So maybe you've seen my art, maybe you haven't. Anyways, on with the stories! Some of these I can't guarente are entirely PG13, so... reader descression is advised. And don't worry, I'll have more for you for sure.
A Composure of Time- Where Are They, Who Is She?
Father! Father!!! Where’s mommy?
He asks me that… he asks so often… my poor child. Oh, my darling, where are you? I pick up a picture frame with our faces- you’re there, but where are you?
Father! Father, come look, come look!
He cries to me, he wants me to come see what he’s made- I’m busy. Go bother the cook. I’m busy.
Father! Father!!! It hurts! It hurts, help me! Help me!
What now? I’m busy… Oh my darling, if you were here… I know you are not- you’re in the picture frame, but you aren’t here… where are you?
Father, come participate! I miss you!
Not now, not now. There’s other things to be done. Important things. I’m busy, child, go away. My darling- come back…
Father- I’m in love. Father? Are you listening?
I’m busy, don’t bother me. I’m working. Go play outside, child. I don’t want to be bothered. I’m busy.
Father, the wedding is tomorrow. Can’t you spare some time?
No. Go away. I don’t care what you’re doing, I’m busy. I have things that need to be done. I don't have time for you. I’m busy.
Father, come meet your granddaughter, she’s beautiful.
Can’t you see I’m busy, child? Go outside and play, for christsake! Do something so that you aren’t bothering me and making so much racket inside! Shoo, or I’ll toss you out!
Son? Son- where are you? Your room is empty… where are you? You’re gone… just like her… Where are you? Where did you go? Aren’t you coming back? Won’t you be lost out there?
Grandfather? Grandfather?
The voice echoes in the halls of my home… who is that? I only had a son… and he’s a child… I can’t… she can’t… who is she? She looks like him. But he’s only a child- if only they were here… my wife and our son… who is this girl?
He asks me that… he asks so often… my poor child. Oh, my darling, where are you? I pick up a picture frame with our faces- you’re there, but where are you?
Father! Father, come look, come look!
He cries to me, he wants me to come see what he’s made- I’m busy. Go bother the cook. I’m busy.
Father! Father!!! It hurts! It hurts, help me! Help me!
What now? I’m busy… Oh my darling, if you were here… I know you are not- you’re in the picture frame, but you aren’t here… where are you?
Father, come participate! I miss you!
Not now, not now. There’s other things to be done. Important things. I’m busy, child, go away. My darling- come back…
Father- I’m in love. Father? Are you listening?
I’m busy, don’t bother me. I’m working. Go play outside, child. I don’t want to be bothered. I’m busy.
Father, the wedding is tomorrow. Can’t you spare some time?
No. Go away. I don’t care what you’re doing, I’m busy. I have things that need to be done. I don't have time for you. I’m busy.
Father, come meet your granddaughter, she’s beautiful.
Can’t you see I’m busy, child? Go outside and play, for christsake! Do something so that you aren’t bothering me and making so much racket inside! Shoo, or I’ll toss you out!
Son? Son- where are you? Your room is empty… where are you? You’re gone… just like her… Where are you? Where did you go? Aren’t you coming back? Won’t you be lost out there?
Grandfather? Grandfather?
The voice echoes in the halls of my home… who is that? I only had a son… and he’s a child… I can’t… she can’t… who is she? She looks like him. But he’s only a child- if only they were here… my wife and our son… who is this girl?
Perfect Little Lies
Sometimes, when I'm in my bed trying to sleep, it's as if I can't stop the feeling of being turned about constantly, spinning out of my own control. Everything tilts and whirs at the pace of a sandstorm, yet I open my eyes and everything is as it was- silent, still. There are times that it makes me think back to my childhood. Mostly, I remember my father. My father and I at the piano while he played some long forgotten piece from when he was young. My father and I in the gardens, teaching me what each thing was and how to use it. My father and I going to find my mother who was wasting away in her rooms. The spinning when I close my eyes reminds me of her, my mother, and how she had, at one point, been bright and cheerful, and would spin me around the room, turning, turning, dancing with me while she sang a folk song from her own past. The way I feel flattened when I'm trying to fall asleep, it reminds me of her nights of insanity when she would stand over me with a knife, muttering how I had entrapped her, how it was my fault that she was stuck there. It reminds me of how I would wake, and try to flatten myself in the bed to escape her words and tears. My father had one night grown tired of her constant threats, and had dragged her out, and punished her for it. I hadn't wanted her to be punished- it just... happened. I couldn't control it anymore than my father could stop the wood blight that killed the forests around our home.
