror. Micheal blinked and began to untie Adam.

“We've got some work ahead of us...”

“Good morning, sunshine...” I woke to a bright light streaming through the hospital windows. A familiar face looked at me, though, I couldn't place her. I smiled at the nickname, and winced as the pain in my body rushed back to me all at once. “I'll call the nurse.”

I forced a half heart-ed smile and I closed my eyes again. The pain was incredible. The confusion was worse... Was there someone else in the room? I opened my eyes again, but it was much too bright to tell. Ah well. Maybe another friend...

Sins of the Court

"Order!" The Duke shouted as the Princess stood outside of the doors of her courtroom. I stood next to her for the time being, but would separate and go take my seat among the Knights and the Monsters of the Order. I nodded to her as the door opened, sword clattering at my side as I made my way to my seat. The Court was having nothing to do with any of the pomp or circumstance surrounding the arrival of the royal family member today. It seemed the Mancers had other issues on their minds. They remained civil within the Court but only because their powers were rendered useless within it's confines. The Knights and Monster alike were rendered useless, any actions taken led to harsh punishment for anyone involved, not only at the hands of the Mistress but also within the Court.

'Odd. She's here. Perhaps our Princess isn't as naive as I had assumed...' I mused while taking a seat, only to rise again, as the Court finally came to order for the day. The Mancers were silenced and the Order backed down, letting the nobility take charge. I frowned. My amusement had disappeared with the fighting. I turned my attention to my charge who unlike the rest of the crowd, seemed to be at ease, taking a slight direction from the adviser to her left, a woman that looked to be part cat. The woman was in fact, part cat, deriving her appearance on something that made the little princess at ease when she was a child. She nodded silently as the Princess, now fully grown, raised her hand and grabbed the long stemmed scepter , slamming the butt into the ground, sending a shock wave of light green energy through the room.

"The Court is now in session. The Princess will address the Court." The Duke stood back and bowed to the woman, positioning guards at the exits without so much as a word. The simple gesture sent the court into an uproar once again, the Mancers threatening to leave. One stood and pointed to the Princess, black feathers erupting from his back in a cloud of pointless bravado.

"You are not our Queen. We shall not listen to the likes of a child, with minimal pull. Go back to your nursery and re-emerge when you have found a cure for your father." The Mancer cried. Ah perhaps this wouldn't be as boring as I'd thought. I turned to the Princess who stood, slowly, watching the movements of the upstart Mancer. Before she could speak, a Knight flew to her side. Knight Leongaurt from the Order of the Rose. The Order had been sworn to protect the women of the Family since the first human came to rule the Nightmare Realm. He was young and the only thing that matched his bravado was his lust for the Princess. He was strong and certainly would attain the rank of Captain with relative ease, but his relationship with the Princess was always called before the Order. This wouldn't help his case. I ran a hand over my bald head and smirked.

"You have no right to speak to your future Queen that way, Mancer. Stand down, and no harm will come to you, or do you so enjoy your time with the mistress, you'd be willing to spend some time with her..." His threats weren't idle, as the Knights could commit anyone to the care of the Mistress. The woman stood walking forward towards the throne, bowing her large black brimmed hat to the Princess. She shuddered and nodded, the woman turning to face the Mancers. In an instant the imposing black figure was in the stands behind the Mancer. Her finger slipped gently around his throat, caressing as though she would take him as a lover. The Mancers gasped as their member turned ghost white, as if the life was being sucked from him.

"Enough. I will not rule through terror... yet." Princess Illia whispered to the cat hybrid. The woman nodded and gave a harsh look to Leonguart. He nodded.

"Don't toy with your prey so much Mistress... Why don't you come join us back on the floor..." Leonguart smirked and the woman pulled away, the Mancer collapsed into the arms of his peers. The Mistress blew him a kiss and disappeared before reappearing near the Princess. She bowed and stepped back into the shadows behind the throne. The Mistress was the real power behind the court, or rather the Family's power. She was an ageless beauty with a fearsome power. She could draw on people's worst fears, exploit them, and then torture you. All she needed was to touch your skin, and she knew. Her eyes glowed a quiet blue, as I made contact with them. She smirked and winked at me. She and I were... complicated.

