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  1. - Top - End - #241
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    CurlyKitGirl's Avatar

    Join Date
    Apr 2007
    Location
    The Black Desert
    Gender
    Intersex

    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    @Phoe: Technically I've been learning French since I was sevenish, but only really started properly in Y10, so about three 'professional' years based on my 'basic' years.
    Thanks for the compliment, I'm glad the French works. Now oddly enough, I actually had deja vu during this because I remember a few months ago I had a dream where I was looking up the French for 'ethereal beauty' before typing it into the GitP post thingy. 'Twas fated. Besides, French does has a smooth, romantic feel if you use the right phrases.

    @all: I switched roles. All the characters for now will operate at roughly 90 - 180 degrees away from the norm.

    @rand specifically: I'd already decided to do a serial about a minute after finishing the story because I now know exactly how to end this little story. However, the story is nameless, these are just chapter titles.
    Maybe people can suggest titles for the piece and get rewarded with a wee cameo or something.

    @'zira: nice and bitter. Abcesses annoying you that much?

    I'm on a creative roll. Three (?) stories in less than seven hours and all quite good and definitely varied. One romantic Letter, a songfic and an adventure story with possibly romance later.
    Oooh, which reminds me! *runs off to PM someone*

    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by V'icternus View Post
    Why is it that you now scare me more than the possibility of nuclear war?
    Quote Originally Posted by Dr. Bath View Post
    To compare [Curly] to the beauty of the changing seasons or timeless stars would be an understatement.
    Quote Originally Posted by Coidzor View Post
    But Koorly is the sweetest crime.

    Squid bones are lies.
    Bathatar!

  2. - Top - End - #242
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Dallas-Dakota's Avatar

    Join Date
    May 2007

    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by Aziraphale View Post
    For now - A letter (Which may not be as good as Curly's, but I'll try)

    Spoiler
    Show

    Listen. It's not that I wanted to do this. I tought it could work, I really, really did.
    But it couldn't happen between us. I'm sorry, okay? Well, no.
    Not really. Better end this now, than suffer unduly later on. You'll understand.
    This was for your own good, you understand? Yours, as well as mine.
    I can't go through that again, all right? I can't.
    It's too soon.
    I don't want this to be like it was with Kneenibble.

    P.S - I took back my books. You can keep whatever I've left. Some of it was yours anyway.

    Unapolagetically, Zira.
    That was Zira/Curly I assume?
    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by RabbitHoleLost View Post
    DD: .... DEM HIPS.
    Quote Originally Posted by faerwain View Post
    Why do I have the feeling that you actually really grind Smurfs to make your ice cream?
    Quote Originally Posted by banjo1985 View Post
    My wedding underwear has a picture of Dallas Dakota's face on them.
    Ceikatar!

  3. - Top - End - #243
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Lyesmith's Avatar

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    Dec 2006
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    Tackleford
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Nah, abcess is painless. Just annoying. And i fancied writing something more in line with the story. Poor bitter librarian.

    Another letter!
    Spoiler
    Show
    You'll never read this, probably. I'll be so close to giving it to you, maybe leave it somewhere you'll find it.

    But ten minutes will pass and i'll fret, and take it back.
    I'm in love with you. We joke and we laugh, sure. But I still love you. You know it, too, to a certan extent. You were flattered, and... And that made it worse, somehow. I doubt the feeling will become mutual.

    Maybe one day. But i doubt it. I'm smitten, and you're not. You like me as a freind. I'm happy enough for that, I am. Don't think i'm ungrateful.

    None of that will change the fact I imagine your body next to mine, and it comforts me. I worry and fret, but i've passed that off as "Just me being irrational - I do it about everyone". I felt so guilty, saying that. I couldn't give a toss about most people. But I worry about you, and I care about you.

    It hurts.
    I wish I knew how to quit you.
    And each day, I hear more about this other person. You ask me for advice! Me! It's flattering, but I'm clueless. I still help, though. Even though it hurts.

    I'm a fool for love.
    Everything I say is 100% TRUTH*
    *may contain traces of lie

    Loki avatar by Dr.Bath.
    (I totally ship him and Curly. But shhh, it's a secret.)
    Formerly known as Aziraphale.

  4. - Top - End - #244
    Ogre in the Playground
    Join Date
    Dec 2007
    Location
    Canada
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Hey, no hard feelings, DD, either way. Sorry if I sounded bitchy, it wasn't my intent at all.

    I've tried to be quite meticulous about my editing in this story, because it strikes me that Randman is what they call a Sharp Cookie for details. He's well-cast in this, it seems.

    China Gold
    By Kneenibble

    Chapter 3: Truth for Sale
    Including so far, in order of mention:
    randman22222
    Kneenibble
    happyturtle
    Kaelaroth
    FF fanboy
    dallas-dakota

    and now, Ethrael

    Spoiler
    Show


    The streets are empty, and the bluish presage of dawn lays delicately on the grimy cement. Randman sniffs up the heavy humid air. The morning is neither fresh nor crisp and it turns inside his empty stomach like gooey undercooked bread.

    The fact of death sits heavy on his mind. It is not grief, exactly: an indifferent weight unembodied by concept. He loosens his necktie and undoes the top two buttons of his shirt and carries his hat in his hand. The few blocks to the Fort Garry disappear silently behind his shoes.

    It’s a turn-of-the-century hotel, ornate masonry with green copper roofs peaked like a Victorian mansion: the oldest and one of the biggest in the city. Nibs hadn’t been lying when he said it was good taste. Uniformed valets open the polished brass doors for Randman and the air-conditioning washes over him sweetly.

    Randman crosses the old-fashioned carpet in the lobby, which is rich with greenery and furnishings if mostly empty of people, to the lavatories. He runs the tap until the water turns cold then gulps down mouthfuls from his hands and splashes it on his face and hair. He turns off the tap and stares in the mirror. His face is slightly greenish; his eyes are slightly reddish; there is a glitter of yellow fuzz on his cheeks and chin. It is not a pretty picture. He washes his face again and drinks more water and then dries himself with a plush white towel from a basket beside the sink. It’s an improvement.

    He stands with his hands on the edge of the sink, glaring at his reflection. The very last of the rye has gone and left a pricking sharp awareness behind. One of the light fixtures above an adjacent sink flickers and starts to hum stridently. Randman flips his investigator’s ID out of his coat and inspects it. Randman Deuce, Private Investigator it says, in a font like on a list of characters at the beginning of a script. For a moment it looks like it belongs to somebody else, or perhaps to the coat. He replaces it in its inner pocket and looks up at a haggard stranger above the sink. Then again, everybody looks like **** in public washrooms. It’s the fluorescent lights.

    The incandescent light of the lobby, most of it from a massive crystal chandelier, feels gentler, mixed with the gathering gold of dawn. Randman looks across to the front desk, where polished clerks in smart uniforms try to look busy. Nearby a bellhop passes him in the same sort of outfit with an empty luggage cart, moving without much hurry.

    “Excuse me,” Randman calls, approaching him, one hand in a pocket. The bellhop – a young guy with an easy-to-like face and dark, friendly eyes – stops and leans against the brass rails of the luggage cart, crossing his arms and lifting his eyebrows. There’s a toothpick sticking out between his lips, which he is chewing slowly.

    “How ya doin’ there –“ he looks at the embossed nametag “—Ethrael? Nice pl –“

    “It’s pronounced Ethrael, actually, sir,” says the bellhop helpfully.

    “What is that, French?”

    The bellhop smiles very pleasantly. “No, it’s Enochian. I’m an angel.”

    Randman smiles himself, breathes a sibilant laugh, and eyes the tailored uniform from cap to shoes and back. “Yes, I can believe that.”

    “What can I help you with, sir?” says the bellhop.

    Randman gives the brim of his hat a tug, finding himself unable to stop smiling. “I’m looking for someone,” he says, and a bubble of laughter rises from inside him and bursts. Ethrael watches him patiently.

    “I’m looking for a friend of mine. She is staying in this hotel, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with her and I don’t know what room she’s staying in. I need to leave her a message to call me.” He puts both hands in his pockets. “Soon.”

    “Who’s your friend, sir?” the bellhop asks.

    “Miss Caelo Ruto,” Randman says, and at the mention of the name, Ethrael touches his cheek with three fingertips together as it turns pink very quickly. Aside from this gesture, he offers no reaction. “You know her? If you’ve seen her, you’d know her. Fancy Chinese silks, high heels, black curls, eyes a man could kill for – a real lady.”