My mother had been a model- at one point or another. She'd been beautiful for the public. Always wearing some new, designer label bag, and making it look like something anyone could just throw on and wear for the day. She had been 'loved,' and 'adored' by many. It had been everything she loved; bless her shallow, salt water heart. My father was from an old, old family line, so filthy rich, he was poorer for it. A night-prowling country dweller, he lived for the cities, for the excitement of the girls with their shirts cut low, and any pretty skirt who happened to wear her hem too high. Naturally, when they met it was true love. But my father became possessive. So much so, he brought her to his estate, trapping her there, even after they had me.
In the country, my mother had become a truly beautiful individual, completely carefree as to life. Her naturally occurring, healthy curves seemed to have more life, her skin becoming an attractive tan, and her complexion a seductive kind of perfect. My father told me how she used to love to climb trees, garden, and even go out and dance in the rain for so long, before she finally became brooding, locking herself in her room for days on end. He told me about all that he loved about her, before she became depressed, and no longer cared for even herself. For the longest time, he'd said, he'd tried to cheer her. He'd tried all that he could, but he couldn't find any way to truly help her condition, before he'd become so irritated and fed up with things himself that tensions grew between them. Most would balk to know that their father had killed their mother... but for me it was simply a fact of life. The man who constantly protected me had ended the woman who had become insane and threatened my existence. It was only after my second year of schooling when I'd questioned him about it, and his only reaction was to become somber, and ask me softly to think of other things- he'd explain when I was older. When I was older, he did. And I have regretted it to this day. Living a perfect little lie would have been much, much better.
My mother had been a model- at one point or another. She'd been beautiful for the public. Always wearing some new, designer label bag, and making it look like something anyone could just throw on and wear for the day. She had been 'loved,' and 'adored' by many. It had been everything she loved; bless her shallow, salt water heart. My father was from an old, old family line, so filthy rich, he was poorer for it. A night-prowling country dweller, he lived for the cities, for the excitement of the girls with their shirts cut low, and any pretty skirt who happened to wear her hem too high. Naturally, when they met it was true love. But my father became possessive. So much so, he brought her to his estate, trapping her there, even after they had me.
In the country, my mother had become a truly beautiful individual, completely carefree as to life. Her naturally occurring, healthy curves seemed to have more life, her skin becoming an attractive tan, and her complexion a seductive kind of perfect. My father told me how she used to love to climb trees, garden, and even go out and dance in the rain for so long, before she finally became brooding, locking herself in her room for days on end. He told me about all that he loved about her, before she became depressed, and no longer cared for even herself. For the longest time, he'd said, he'd tried to cheer her. He'd tried all that he could, but he couldn't find any way to truly help her condition, before he'd become so irritated and fed up with things himself that tensions grew between them. Most would balk to know that their father had killed their mother... but for me it was simply a fact of life. The man who constantly protected me had ended the woman who had become insane and threatened my existence. It was only after my second year of schooling when I'd questioned him about it, and his only reaction was to become somber, and ask me softly to think of other things- he'd explain when I was older. When I was older, he did. And I have regretted it to this day. Living a perfect little lie would have been much, much better.
The Size of His Heart
I couldn't help it, honest. I'd been wandering aimlessly, when I heard the sound. It was a beautiful, heart breaking tone, as I'd passed Karro's room- He'd been singing to his daughter.
His daughter, Mirre, is only a month or so old. Her mother had been human, but then had been turned, and was a vampire. But she's disappeared, so Karro's been so very overprotective of Mirre, it's been almost sickening to watch.
When I heard him singing, I came to the door, and slinked in. I was in my cat form, so there was nothing really bad about it, and he didn't really seem to notice me anyways.
He'd been singing something about the moon watching over her, but that song ended before I could get really into it. Then he started singing 'Hushabye,' but it was his own, sort've.
"Hushabye, baby,
On the tree tops,
When the wind blows,
Your cradle will rock."
And that was the only part he'd sing, and he kept repeating it, in such a melancholy way. I could only conclude that he was thinking of his mother- who recently died... was killed. By his father.
Truly, it was very pitiful, but then he finally sang it a differently. It was so cold, I couldn't help but shiver, and wonder how this could possibly be the same person I knew.
"Hushabye, baby,
on the treetops,
When the wind blows,
The cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks,
Your cradle will fall.
Down will come baby,
Cradle, and all.
Rock-a-bye, baby,
The cradle is green;
Father's a tyrant,
Mother's a dead queen;
Tallulah's a whore,
And wears gold rings,
And Nolan's a hunter,
Who kills for greed."
It was almost painful, to hear him speak in such a way, since he's normally sooo nice, but now I must worry if he's going to come after me. His green eyes stared right through me when I stood, stretched, and left. He really does scare me sometimes, so I have to wonder how much like his father he really is.
Control
In all honesty, Lucia hadn't been expecting it. She'd left the classroom to go to her locker. It was art class, which for her meant a better chance already for the teacher to agree to her leaving. It also meant that the teacher, once she was gone, forgot she was already wandering the halls, and sent out another student with a similar request.