The Princess stood and looked over the room taking in the sounds of madness that poured from everyone's mouths. The collective chatter was something that she never could make sense of, nor did she care to at this particular point. The scepter raise above her head and slammed into the ground again, causing the crowd to silence. She frowned and shook her head, looking at the Mancers first.

"My father is dying." The room went deathly quiet.

"Stupid move, little girl" I growled and felt one of the knights squeeze my shoulder. I ignored him and stood, walking to the platform. I was blocked twice, but by new people that knew not who -I- was. I simply pushed passed and stood behind the throne with the Mistress, frowning my disapproval. Her gaze however, was unchanging. She looked down for a moment, before her gaze returned to the crowd.

"Despite the multiple leads that are flowing through the kingdom, my story will be the only to remain unchanged. My father is trapped within Reality, unable to traverse the gap between worlds any longer. His soul is too feeble to be able to live a dual life. His flame is diminished. I am left in his place, and while I cannot promise the years of peace or transgression free environment that my father allowed for, I can state that I will do my best to follow his will and allow for the continuance of his leadership. I am not him, and with that being said, I will ask for the permission of the Court and the High Council to continue my work here." She took a breath, her eyes sparking, light gold flecks catching the waves of lights that flooded into the room from the early morning sun. For the first time since she ascended the throne, she was starting to sound like a leader. The poor little naïve girl was beginning to get her footholds. To me, this was the most dangerous time of all. This was the time that many would try to win her over, the newly rooted power often corrupted faster than any single being could allow for. She continued. "My plans for this world are great and far-reaching, with implications that will be discussed. Over time, I hope that you all will understand what I am doing. For now however, consider this." Her voice grew cold and menacing as she said the next statement. "I will kill any that stand in my way." Ah there she goes... Her voice, to those who weren't paying attention was certainly sincere. To those of use that knew her however, she was frightened. She was yet, unable to hide much from anyone within her inner circle. Kill them she would, and if she was anything like her father, in her rage, she would kill entire bloodlines. She was like her father in many aspects, her rage, however had yet to be shown. I chuckled to myself as a gloved hand touched mine. I shook my head and kept my gaze forward. The hand retracted and i heard a slight sigh. She would wait. I had to attend to the eventual fallout from this little outburst on our Princess's part. And the fallout didn't take long. The roar through the crowd was a mix of laughter and disbelief. Those that laughed would be the first against the wall, when her rage was tested. Her head lolled from side to side, lazily, letting a smile pass aross her lips. I stepped beside the throne and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped back behind her, relaxing after seeing it was only me. She nodded and looked back out towards the Court.

"The laughter is cute." She whispered to me and turned to the Guards of the Order. Leonguart frowned, though it was clear his anger was directed at someone other than the Princess. I smirked, stepping back from the throne. Mistress opened the door behind the curtain and I nodded before passing through. She would no longer need my assistance, there was no need to be there. I pulled a pocket watch from my jacket and clicked the lid open. I had an over the shoulder view of the court. Should she require assistance, Mistress remained close. She was most likely the only one I could trust anymore. The Court was uickly growing into a countless number of powerless factions. Powerless because they alone, had no ability to enact what they wanted, and no one would ever get tem to budge on their 'platforms'. I walked quietly down the hallway, flipping a coin as I went. The habit had been picked up from a gambler I haunted when I was a Monster. Ah, his dreams had always been so delightful. I smirked as I went, only stopping when I spied a cracked door. There were two voices on the other side. Well now, I wouldn't have been doing my job if I didn't stop and just listen in... for the Family of course.

"I don't trust him." This voice was male. Deep and utterly sad. Most likely one of the Priests. Those were perhaps the Monsters I feared the most. Theirs was the job to clean up after the deaths. It is said when a Dreamer dies in their sleep, their soul is stuck forever in the Murky Sea between the Nightmare Realm and the Dreamscape. I knew this to be true, but that is a story for another day, yes? These Monsters took over after the Dreamer had passed on, to judge the soul in question. If you're asking if they act as gods, you're clearly mistaken. However they do judge whether the soul will be able to serve in the world.

"A monster is never to be trusted. Even after entering the fold as a Watcher." This voice was female. This voice had my interest. It was soft, sweet almost, if there wasn't such a venomous seed behind it. I wondered who I had enraged this time, and what my crimes were. For surely they were reproachable...