    Ethrael lowers his hand and refolds his arms, looking Randman in the eye without saying a word. Randman lifts his eyebrows. The silence stretches until the message gets across. He fishes a ten dollar bill out of his coat and pushes it down neatly into the front pocket of the bellhop’s uniform, and then puts a cigarette in his mouth.

    “Miss Ruto is in room 448, sir, but you sure didn’t hear it from me.” As Randman starts to search his various pockets for his cigarette lighter, the bellhop raises his clenched fist into the air between them. “Ah ah, allow me, sir.” He opens his hand and a small tongue of fire flickers in the centre of his palm.

    Randman hesitates only a moment before sticking the end of his cigarette into it and takes a drag, deliberately nonplussed. “Nice trick. How do you manage that?”

    “No tricks, sir,” Ethrael replies, smiling helpfully, and quickly closes and opens his fist again. This time a tiny wisp of smoke drifts up from his palm, flameless. He crosses his arms.

    Randman blinks, chuckles, and bows his head. “Have it your way. Hey, good not to have met you, Ethrael.”

    Ethrael says, “You too, sir,” and pushes his luggage cart towards the service elevators. Randman approaches the front desk and leaves a message for Miss Caelo Ruto to call Mr. Randman Deuce, and his cellphone number – making no mention of rooms. The clerk takes the message neutrally, consults a computer, and then promises its delivery. Randman leaves his cigarette in the front desk ashtray and catches a cab back to his apartment. The sun is up by the time he locks the door and draws the flimsy drapes. In the kitchen, he considers the mickey of rye and the print-smeared tumbler, but heads directly for bed instead.

    He sleeps until noon, showers in ice-cold water, shaves, and dresses in the same brown suit. He has a good meal and walks down to his office. The old floors creak as he enters, and Turtle is at the desk with her laptop open, cheerful and smelling of her implacable perfume.

    “Hello, hello! How did things work out last night with the fanboy, Mr. Deuce? Nibs hasn’t been in today.”

    Randman takes off his hat.

    Turtle starts to cry by the time Randman finishes the story and her impeccably applied mascara stains her eyelids. “It was quick and painless, at least,” he says, deadpan. “Right in the heart. Deep. Ah, don’t cry, Turtle. At least he’s getting some rest.”

    “You be careful, Randman. You be careful. You drop the case if you have to. You think the fanboy did it, then? If there’s any danger to you, you drop the case, Randman Deuce.” She takes a long sniff and wipes her eyes with tissue.

    “We need the money, Turtle,” he returns, deadpan. “We need the money. And we can’t afford to go dropping a case at the first sign of danger, either. Are there any messages?”

    “No,” she says, stilling herself with a deep breath. “None.”

    Randman’s cellphone goes off. He goes into the office and shuts the door as the clacking of keys starts up from behind him. He flips the phone open and answers it. The floor creaks as he paces from desk to desk.

    “Mr. Deuce?” says a smooth, elegant voice.

    “Good afternoon, Miss Ruto. Did you meet up with my partner last night?”

    The voice offers answer without hesitation. “Yes, of course. I waited in the lobby after dark like he said. Oh, the fanboy was there, Mr. Deuce! He was there watching, from the corner of the lobby! I nodded him out to your partner like he said, secretly, and then went straight up to my room and locked the door. I was terrified. But I got your message, Mr. Deuce, only just now. Can you give me some good news? Am I safe now, Mr. Deuce?”

    Randman clears his throat, and answers, deadpan. “My partner is dead, Miss Ruto.”

    There is a very long silence over the phone. They hear each other breathing. Randman finally breaks it. His voice comes out harder than he intends. “How soon can you get down to my office, Miss Ruto?”

    Caelo answers softly and distant. “I’ll take a cab right away. Right away.”

    Randman snaps the phone shut and drops it in his coat pocket, then hangs it up with his hat on the coat tree and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He walks creakingly to the window with its grimy blinds flipped open and twists them shut. Ash and a cigarette butt are mashed against the floor nearby from the day before. He kicks the butt into the corner and sits at his desk. He splashes a little rye into his scratched-up juice glass and throws it back, then pours another. He stares at it in the half-darkness without drinking. The gold-coloured poison glows in the shadowless light.

    He puts the glass down with a hard tap, stands, and crosses the room again to Nibs’ desk. His coffee cup has a viscous black puddle in the bottom, only a mouthful. It tastes bitter and oily. The drawn blinds dull the street noise. He hears Turtle’s keyboard faintly outside. He returns to his own desk, sits, leans back, and starts to smoke.

    In thirty-five minutes, Turtle knocks. Her perfume fills up the room. Her cheer is only slightly dampened but she avoids Randman’s eye. Caelo Ruto sweeps in past her in stilettos, his curls artfully arranged, his liquor-brown eyes large and wet. Turtle closes the door behind him, saying nothing.

    They face each other in the gloom. “Mr. Deuce,” he says with a quiet respect for the office’s mourning atmosphere, “I am sincerely sorry for your partner. He seemed like a good man.” His eyebrows slant towards his ears and he tilts his head, clutching his handbag against his diaphragm which had begun to heave. He stays by the office door.

    “Then you didn’t know him very well,” Randman says very calmly, and motions to the chair near his desk. “Sit and talk, Miss Ruto. Nibs was found in a pool of blood with a shuriken buried in his heart.” He watches Caelo’s reactions very closely, who sits and listens, eyes on the edge of overflowing. “Now save your condolences, Nibs and I both accepted certain risks when we got into this profession. I want to know about that shuriken. What about the fanboy? Would he use a weapon like that?”

    “Yes,” Caelo answers, breathing deeply, and drying his eyes with a lacy handkerchief. They remain dry. His nails are painted incarnadine. He looks at his handbag in his lap. “Most certainly he would. That was one of the reasons I understood he was in Beijing. I’m sorry, Mr. Deuce: when I said he was dangerous, I should have been more specific. I strongly believe he was a part of the Hu Lang underworld working and training as a – well, a –“

    “Right,” says Randman. “You consort with that sort often, Miss Ruto?”

    “I didn’t know at first. I only found out later. Why do you think I tried to break things off?” Outside on the street, slightly muffled by the blinds, there is a screech and a series of car horns honking. Both Randman and Caelo lift their heads, waiting for a crunch.

    Nothing. Somebody shouts. Then silence.

    When Randman turns his head back to Caelo, a delicate, manicured hand is extending a colourful bill with a couple of zeroes on it towards him, smiling with the innocence of a lamb.

    “Good,” Randman says, taking the bill and putting it in his coat. “You could have told us more in the first place, although let’s say you paid us enough not to ask too many questions. But the game has changed a little now, Miss Ruto. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that’s actually your name but it’s time for you to fill in some details or I’m turning it over to the police. What’s your real business with the fanboy? What were you doing in China?”

    Caelo draws another deep breath, squares his slender shoulders and meets Randman’s blue eyes directly. “Alright. You have a right to ask now. I was in Beijing on business as well as pleasure. Sometimes I have trouble keeping the two separate, you see.” He puts one of his polished hands on the desk and leans forwards emphatically. His tastefully painted lips curve. “I am an entrepreneuse. I deal in artefacts and antiques, mostly, especially in Asia. Some of my business is done over the internet now, but most of it must still be conducted in person. China is a gold mine right now. The iron curtain is full of holes and they’ll lift it for anybody who can tuck money in the right pockets. And they’re very busy with the Olympics right now.”

    “Are you implying some kind of illegal –“

    “Illegal?” Caelo steamrolls over Randman with a slightly frenzied passion. “The law is a different creature altogether in China, Mr. Deuce. Altogether different! I couldn’t explain it to you exactly. Resourcefulness legally overrides the laws in China. Knowledge, connections – money. Power. Power is the law in China, and serves those who can wield it.” He leans back and daintily fixes his black curls, dropping his voice. “The fanboy and I met for business – although I swear I didn’t know about his Hu Lang connections until after! – but stuck together afterwards. For pleasure.” He tilts his head, and again, smiles. “Can you blame a lady for it?”

    Randman averts his eyes from the smile, which makes him slightly giddy. He looks at the slug of rye, still sitting undrunk nearby on his desk. “What kind of business?”

    “He was helping me with a transaction. I was tracking down a very valuable Chinese artefact for a client. An ancient bottle made from emerald jade, still sealed. I don’t know what it was supposed to contain. Once I procured it, and got it somewhere safe, is when the fanboy turned on me.” Caelo’s eyes fall back to his handbag, and the storm of his passion leaves him. He looks spent. "The rest is all true. Omissions, not lies."

    For several minutes, they sit listening only to the faint click of keys from the waiting room. Randman’s eyebrows crinkle up in thought, damned glad he hadn’t taken the second slug. He drops his latest cigarette into the glass with a hiss.

    Without looking up, Caelo adds at a near whisper, “Please take care of me, Mr. Deuce.”

    Randman gets up and goes into the waiting room, closing the door. Turtle looks up at him, and her cheerful smile drops off instantly into a startled, worried expression as she sees his face.

    “I need you to look after Caelo tonight, Turtle,” Randman says. “She can’t go back to her hotel just yet. She needs to spend the night with you. Get her out of here in a minute and take a cab home. Don’t be seen. Call me here on the land line when you’re safe.”

    Turtle only nods sincerely, and shuts her laptop. “Thanks, Turtle. You’re a doll.”

    Caelo stands, smoothing his exquisite silk gown over his waist, as Randman tells him the plan. He breathes a deep sigh into the bottom of his ribs and smiles. His liquor-brown eyes soften with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Deuce. Really. Thank you so very much. Please be careful.” Randman’s nose fills deliciously with jasmine as Caelo steps close to him. Reaching up even in his stilettos, he presses a tender kiss on the corner of Randman’s smoothly shaven cheek, touches his shoulder, silently repeats the thanks with his eyes, and goes out into the waiting room.

    Randman touches his cheek with three fingertips together, which flushes slightly pink. He listens for the waiting room door to click shut and then creaks over to the window. He opens the blinds and stands, staring out the old window at nothing, his mind spinning.



    There's been so many ships that I can't respond specifically to all of them, but there's some really fun work happening in this thread which pleases me greatly. I loved your Tears, Curly, and Aziraphale, it's nice to see something more raw and heartfelt from you.

  5. - Top - End - #245
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    rubakhin's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2007
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    Not Canada.
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    I loved the French.
    Click here for whining.

    Click here for kitten.

    avatar by Doihaveaname?

  6. - Top - End - #246
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    alexeduardo's Avatar

    Join Date
    Jun 2008
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    way up here in México

    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Okay, here's my first Ship

    The Death of The Crimson Mage

    Starring
    MasatoHyuga
    and
    Thanatos

    Spoiler
    Show
    It was a dark and stormy night. As it had been for a thousand years now.
    Everyone knew why, it was because the earth was still mourning Masato.

    Masato had been a hero of the Wizard Revolution. He had taken the command of the Revolutionary Armies after Merlin was captured and oh so brutally executed, and for that, everyone admired him.
    It hadn't been easy, taking the first post as general of The Armies, especially when you consider the Wizards were outnumbered 4 to 1 on every battlefield.
    But Masato son of Hyuga had done it, and he had been bave enough to challenge his elders and call for the Psion College's help. Now, you must remember than back then psionics were shunned and feared as demons. It was very bold of Masato to even adress them in a non-confidential manner.

    In the end, it proved to be a very smart choice. The dwarven armies had been trained for years in deflecting and countering magic attacks, but they had never expected a Psion betrayal. The Dwarven capital of Moria fell within the week.
    After that, the continent fell into chaos. As many revolutionaries, Masato had not planned ahead of victory. Some sources even say he never expected one. And when the time finally came to make a new goverment, he left the desicion to his wizard elders.
    This was not done out of foolishness or cowardice, it was a rather thought-out manouver to convince the Loyalist wizards that he wasn't entirely out of touch with his origins.

    But, as history shows us, it proved to be a mistake. The elders did not care for fairness and order, they only joined the revolution to have a chance to govern the world. And they now had it.
    The first order thay gave was to kill all the psionics. Most wizards questioned and even refused to carry out the order, something that filled the elders with frustration. In their anger, they captured seven Young Women and held them hostage. The ransom: Thanthos' head.

    Now, history books will tell you thanthos was a villian. That is because it is wizards who write hose books. But I'm no wizard, so I can tell you with total security that Thanathos was a hero.
    And a Hero of The Revolution at that.
    He had fought bravely by Masato's side, he had been the very first important psionic figure to fully accept the Wizards' proposal of an alliance. He had been head of Covert Operations for the whole week the Psions played a part on the revolution, and his actions had been critical to the Wizard/Psion victory.
    Like that time he had risked everything to infiltrate The Dark Fort and defeat Lord Dambdun. Or that heroic stunt he pulled by literally jumping from one dirigible to the other, which didn't accomplish much on its own but bettered the troops' morale considerably.
    The Wizards have made sure his heroics be silenced and cutted off the history books, but he is a hero. I know it.

    Anyway, the thing is, when Thanathos heard of the Hostage Situation he couldn't help but embark on a journey to save the Women. He infiltrated the castle at night and fought heroically (as always) against insurmountable odds. The elders, upon hearing of this, sent a bat to alert Masato that the palae was under attack. They didn't tell him by whom.

    Masato got on his Hummingbird and flew to the palace as fast as he could. When he arrived he made his way to the elders' chambers. and then he saw it: Thanatos, with a sword on his hand, standing next to the chopped bodies of the elders. Masato did not understand it, Thanatos was his friend.
    But Thanatos did not see a friend on that doorway, he saw a rat that had betrayed him and the whole psionic suborder. He saw the Wizard ideology incarnate. He saw Arcane magic with a sword, and wasn't about to fall by it.

    So they engaged in a duel. Not only of magic but of swords and minds.
    An epic battle that played out all across the Palace. Many psions and wizards joined in and it turned into a true bloodshed.
    to be continued....


    PEACH....now!
    Spoiler
    Show
    A-44 A.K.A. The Angel of Retribution A.K.A. The Angel of Revenge A.K.A Angel of Death


  7. - Top - End - #247
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    alexeduardo's Avatar

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    way up here in México

    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    The Death of The Crimson Mage, part 2

    Starring
    MasatoHyuga
    and
    Thanatos

    Spoiler
    Show
    As the battle raged on, Thantos burned flags high in the sky.
    This alerted civilians of the danger, and gave them time to run.ç
    This too was silenced by the Wizards.

    The battle lasted for a complete day, until both sides' soldiers were too tired to fight. They both retreated to their respective sides of town, scarred by the deaths they had seen that night, and never to forgive again.

    to be continued...
    Spoiler
    Show
    A-44 A.K.A. The Angel of Retribution A.K.A. The Angel of Revenge A.K.A Angel of Death


  8. - Top - End - #248
    Titan in the Playground
     
    The Rose Dragon's Avatar

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    Jan 2008

    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    Merci beaucoup mes amis. J'ai pensé c'était bien. Et maintenant:

    The Rose Dragon/Mauve "Red" Shirt:

    The Lady in Red
    Spoiler
    Show

    We were just work colleagues; working in the same room with half a score of people, pecking forever away at the keyboards and shuffling the mountainous heaps of paper that threatened our workstations. And when the time for the company's ball came around you walked in.
    I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
    I've never seen you shine so bright
    I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance

    I must confess that hot jealousy blossomed in my heart. You were, and still are, my companion. My Mauve. Those other grasping men wanted you for your uncommon and strong beauty; not you, ignoring the woman I know. Your dry humour, your irrational fear of escalators and the labyrinthine intricacies that make you my Venus. I walked up to you, held out my hand, and asked you if you wanted to dance. And that smile you gave me was perfect. Slightly crooked and I could see you heart in it. Is it wrong that I hoped you came to this ball just for me?
    I have never seen that dress you're wearing
    Or the highlights in your head that catch your eyes I have been blind
    The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
    There's nobody here, it's just you and me, It's where I wanna be
    But I hardly know this beauty by my side

    I've never seen your beauty until tonight, and for that I apologise. The lights, dimmed now, catch the glossy ravens' iridescence in your hair, I swear, it's like a rainbow shimmering under these lights. I have to resist stroking it. It must be silky soft. I've found another layer to you, my heart. Again you surprise me, just when I think I know you better than anyone you show me another secret.
    I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
    And when you turned to me and smiled, It took my breath away
    I have never had such a feeling
    Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I do tonight

    I've always loved you, but not until this blessed night. You shine out like the morning star, constant and beautiful. I have been blind. As the dance ended you smiled at me again. And this one showed even more love than the last, and my heart swelled with so much love I felt like it'd overflow.
    The lady in red
    My lady in red (I love you.)