From the Eyes of a Watcher

Her scream was the most beautiful sound in the Nightmare Realm. It signaled her return. The delicately boned girl on the bed, shot up, clutching her chest as she let out a scream that was rivaled by only murder victims. She was at her most magnificent then. Illia screamed as her consciousness flooded into her body here, from the realm known to her as Reality. To us, it was a foreign place, full of the harshness that humanity is capable of... a land of so much potential to live out these nightmares we inflict on the mortals. I smile a vicious, toothy smile, settling down in the arm chair and pouring her a cup of tea.

“Good evening Princess.” I said softly and her eyes darted across the room to where I sat. The emerald orbs focused on me and her shaky hand moved from her chest to her head, wiping the cold sweat from her brow.

“That doesn't get any easier...” She said softly, her voice trembling as she ran her hands over her face, realizing where she was. I simply sat in the corner, watching. The frailty of the human mind never ceased to amaze me. It took the trauma of the transition with such terrifying elegance, yet every time, the young girl remained terrified of the portals. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbing her silk dressing gown and tying it loosely around her waist. Her face was alabaster white, framed with long chocolate brown curls, leaving the girl a slave to her beauty. She looked so much like her father some mornings.

“Here. Have some tea and relax. We have some time before the meetings begin for the day.” I pushed a tea cup across the small table to her. She nodded and picked up the cup, taking a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fumes of the tea. Her requirements were simple, unlike her fathers. He however, now resided solely in that foreign land beyond the veil. She frowned, catching my eyes drifting over towards the window.

“What troubles you, Watcher?” her voice was soft and sweet, like that of a concerned child. It was something she would have to shed in the coming months. Her place was very nearly as secure as her fathers was, albeit the dissent within the upper class and the nobility was a bit disconcerting. I forced a smile and turned back to her shaking my head.

“I can no longer see the King.” Her eyes cast downward as she nodded. The sadness in her demeanor was incredibly alluring, and it took everything in my power not to try to feed off of the moment. I used to be a Monster, the King's personal guard. Now however, I seem to have been demoted. Now I watch. I watch the links between the worlds for the Family. I watch the Princess. I snarled slightly thinking about the switch. Enough however about me. My place has been defined. This is a story about my lovely little charge. She sits watching my movements. I don't need eyes to see that body language. Her fear and unsure nature only betrayed her near me. She was strong and the face of the empire that she needed to be. The poor, poor little princess. She's been raised to take this position and yet somehow she's managed to foul it up. Her only job was to take the court and maintain the peace until the time of war was upon us. Here she sat, naïve to the real purpose of her presence. Poor little girl. Poor delusional little girl.

Her hand moved from her tea mug to my hand. I recoiled in shock and stood, going to the window. Her hand was cold, like one would expect from someone first entering the realm. It wasn't the temperature that shocked me however, it was the gesture itself. Her mother's compassion would do her no good here.

A knock on the door signaled the start of the day, thankfully. I walked to the door, opening a crack and nodding to the guard. The roach seemed to nod back and closed the door.

"Explain to me why again, the Roaches must guard my door?" A shudder went through her voice. I let a grin slide across my mouth and a small chuckle escaped. It turned into a laugh that sounded far more maniacal than I had intended. I coughed and chuckled again.

"Because they're the best stealth agents we have in the palace. You wouldn't even notice them if it weren't for the knock on the door." My smile didn't reassure her, as she stood and made her way across the room. The closet stood before her as she contemplated what to wear for the day. For some reason, this was the decision that took the longest in the day. She frowned, picking up a black veiled hat and placed it on the side of her head, pinning it into place, carefully. The rest of the ensemble would follow. A pair of black military style boots, some sort of skirt, and a jacket to hide all of the various weaponry she carried around with her. Even in her own palace, she claimed not to feel safe. To be fair, would you feel safe, knowing that half of the nobility was out to kill you? See?

"I'm ready." She nodded looking in the mirror judging as to whether or not everything was hidden properly. She picked up one last sword that lay by her bed. It was largely ceremonial, but the gesture was still appreciated. Handing me the hilt, she unsheathed the sword and ran her finger delicately over the blade, her blood trickling down the blade. I grinned. So it should continue.