    Sorry it took so long Rose. Hope it satisfies you though.
    You know how you can never seem to find something when you're looking for it?

    I couldn't find it before the PM.

    It's sweet.
    I use black for sarcasm.


    Call me Rose, or The Rose Dragon. Rose Dragon is someone else entirely.

    If you need me for something, please PM me about it. I am having difficulty keeping track of all my obligations.

  9. - Top - End - #249
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kaelaroth's Avatar

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    Jul 2007
    Location
    The Middle of September

    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera
    Part Five: The Talent Show
    See Earlier Part's here
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    Mr. Morgernstern pulled his large, priapic stomach out over his belt, and sighed a sigh of relief, releif washing over him, him being thankful, thankful that at least one thing was over for now, for now, however, he had more to deal with. Grumbling, he strode (more of a waddle really, not that he'd admit it) into the main hall, his shoes squeaking loudly on the lacquered panelled flooring, where a thousand or more students, energetic little things, danced, and sung, and spoke, hopeful, eager, waiting. For him. Smiling, he shouted, dramatically (for, really, that's what he was), Let the Gaaames BEGIN! As the hush of students fell, falling from above was the gaze of Zira, who smirked, and pressed a button, the curtains on stage opening to reveal the first act.

    The first memorable act was a singer, Raistlin was his name. He had dark hair, which flowed over one eye, unintentionally perhaps. His voice was like chocolate, and it flowed across the halls, in sticky clumps of ecstasy, making Mr. Morgerstern moans with delight.

    Another was Kneenibble, a delicate lad from the drama studio. He'd been Gaius in the last play, and he read a similar speech. Challenging, but not controversial. Well-spoken, but not exceptional. His voice was like an choirboy's, and it sang out across the room, in high, chidlike notes, causing Mr. Morgernstern to smile with a patronising sneer.

    Finally, came a blond boy, who read a speech, his voice courageous, like a shining light, which lit the hall with his glow. The very words made Mr. Morgernstern's stomach rumble, and he looked, briefly, up at the misty figure of Zira, shadowed in the technical box above.

    Veeery Well Done, Everyone! The Prize will be awarded in assembly. Mr. Morgernstern boomed, before getting up, stuffing a free eclair into his mouth, as he strode out, riddling the floor with heavy booms, as out he strode.


    And, dear, dear readers (should any of you actually exist), it's up to you. Whichever of those three you'd like to win will win. And star in the next Schoolyard Song. Will it be Raistlin, the already met Kneenibble, or our mysterious blond?
    Last edited by Kaelaroth; 2008-10-28 at 03:58 PM.
    Words, my weapons...
    Je veux aller sous votre peau.
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    Dihan-atar

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    Quote Originally Posted by Kneenibble View Post
    You rascally psychopath, you.
    Quote Originally Posted by Quincunx View Post
    On the phone, people talk back. And over. And aren't obliged to listen.
    Quote Originally Posted by Felixaar View Post
    Kael, awesome.
    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    I has been owned.
    Yup, Kael beat the Book Geek at her own game.
    Quote Originally Posted by Kneenibble View Post
    Don't tick off Kaelawrath. The dear fellow is above reproach.

  10. - Top - End - #250
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by Kaelaroth View Post
    And, dear, dear readers (should any of you actually exist), it's up to you. Whichever of those three you'd like to win will win. And star in the next Schoolyard Song. Will it be Raistlin, the already met Kneenibble, or our mysterious blond?
    I'd vote for myself, but I clearly suck (); and as much as "sticky clumps of ecstacy" tickles me, I throw in with the mystery blond boy.

  11. - Top - End - #251
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    My vote also goes to the blonde.

    I'd also like to say, since I haven't before, that school would have been a lot more fun if it was like your story, Kaela. Reading has been much fun.

  12. - Top - End - #252
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    The blond! The blond! The mystery is too seductive to choose otherwise.

    I liked the one with me in though. Highly amusing, although... I found it a tad unclear in parts as to who was thinking what. But that can be put down to my lack of brain-meats.

  13. - Top - End - #253
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Ooh! I vote Kneen.
    Because i know what happens to me in one of the others.
    *terror*
    Everything I say is 100% TRUTH*
    *may contain traces of lie

    Loki avatar by Dr.Bath.
    (I totally ship him and Curly. But shhh, it's a secret.)
    Formerly known as Aziraphale.

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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Mysterious blonde boy eh?


    Oh how I seriously hope you've been reading Remember...

    I'll vote the blonde.

  15. - Top - End - #255
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by Kneenibble View Post
    I'd vote for myself, but I clearly suck ()
    Ye will improve in later works. Schoolyard Song will start to tie itself into one big story, eventually.
    Words, my weapons...
    Je veux aller sous votre peau.
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    Quote Originally Posted by Kneenibble View Post
    You rascally psychopath, you.
    Quote Originally Posted by Quincunx View Post
    On the phone, people talk back. And over. And aren't obliged to listen.
    Quote Originally Posted by Felixaar View Post
    Kael, awesome.
    Quote Originally Posted by CurlyKitGirl View Post
    I has been owned.
    Yup, Kael beat the Book Geek at her own game.
    Quote Originally Posted by Kneenibble View Post
    Don't tick off Kaelawrath. The dear fellow is above reproach.

  16. - Top - End - #256
    Ettin in the Playground
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by Ethrael View Post
    Ok, after much ado, gender-bending and head-scratching, I present my quite pathetic attempt at a second fic. As most of you know, I'm a great X-men fan. Yep, I shipped playgrounders with the X-men. This is the prologue. Less touchy-feely than the sequels but it sets up the story.

    Escapees

    An Ethrael & Co. Production

    Prologue
    Starring:

    randman22222 as Cyclops/Randy Summers
    Kaelaroth as Marvel Girl/Kael Grey-Summers
    Calamity as Nightcrawler/Cal Wagner
    FF Fanboy as Shadowcat/Stefania "Fan" Pryde
    Haruki-kun as Archangel/Warkun Worthington
    Ethrael as Storm/Ethrael Munroe
    dallas-dakota as Beast/Dr. Dak McCoy
    Lykan as Wolverine/James "Lykan" Howlett

    Spoiler
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    Silence.

    Deafening, ringing, reverberating silence echoed throughout the cave. Insects, birds and animals all shunned it for its silence drove even the loneliest wolves insane. The lake was stiller than its frozen counterpart above. The trees wouldn’t sway in a hurricane. The waterfalls touched down softly, afraid of waking the sleeping nature.

    So much silence all round. Silence above. Silence in front. Silence behind. Silence.

    Silence was the only thing Cal could utter.

    Checking all round the entrance and the depths of the cave, he turned and-

    BAMF

    The purple smoke lingered for a few seconds in the air, then dissipated almost decisively, until only the memory of the rocks gave evidence to its existence.

    BAMF

    Cal placed Ethrael softly onto the ground, then turned to watch the wall of rock at the furthest part of the cave, waiting for the others to get through.

    It began to glow with a red aura, followed by a thin beam of bright red light. The light cut through the rock cleanly. It moved right a little, then straight down. It retraced its path and came down on the other side. Scuffling was heard on the other side and Cal’s eyes widened.

    “Schei-“

    A door-shaped, 5-foot thick chunk of rock flew out from the rock wall. Cal managed to duck just as it skimmed his head and flung himself on Ethrael.

    Kael walked out, and stood, surveying the scene, delicate, soft hands on perfectly shaped hips. “Cal?”

    “Mein Gott, Kael! Couldn’t you have been a bit more careful?!” he coughed, getting up from Ethrael’s body. “She’s incapacitated and you threw a rock at us!” Through the settling dust, Cal could see Randy walking through the door. His blond hair casually swept back even in this most dire of situations, he walked purposefully and yet carefully, unsure of any other insecurities in the cave system.

    “Nightcrawler, report!”
    “Vere’s Fan? Vy didn’t she just phase you through?”
    “She’s bringing the others now. Nightcrawler, what’s Storm’s status?”
    “Vat do you think? She still has come back from the panic attack.”
    Crap. Kael, detecting anything?”
    “No living beings for three miles. We seem to have outrun them-“

    She was interrupted by four bodies rising out of the ground. One, tall elegant, with enormous wings folded behind: Archangel; One stout, hulking body, blue even in the dark of the cave: Beast; One stooped, stout, overly built up body with claws already out: Wolverine; and in the middle, the shortest of them all. A delicate girl, barely over twenty, clasping the shoulders of her two neighbours desperately: Shadowcat. They stopped rising, and she began falling. Retracting his claws just in time, Lykan caught her as she dropped.

    “You made it. Good.” Kael said, her voice darker than ever now that the situation had become more ominous. “Storm’s still out.”
    “Damn.” growled Lykan. “I thought she was stronger than that.”
    “So did I, about her,” said Warkun, nodding towards Fan.
    “We have no time to chat,” announced Randy loudly, “We may have escaped the mansion safely, but we don’t know what else they’ve got. They got the whole support of the people and probably the government by now. We can’t rely on the Professor to change its mind. Getting to the sub-base is first priority, ok?”

    Cal was about to nod an affirmative when from all around, the great silence was smashed on the floor and trampled on a dozen times over. The air vibrated with their presence, the roar of humanities great weapons deafened the trees, rocks and water. Planes.

    “****”
    “Crap”
    “Damn”
    “****”
    “Oh, God”
    “Scheiße”

    Silence in the cave. Uproar in the skies.

    “We have to leave. Split up, whatever, we have to get out of here.”
    “How did they find us?”
    “There are a few possible ways. None that I thought they’d have access to.” answered Dak wisely, bending down to stand on all fours and looking up at the rocky roof, calculating, thinking, determining constantly.
    “Like what? We need to know what they could have had access to.”
    “Telepaths, for one. Advanced heat sensing or other tracking wouldn’t fit on planes capable of reaching these speeds…”
    “But I put up shields, so did the Professor.”
    “I know, which leads me to believe in the possibility of magic. Scrying possibly. I’m a scientist, not a wizard, my knowledge leaves me here.

    “I agree with Archangel, we have to leave. We’ll split up into pairs, traveling together would be too hard. The lake is the main obstacle, but there are ways round.”

    “I vill go vith Fan, we’ll go through the forest on the left.” said Cal, scuttling over to her lying body and starting to try and wake her.
    “Lykan and I should take the cliffs on the right, we’ll climb more easily. Agreed, Lykan?”
    Lykan growled, then mumbled as he made for the entrance after Dak McCoy “Wolverines weren’t made to climb but I guess it beats the forest…”

    Purple smoke once again filled the cave as Nightcrawler began to make it through the forest with Shadowcat. Once again, it dissipated. When it did, Warkun spoke up.“I’ll carry Ethrael, we’ll take the skies.”
    “That’s too dangerous, you’ll have to go over the lake.”
    “I won’t feel comfortable there, it’s too exposed. We’ll go into the cloud cover. Eth will wake up soon anyway.”

    “All right then, good luck.” Kael smiled sadly as she watched him pick up Storm and walk towards the entrance, bend, then kick off and soar upwards. She sighed, turned to her husband and offered him her arm. “Shall we?”
    “We shall.” He smiled weakly. Grasping her arm firmly he began walking towards the entrance to take on the lake.


    I know comic-wise this is all wrong as hardly any of these guys crossed over, but still.

    If anyone's interested to have a role in the next parts, PM me or post here.

    Comment away!
    Hehe, my first female role, and as one of the more dangterous superheroes as well. (Shdow Kat has some majopr potential if you go by the ultimates version of her powers.)

  17. - Top - End - #257
    Troll in the Playground
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by Kaelaroth View Post
    Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera
    Part Four: The Talent Show
    See Earlier Part's here
    Spoiler
    Show
    Mr. Morgernstern pulled his large, priapic stomach out over his belt, and sighed a sigh of relief, releif washing over him, him being thankful, thankful that at least one thing was over for now, for now, however, he had more to deal with. Grumbling, he strode (more of a waddle really, not that he'd admit it) into the main hall, his shoes squeaking loudly on the lacquered panelled flooring, where a thousand or more students, energetic little things, danced, and sung, and spoke, hopeful, eager, waiting. For him. Smiling, he shouted, dramatically (for, really, that's what he was), Let the Gaaames BEGIN! As the hush of students fell, falling from above was the gaze of Zira, who smirked, and pressed a button, the curtains on stage opening to reveal the first act.

    The first memorable act was a singer, Raistlin was his name. He had dark hair, which flowed over one eye, unintentionally perhaps. His voice was like chocolate, and it flowed across the halls, in sticky clumps of ecstasy, making Mr. Morgerstern moans with delight.

    Another was Kneenibble, a delicate lad from the drama studio. He'd been Gaius in the last play, and he read a similar speech. Challenging, but not controversial. Well-spoken, but not exceptional. His voice was like an choirboy's, and it sang out across the room, in high, chidlike notes, causing Mr. Morgernstern to smile with a patronising sneer.

    Finally, came a blond boy, who read a speech, his voice courageous, like a shining light, which lit the hall with his glow. The very words made Mr. Morgernstern's stomach rumble, and he looked, briefly, up at the misty figure of Zira, shadowed in the technical box above.

    Veeery Well Done, Everyone! The Prize will be awarded in assembly. Mr. Morgernstern boomed, before getting up, stuffing a free eclair into his mouth, as he strode out, riddling the floor with heavy booms, as out he strode.


    And, dear, dear readers (should any of you actually exist), it's up to you. Whichever of those three you'd like to win will win. And star in the next Schoolyard Song. Will it be Raistlin, the already met Kneenibble, or our mysterious blond?
    ...*Votes for self*

    *Thinks*

    *Goes back and stuffs ballot box with paper containing his name*

    I need to win something.
    Quote Originally Posted by YPU View Post
    Real life doesn’t happen, it surprises you like a trap of a CR way above your level.

  18. - Top - End - #258
    Ettin in the Playground
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by Kneenibble View Post
    Hey, no hard feelings, DD, either way. Sorry if I sounded bitchy, it wasn't my intent at all.

    I've tried to be quite meticulous about my editing in this story, because it strikes me that Randman is what they call a Sharp Cookie for details. He's well-cast in this, it seems.

    China Gold
    By Kneenibble

    Chapter 3: Truth for Sale
    Including so far, in order of mention:
    randman22222
    Kneenibble
    happyturtle
    Kaelaroth
    FF fanboy
    dallas-dakota

    and now, Ethrael

    Spoiler
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    The streets are empty, and the bluish presage of dawn lays delicately on the grimy cement. Randman sniffs up the heavy humid air. The morning is neither fresh nor crisp and it turns inside his empty stomach like gooey undercooked bread.

    The fact of death sits heavy on his mind. It is not grief, exactly: an indifferent weight unembodied by concept. He loosens his necktie and undoes the top two buttons of his shirt and carries his hat in his hand. The few blocks to the Fort Garry disappear silently behind his shoes.

    It’s a turn-of-the-century hotel, ornate masonry with green copper roofs peaked like a Victorian mansion: the oldest and one of the biggest in the city. Nibs hadn’t been lying when he said it was good taste. Uniformed valets open the polished brass doors for Randman and the air-conditioning washes over him sweetly.

    Randman crosses the old-fashioned carpet in the lobby, which is rich with greenery and furnishings if mostly empty of people, to the lavatories. He runs the tap until the water turns cold then gulps down mouthfuls from his hands and splashes it on his face and hair. He turns off the tap and stares in the mirror. His face is slightly greenish; his eyes are slightly reddish; there is a glitter of yellow fuzz on his cheeks and chin. It is not a pretty picture. He washes his face again and drinks more water and then dries himself with a plush white towel from a basket beside the sink. It’s an improvement.

    He stands with his hands on the edge of the sink, glaring at his reflection. The very last of the rye has gone and left a pricking sharp awareness behind. One of the light fixtures above an adjacent sink flickers and starts to hum stridently. Randman flips his investigator’s ID out of his coat and inspects it. Randman Deuce, Private Investigator it says, in a font like on a list of characters at the beginning of a script. For a moment it looks like it belongs to somebody else, or perhaps to the coat. He replaces it in its inner pocket and looks up at a haggard stranger above the sink. Then again, everybody looks like **** in public washrooms. It’s the fluorescent lights.