A Slave's Tale

I often wonder how things could be different. Not in the 'Well what if I took the road less traveled' sort of way. I more mean that I wonder what would have happened if Earth hadn't been demolished in 2042. Ok not entirely demolished. Damn close though. My personal fate was sealed long before I was even a glint in my fathers eye. I was born a slave on a planet far from the old world. It's not so bad really. Except in the winter. Skimpy outfits and the harsh winds don't mix well. I'm one of the luckier ones. I don't belong to the royalty. I shudder at the thought honestly. They treat their slaves, like, well, animals. My family is more lenient than that. I've been permitted the chance to learn to read and write. I'm incredibly grateful. Writing is such a release. It also offers me the chance to entertain the wife and husband. They like my stories. They said no Alterian has half the imagination I do. It makes me smile. I'm usually given the freedom to go for a unsupervised walk if my performance or writings are particularly good. Now with the two suns high in the summer, it's a treat to go out on a muggy night.

“Sali?” A soft voice peeks around the corner of my doorway. It's their youngest daughter, Terchia. She's probably the most captive of all of the audiences I could ever ask for.

“Terchia, you should be asleep...” I smile and get up, walking over to pick her up. Her four arms extend up at me, though she's not smiling back. “What's wrong sweetheart?”

“There's noise upstairs.” She said and clung to me, shaking. My eyes fluttered in bewilderment. I heard nothing. I stroked her hair and shifted her onto my hip, assuring her nothing was wrong. Her hands went to cover her ears and I looked around trying to figure out exactly what was happening. Nothing was going on. The house was silent. A guard stood by the door, leading outside.

“Excuse me...” I said keeping my head low as I approached. No response. Not wholly unusual. I looked to Terchia and then finally up to the guard. His eyes were rolled back in his head, blood pouring out his ears. I gasped and covered the girls eyes, taking a step back.

“Please...” Terchia was crying. I nodded and held her head close to my chest, taking a couple steps backwards and running back towards my room. I closed the door behind me and placed the girl down on my bed. The noise didn't seem to bother her as much down here. I knelt down in front of the girl searching her eyes for something, anything that could tell me what was going on. All I could see was fear however. Fear of what? This noise; whatever it was. Her hands moved from her ears after a moment and she looked around the room, seeming to calm down. “It stopped...” She relaxed a bit and pushed herself forward into my lap, off of the bed. Whatever it was, I didn't trust leaving her alone for the night.

“Why don't we have a sleepover tonight?” It wasn't the first time she had stayed with me, but quite honestly, if the guards were any indication of life elsewhere in the palace, I wanted nothing of the outside world for poor little Terchia.

“Ohh! Can we? Will Mommy be upset?”

“Nope, I asked her earlier if it would be ok.” I lied but I knew it would make her feel better and actually let her sleep. I just hoped her parents would be alive so they could be angry in the morning.

“Wow... you're smart. You think ahead a lot.” She grinned and hopped back into my bed, diving under the covers. “Can you tell me a story?” I couldn't help but smile at the request. It was a sign she was relaxed and I couldn't ask for anything more in the moment.

“Of course. Do you want me to tell you about where I'm from?”

“Yeah! Tell me about Earth!”

“Ok... Once upon a time...”

[to be continued]

Monday's Writing Prompt and a Query

Welp, It's Tuesday. Needless to say, yesterdays post didn't get up there when it was supposed to, so let's get right down to it.

Weekly Writing Prompt

Imagine your character has gone his/her/it's entire life in a city or other such settlement, where the expansive aspects of nature (such as a forest, an actual open field, or long beach front removed from the world) hasn't touched their lives. Take them from their familiar settlement and bring them out into the forest. How does your character react? Is there a feeling of relief, anxiety, or perhaps repulsion? Do they regain the sense of wonder that they once had as children? Do you they become annoyed with the lack of amenities and the bugs?

What you do with your character is up to you, the exercise is meant to explore something that is truly unknown to your character but familiar to you. Take a second look at the familiar and see something you didn't before.

Query to My Readers

The idea of starting a continuous series of flash fiction peices is not a new one, in fact one that my close friend, Kit over at Goggles and Lace, specifically referring to her Letters from Blackford Hill series. After tossing around the idea with her, to make sure I wasn't stepping on her toes, I began thinking that part of my activity for Camp NaNo will be doing some vignettes from my current project which I'm temporarily reffering to as the Nightmare Realm. Would you be interested in seeing those character vignettes? If not, what do you want to see?

So post your comments below!

Namaste,
Jessi