    The incandescent light of the lobby, most of it from a massive crystal chandelier, feels gentler, mixed with the gathering gold of dawn. Randman looks across to the front desk, where polished clerks in smart uniforms try to look busy. Nearby a bellhop passes him in the same sort of outfit with an empty luggage cart, moving without much hurry.

    “Excuse me,” Randman calls, approaching him, one hand in a pocket. The bellhop – a young guy with an easy-to-like face and dark, friendly eyes – stops and leans against the brass rails of the luggage cart, crossing his arms and lifting his eyebrows. There’s a toothpick sticking out between his lips, which he is chewing slowly.

    “How ya doin’ there –“ he looks at the embossed nametag “—Ethrael? Nice pl –“

    “It’s pronounced Ethrael, actually, sir,” says the bellhop helpfully.

    “What is that, French?”

    The bellhop smiles very pleasantly. “No, it’s Enochian. I’m an angel.”

    Randman smiles himself, breathes a sibilant laugh, and eyes the tailored uniform from cap to shoes and back. “Yes, I can believe that.”

    “What can I help you with, sir?” says the bellhop.

    Randman gives the brim of his hat a tug, finding himself unable to stop smiling. “I’m looking for someone,” he says, and a bubble of laughter rises from inside him and bursts. Ethrael watches him patiently.

    “I’m looking for a friend of mine. She is staying in this hotel, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with her and I don’t know what room she’s staying in. I need to leave her a message to call me.” He puts both hands in his pockets. “Soon.”

    “Who’s your friend, sir?” the bellhop asks.

    “Miss Caelo Ruto,” Randman says, and at the mention of the name, Ethrael touches his cheek with three fingertips together as it turns pink very quickly. Aside from this gesture, he offers no reaction. “You know her? If you’ve seen her, you’d know her. Fancy Chinese silks, high heels, black curls, eyes a man could kill for – a real lady.”

    Ethrael lowers his hand and refolds his arms, looking Randman in the eye without saying a word. Randman lifts his eyebrows. The silence stretches until the message gets across. He fishes a ten dollar bill out of his coat and pushes it down neatly into the front pocket of the bellhop’s uniform, and then puts a cigarette in his mouth.

    “Miss Ruto is in room 448, sir, but you sure didn’t hear it from me.” As Randman starts to search his various pockets for his cigarette lighter, the bellhop raises his clenched fist into the air between them. “Ah ah, allow me, sir.” He opens his hand and a small tongue of fire flickers in the centre of his palm.

    Randman hesitates only a moment before sticking the end of his cigarette into it and takes a drag, deliberately nonplussed. “Nice trick. How do you manage that?”

    “No tricks, sir,” Ethrael replies, smiling helpfully, and quickly closes and opens his fist again. This time a tiny wisp of smoke drifts up from his palm, flameless. He crosses his arms.

    Randman blinks, chuckles, and bows his head. “Have it your way. Hey, good not to have met you, Ethrael.”

    Ethrael says, “You too, sir,” and pushes his luggage cart towards the service elevators. Randman approaches the front desk and leaves a message for Miss Caelo Ruto to call Mr. Randman Deuce, and his cellphone number – making no mention of rooms. The clerk takes the message neutrally, consults a computer, and then promises its delivery. Randman leaves his cigarette in the front desk ashtray and catches a cab back to his apartment. The sun is up by the time he locks the door and draws the flimsy drapes. In the kitchen, he considers the mickey of rye and the print-smeared tumbler, but heads directly for bed instead.

    He sleeps until noon, showers in ice-cold water, shaves, and dresses in the same brown suit. He has a good meal and walks down to his office. The old floors creak as he enters, and Turtle is at the desk with her laptop open, cheerful and smelling of her implacable perfume.

    “Hello, hello! How did things work out last night with the fanboy, Mr. Deuce? Nibs hasn’t been in today.”

    Randman takes off his hat.

    Turtle starts to cry by the time Randman finishes the story and her impeccably applied mascara stains her eyelids. “It was quick and painless, at least,” he says, deadpan. “Right in the heart. Deep. Ah, don’t cry, Turtle. At least he’s getting some rest.”

    “You be careful, Randman. You be careful. You drop the case if you have to. You think the fanboy did it, then? If there’s any danger to you, you drop the case, Randman Deuce.” She takes a long sniff and wipes her eyes with tissue.

    “We need the money, Turtle,” he returns, deadpan. “We need the money. And we can’t afford to go dropping a case at the first sign of danger, either. Are there any messages?”

    “No,” she says, stilling herself with a deep breath. “None.”

    Randman’s cellphone goes off. He goes into the office and shuts the door as the clacking of keys starts up from behind him. He flips the phone open and answers it. The floor creaks as he paces from desk to desk.

    “Mr. Deuce?” says a smooth, elegant voice.

    “Good afternoon, Miss Ruto. Did you meet up with my partner last night?”

    The voice offers answer without hesitation. “Yes, of course. I waited in the lobby after dark like he said. Oh, the fanboy was there, Mr. Deuce! He was there watching, from the corner of the lobby! I nodded him out to your partner like he said, secretly, and then went straight up to my room and locked the door. I was terrified. But I got your message, Mr. Deuce, only just now. Can you give me some good news? Am I safe now, Mr. Deuce?”

    Randman clears his throat, and answers, deadpan. “My partner is dead, Miss Ruto.”

    There is a very long silence over the phone. They hear each other breathing. Randman finally breaks it. His voice comes out harder than he intends. “How soon can you get down to my office, Miss Ruto?”

    Caelo answers softly and distant. “I’ll take a cab right away. Right away.”

    Randman snaps the phone shut and drops it in his coat pocket, then hangs it up with his hat on the coat tree and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He walks creakingly to the window with its grimy blinds flipped open and twists them shut. Ash and a cigarette butt are mashed against the floor nearby from the day before. He kicks the butt into the corner and sits at his desk. He splashes a little rye into his scratched-up juice glass and throws it back, then pours another. He stares at it in the half-darkness without drinking. The gold-coloured poison glows in the shadowless light.

    He puts the glass down with a hard tap, stands, and crosses the room again to Nibs’ desk. His coffee cup has a viscous black puddle in the bottom, only a mouthful. It tastes bitter and oily. The drawn blinds dull the street noise. He hears Turtle’s keyboard faintly outside. He returns to his own desk, sits, leans back, and starts to smoke.

    In thirty-five minutes, Turtle knocks. Her perfume fills up the room. Her cheer is only slightly dampened but she avoids Randman’s eye. Caelo Ruto sweeps in past her in stilettos, his curls artfully arranged, his liquor-brown eyes large and wet. Turtle closes the door behind him, saying nothing.

    They face each other in the gloom. “Mr. Deuce,” he says with a quiet respect for the office’s mourning atmosphere, “I am sincerely sorry for your partner. He seemed like a good man.” His eyebrows slant towards his ears and he tilts his head, clutching his handbag against his diaphragm which had begun to heave. He stays by the office door.

    “Then you didn’t know him very well,” Randman says very calmly, and motions to the chair near his desk. “Sit and talk, Miss Ruto. Nibs was found in a pool of blood with a shuriken buried in his heart.” He watches Caelo’s reactions very closely, who sits and listens, eyes on the edge of overflowing. “Now save your condolences, Nibs and I both accepted certain risks when we got into this profession. I want to know about that shuriken. What about the fanboy? Would he use a weapon like that?”

    “Yes,” Caelo answers, breathing deeply, and drying his eyes with a lacy handkerchief. They remain dry. His nails are painted incarnadine. He looks at his handbag in his lap. “Most certainly he would. That was one of the reasons I understood he was in Beijing. I’m sorry, Mr. Deuce: when I said he was dangerous, I should have been more specific. I strongly believe he was a part of the Hu Lang underworld working and training as a – well, a –“

    “Right,” says Randman. “You consort with that sort often, Miss Ruto?”

    “I didn’t know at first. I only found out later. Why do you think I tried to break things off?” Outside on the street, slightly muffled by the blinds, there is a screech and a series of car horns honking. Both Randman and Caelo lift their heads, waiting for a crunch.

    Nothing. Somebody shouts. Then silence.

    When Randman turns his head back to Caelo, a delicate, manicured hand is extending a colourful bill with a couple of zeroes on it towards him, smiling with the innocence of a lamb.

    “Good,” Randman says, taking the bill and putting it in his coat. “You could have told us more in the first place, although let’s say you paid us enough not to ask too many questions. But the game has changed a little now, Miss Ruto. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that’s actually your name but it’s time for you to fill in some details or I’m turning it over to the police. What’s your real business with the fanboy? What were you doing in China?”

    Caelo draws another deep breath, squares his slender shoulders and meets Randman’s blue eyes directly. “Alright. You have a right to ask now. I was in Beijing on business as well as pleasure. Sometimes I have trouble keeping the two separate, you see.” He puts one of his polished hands on the desk and leans forwards emphatically. His tastefully painted lips curve. “I am an entrepreneuse. I deal in artefacts and antiques, mostly, especially in Asia. Some of my business is done over the internet now, but most of it must still be conducted in person. China is a gold mine right now. The iron curtain is full of holes and they’ll lift it for anybody who can tuck money in the right pockets. And they’re very busy with the Olympics right now.”

    “Are you implying some kind of illegal –“

    “Illegal?” Caelo steamrolls over Randman with a slightly frenzied passion. “The law is a different creature altogether in China, Mr. Deuce. Altogether different! I couldn’t explain it to you exactly. Resourcefulness legally overrides the laws in China. Knowledge, connections – money. Power. Power is the law in China, and serves those who can wield it.” He leans back and daintily fixes his black curls, dropping his voice. “The fanboy and I met for business – although I swear I didn’t know about his Hu Lang connections until after! – but stuck together afterwards. For pleasure.” He tilts his head, and again, smiles. “Can you blame a lady for it?”

    Randman averts his eyes from the smile, which makes him slightly giddy. He looks at the slug of rye, still sitting undrunk nearby on his desk. “What kind of business?”

    “He was helping me with a transaction. I was tracking down a very valuable Chinese artefact for a client. An ancient bottle made from emerald jade, still sealed. I don’t know what it was supposed to contain. Once I procured it, and got it somewhere safe, is when the fanboy turned on me.” Caelo’s eyes fall back to his handbag, and the storm of his passion leaves him. He looks spent. "The rest is all true. Omissions, not lies."

    For several minutes, they sit listening only to the faint click of keys from the waiting room. Randman’s eyebrows crinkle up in thought, damned glad he hadn’t taken the second slug. He drops his latest cigarette into the glass with a hiss.

    Without looking up, Caelo adds at a near whisper, “Please take care of me, Mr. Deuce.”

    Randman gets up and goes into the waiting room, closing the door. Turtle looks up at him, and her cheerful smile drops off instantly into a startled, worried expression as she sees his face.

    “I need you to look after Caelo tonight, Turtle,” Randman says. “She can’t go back to her hotel just yet. She needs to spend the night with you. Get her out of here in a minute and take a cab home. Don’t be seen. Call me here on the land line when you’re safe.”

    Turtle only nods sincerely, and shuts her laptop. “Thanks, Turtle. You’re a doll.”

    Caelo stands, smoothing his exquisite silk gown over his waist, as Randman tells him the plan. He breathes a deep sigh into the bottom of his ribs and smiles. His liquor-brown eyes soften with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Deuce. Really. Thank you so very much. Please be careful.” Randman’s nose fills deliciously with jasmine as Caelo steps close to him. Reaching up even in his stilettos, he presses a tender kiss on the corner of Randman’s smoothly shaven cheek, touches his shoulder, silently repeats the thanks with his eyes, and goes out into the waiting room.

    Randman touches his cheek with three fingertips together, which flushes slightly pink. He listens for the waiting room door to click shut and then creaks over to the window. He opens the blinds and stands, staring out the old window at nothing, his mind spinning.



    There's been so many ships that I can't respond specifically to all of them, but there's some really fun work happening in this thread which pleases me greatly. I loved your Tears, Curly, and Aziraphale, it's nice to see something more raw and heartfelt from you.
    Simply amazing Kneen simply amazing. Now that I understand the sex of the client its actually alot easier to read, and you seem to have made alot of improvements about everything in general.

  19. - Top - End - #259
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    Ooh, awesomieness!!!! Thank you so much Kneen!! Now to add Enochian to my "want to learn languages" list...

    Oh and I don't know whether to vote for the blond or Kneen. Drama or speech. For the lack of desciption to the latter I'll go with Kneenibble!

    Oh and Fanboy, Kitty is actually weaker in Ultimate than in others. Recently in Astonishing X-men, she died but only because of an incredible feat she acomplished somehow. But yeah, she is one of the most powerful superheroines.
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  20. - Top - End - #260
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by Ethrael View Post
    Ooh, awesomieness!!!! Thank you so much Kneen!! Now to add Enochian to my "want to learn languages" list...

    Oh and I don't know whether to vote for the blond or Kneen. Drama or speech. For the lack of desciption to the latter I'll go with Kneenibble!

    Oh and Fanboy, Kitty is actually weaker in Ultimate than in others. Recently in Astonishing X-men, she died but only because of an incredible feat she acomplished somehow. But yeah, she is one of the most powerful superheroines.
    Next to Jean grey of coruse. ;P

  21. - Top - End - #261
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    And Storm, and Rachel Summers, and any other female Omega-level mutants. This really is a conversation for the Comic Books section, so I'll shut up
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  22. - Top - End - #262
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    Quote Originally Posted by Ethrael View Post
    And Storm, and Rachel Summers, and any other female Omega-level mutants. This really is a conversation for the Comic Books section, so I'll shut up
    Just referncing the first one that came to mind. Shadowkat is far from the most powerful char. ANd you right back to the shipping peoplez.

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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    As far as I know, she "died" having fused to a missile-sized bullet that was aimed at Earth after phasing it through the planet.

    So yeah, not one to mess with.

    On with the armadas!

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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by rubakhin View Post
    I loved the French.
    then serve you emperor. For teh revolution
    from
    EE

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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    What has come before and alongside...

    Prelude - Discernment

    Prelude - Interstices

    Prelude - Hunter's Green

    Part 1 (by RHL)

    Mad Season - Adaptation

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    Mad Season - Adaptation
    Bubbles. They floated by him, distorted faces screaming silently. Occasionally he would reach out and pop one with a twisted fingernail. Rainbow-hued film clung to the jagged nail, and he stared at it for a time, watching the colours shift as he twisted and turned his hand thither and yon. It was calming, after the frustration he'd experienced.

    Wholly unsuitable. He'd been wholly unsuitable for the project; clay glazed with its flaws still sealed within. The flaws went too deep. The scalpel was too superficial, and Master had forbade him to kill. But the artist inside demanded release, railed once more against the uselessness of painting on soiled canvas.

    So he composed. An ode to indifference, sung in the key of cerulean dreams, murmured and mangled, he recited, point to counterpoint, each drabble, each dribble, each pearl before the swine uniquely formed to take the flaws of the man and transform them into a beautiful sineous serpent that laid a crystal egg inside the walls, a limbless lizard within to match the man without.

    Haunting words, half-said, half-sad. Within the walls of the womb-forge where he was to be reborn, he planted his seed, nursed it and watered it. Watched it put down roots and draw sustenance and grow. It was most beautiful to watch as the man's hubris slowly shifted to the fore, almost intoxicating for Renfield to watch his creation slowly reason himself into the abyss. The very set nature of his character ensured he would be unable to adapt.

    All it took was two lunar cycles. Disappointing. He tore at his hair and his arms in a rage at his failure. He did not even realize that two orderlies had attempted to take hold of him until he felt the metallic sliver; felt the familiar black blossoming that unfurled through his body, opening like the lotus of enlightenment to cradle him.

    ...

    Bright flashes. Portraits of ruin, spinning slowly into oblivion. And behind it all, two eyes watching. Always watching.

    "Why?!"

    "Why won't you speak to me?"

    "Rise, Renfield"

    ...

    Words sailed like ships on an ocean of liquid obsidian.

    "He's been like this for three days."

    The patient voice of the Keeper cut in smoothly. "He will rise soon. Make sure food and water are available. Soft, simple foods."

    "Who will take his docket?"

    "Wiggins, I think. He's shown a flair for dealing with ... special cases."

    Once more he slipped beneath the surface.

    ...

    "You test your limits, Renfield. Know they will be tested further."

    Bubbles, like black tar, oozed up all around, bursting, spattering his flesh, sending burning heat rushing through him.

    "Enough, Renfield! You will learn to come and go when I call you, or I shall simply stop calling. Rise once again into your dreams.

    Screaming voiceless, he fell into the void

    ...

    The walls came back first; as eyes opened, mouth dry and ragged, lips parting on the scream that woke him. The door was next, firm and resolute, seperating him from the rats who ran the maze. Still hazy, it was some time before he could will his limbs into solidity, crawling awkwardly toward the bowl whose contents he could smell more than see and thrusting his face into it, hardly feeling the warmth of the broth as he drank it down, whuffling like a pig at trough, and as neatly.

    For a moment, he blew bubbles in the broth, but the rainbows refused to dance for him today. It hardly mattered - he was dreaming, and in time, the dream would dance with him.

    ...

    The frustration returned all too soon. The master had been correct. Time and again and again, he'd been correct. This Wiggins was too soft; he could not be shaped. Alabaster was as pointless as his namesake, and Hemaphile was too engrossed in the plumbing to come up for air. And that was the best of the lot. The bubbles popped in silent screams, leaving behind only a sticky film with a sour taste. Four times they pulled him out of the womb. Four times they inserted him again. He bubbled and seethed with the indignity of his situation, until, like a teapot he began to boil over.

    And then he would **** his ear to one side or the other, as if listening to something from afar, and he would, of a sudden, be seized by a calmness that was, if anything, even more disturbing than his ravings and mumblings. At these times he was heard to mutter under his breath.

    "No death. Not even la petite mort, d'champs."

    This odd little mantra was quickly written off as one more example of his 'warped poetry', added to the file, along with the letters of transfer and resignation, and a series of newsprint stills, of scandals and suicides of prominent members of society. Very carefully made investments, coupled with the public's general aversion to even thinking about asylums were all that had kept the name of the asylum itself out of these pieces.

    It was enough to drive one mad, the Warder noted with grim irony as he reviewed the file once more before replacing it.

    ...

    It was summer outside the asylum. A woman approached the doors; she was carefully but attractively dressed, in an outfit that suited her figure but did not emphasize it. She walked with an energy and a verve that the madman in the window had never observed before in this place. He immediately moved toward the door of his palace, which gave way to him, and crept into the hallways, moving with a spider-like grace, leaning forward, at times leaning upon his hands as he loped. Turn, turn, turn, there and there. The high man guarded the treasured chamber. He knew how to handle that. Hard and fast, like a bandage. His hand raised up, fingers curled like claws ... and then he fell to the ground, weeping, whispering. "No... no death, d'champs, sworn, swear, Master."

    The high man pushed him away a bit as he whimpered, and behind, in the framework of the now open way, she stood, and regarded the mewling thing on the floor. Their eyes met for a moment and the madman's wretched sounds fell silent.

    The Warden's voice slid into the silence. "Ahh. Mister Renfield. How apropros to the moment. I would like you to meet Doctor Curly. She'll be starting with us soon..."

    Last edited by Helgraf; 2008-09-07 at 03:23 AM.
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  26. - Top - End - #266
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    Quote Originally Posted by alexeduardo View Post
    Okay, here's my first Ship

    The Death of The Crimson Mage

    Starring
    MasatoHyuga
    and
    Thanatos

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    It was a dark and stormy night. As it had been for a thousand years now.
    Everyone knew why, it was because the earth was still mourning Masato.

    Masato had been a hero of the Wizard Revolution. He had taken the command of the Revolutionary Armies after Merlin was captured and oh so brutally executed, and for that, everyone admired him.
    It hadn't been easy, taking the first post as general of The Armies, especially when you consider the Wizards were outnumbered 4 to 1 on every battlefield.
    But Masato son of Hyuga had done it, and he had been bave enough to challenge his elders and call for the Psion College's help. Now, you must remember than back then psionics were shunned and feared as demons. It was very bold of Masato to even adress them in a non-confidential manner.

    In the end, it proved to be a very smart choice. The dwarven armies had been trained for years in deflecting and countering magic attacks, but they had never expected a Psion betrayal. The Dwarven capital of Moria fell within the week.
    After that, the continent fell into chaos. As many revolutionaries, Masato had not planned ahead of victory. Some sources even say he never expected one. And when the time finally came to make a new goverment, he left the desicion to his wizard elders.
    This was not done out of foolishness or cowardice, it was a rather thought-out manouver to convince the Loyalist wizards that he wasn't entirely out of touch with his origins.

    But, as history shows us, it proved to be a mistake. The elders did not care for fairness and order, they only joined the revolution to have a chance to govern the world. And they now had it.
    The first order thay gave was to kill all the psionics. Most wizards questioned and even refused to carry out the order, something that filled the elders with frustration. In their anger, they captured seven Young Women and held them hostage. The ransom: Thanthos' head.

    Now, history books will tell you thanthos was a villian. That is because it is wizards who write hose books. But I'm no wizard, so I can tell you with total security that Thanathos was a hero.
    And a Hero of The Revolution at that.
    He had fought bravely by Masato's side, he had been the very first important psionic figure to fully accept the Wizards' proposal of an alliance. He had been head of Covert Operations for the whole week the Psions played a part on the revolution, and his actions had been critical to the Wizard/Psion victory.
    Like that time he had risked everything to infiltrate The Dark Fort and defeat Lord Dambdun. Or that heroic stunt he pulled by literally jumping from one dirigible to the other, which didn't accomplish much on its own but bettered the troops' morale considerably.
    The Wizards have made sure his heroics be silenced and cutted off the history books, but he is a hero. I know it.

    Anyway, the thing is, when Thanathos heard of the Hostage Situation he couldn't help but embark on a journey to save the Women. He infiltrated the castle at night and fought heroically (as always) against insurmountable odds. The elders, upon hearing of this, sent a bat to alert Masato that the palae was under attack. They didn't tell him by whom.

    Masato got on his Hummingbird and flew to the palace as fast as he could. When he arrived he made his way to the elders' chambers. and then he saw it: Thanatos, with a sword on his hand, standing next to the chopped bodies of the elders. Masato did not understand it, Thanatos was his friend.
    But Thanatos did not see a friend on that doorway, he saw a rat that had betrayed him and the whole psionic suborder. He saw the Wizard ideology incarnate. He saw Arcane magic with a sword, and wasn't about to fall by it.

    So they engaged in a duel. Not only of magic but of swords and minds.
    An epic battle that played out all across the Palace. Many psions and wizards joined in and it turned into a true bloodshed.
    to be continued....


    PEACH....now!
    Your narrative is very Tolkien-esque. Or at least I think so. You're very intimate with the reader and that makes it even more like you've sat down and you're telling us a story. That's very difficult when writing.

    I'd only say check your spelling of Thanatos a bit. Oh and there seems to be a great history behind every character or organisation in this story, which makes it harder for us to feel informed. If you want, take the mention of a new face as a chance for a off-track explanation, as Tolkien does in the one book I read. When you introduce a character, put the story on hold and and explain more about that character.

    That's just my opinion, Curly might be able to help you more with the Tolkienness...
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  27. - Top - End - #267
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    I'd like someone to ship the Bounty and the HMS Victory together.

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  28. - Top - End - #268
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Why am I thinking that that blond boy is me?

    Or is my desire to be in a fic just to great?
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    Quote Originally Posted by RabbitHoleLost View Post
    DD: .... DEM HIPS.
    Quote Originally Posted by faerwain View Post
    Why do I have the feeling that you actually really grind Smurfs to make your ice cream?
    Quote Originally Posted by banjo1985 View Post
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    Ceikatar!

  29. - Top - End - #269
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Ahh, well, the only reason I'm in as many fics as I am is because I'm writing them.

    I think I've been in two fics not penned by my hand, one as a sort of sideplot character.

    RHL's Mad Season (whose title I appropriated), and a brief cameo in a Wonderland-esque bit where apparently my destruction of part of the gardens was the cause for a lack of invitation for the Spades suit royalty to a wedding.
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  30. - Top - End - #270
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    Default Re: Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

    Quote Originally Posted by Rawhide View Post
    I'd like someone to ship the Bounty and the HMS Victory together.
    ...maybe later.
    Nothing but a Nobody

    Quote Originally Posted by Cogwheel View Post
    Also, are you even human any more, or did you just transcend into some sort of in-joke singularity?

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