Lucia stood up from her bottom row locker, taking a deep breath in with her mouthh. She hated the air in the hallways. Always had. However, since she was so focused on not breathing the air through her nose, she didn't hear Jerard come up behind her.
A pair of hands settled on her waist. Lucia jumped. There was a snicker just behind her, before he rested his head on her shoulder.
"Lucia," he laughed, "it's just me. You act as if there was something going to get you at anytime."
She looked back at him and Jerard was smiling serenly at her with his light purple eye. He reached up and brushed is hand across her cheek, before grasping her jawline to kiss her. Lucia, though, pushed him back, frowning.
"It's school hours," She protested stiffly, trying to play the responsible one.
"You can't tel me the trouble we could get in doesn't entice you," Jerard smirked, leaning her against the lockers a little more.
"With your luck, we're gonna get caught,"
"I don't always get caught,"
"You do too, often enough. Get off, Damn medic!"
Lucia felt the tickle of silent laughter against her neck, and her skin crawled. It was true, she couldn't say that it wasn't alluring to just drop all and make out with her boy-friend in the hallway. But their track record was a train wreck when it came to these things, and getting out of getting caught, which happened quite frequently. Anytime they'd ever decided to sneak out, they'd been caught by the police and he was still brought home in cuffs for PDA in the back seat, though the offence was a year before.
She could suggest to leave, to sneak out of the school, but that was probably the worst idea she could suggest in their situation. But... the way he looked at her. It was always like a block of ice had settled on the back of her neck... Most girls shuddered away from him, too unnerved to giggle about his soft features and strange eyes. Lucia, on the other hand, fell for any of his pleads within moments of using his 'puppy face.'
"Fine, fine!" she sighed, throwing her hands up, then pressing them against the lockers, and turning around completely to look at Jerard.
He just grinned widely, reached around her, and pulled her close. He leaned her back, just enough to to touch the lockers again, and kissed her. Like always, in Lucia's mind, it was a wonderful kiss. It was as if he was breathing her in, sucking her into his world. All while holding her in place, grounding her in his arms.
Nearby, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat.
"And as always, you're a magnet for authority," she mumbled. She looked over Jerard's shoulder to see the head of the stronger studen group, the Legion.
"H-Hadrian!" She said, pushing Jerard away, "Wh-what are you doing-"
"Out in the hallway?" Clearing obscenities, Blue. Get to class. If you get in trouble... Believe me, it will be all the worse later," Hadrian growled, sneering. Promptly, he turned on his heel, and carried on in the direction he had been heading.
Lucia sighed, and leaned back against the lockers.
"Blue?" Jerard asked, begining to frown, "you're the Legion's head informant on the FAE?"
Lucia rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, and?"
Jerard crossed his arms.
"I know you run both sides, Jerard. I do too, okay? I'm jsut not recognized by the FAE anymore. Covert and all that."
"That could be a reason the FAE starts an all out pvp assult, you know."
"That's what I'm trying to prevent! Remember last year, what happened to 'Little Animal'?"
"Yes," Jerard's voice was quiet to the accusational stab of a question Lucia had asked.
"I could have stopped that, if I'd been running both sides back then. Instead of just keeping to myself."
"You're blaming yourself for her... Condition?"
"No, I'm blaming you. But I like kissing you too much to be that angry about an old accident that left the most innocent girl in school in a wheelchair. I mean, she's still playing, isn't she?"
Jerard laughed. "Well then, you heard the leech. Get back to class."
"Yessir!" Lucia mock-saluted, clicking her heels. He gave her a light swat, and they both laughed, and continued discussing the rolls in their school wide computer game, 'Control', as they walked back to class, hand in hand.
Just a New Toy [PG16] (for smuttiness)
Blue stood by the window, the second time that day. It was raining, by now, and she couldn't help but feel as if she were about to cry with every drop that hit the glass.
Pregnant. How could it have come about? She didn't age- hadn't ever had a period, yet here she was anyways, eighty something (looking sixteen,) and going to have a baby. It scared her beyond anything she knew. Especially after what she had found out. She didn't think Satoshi knew, but Kenman was using opium almost everyday. And, after what Satoshi had told her, she now knew that he was planning on breeding a 'perfect Aryan race.' He scared her, but she couldn't help but feel that fatal attraction to him, his dark ways, and his flashing purple eyes. She couldn't leave him without hurting herself in a way that wouldn't heal. A way that wouldn't be noticed by anyone, but would eat her from the inside, and be the death of her.
However, Blue knew that for Satoshi's sake, she couldn't leave him either, but the two would be the worst combination, if she kept near both. She sniffed, feeling snot run out from her nose because of the tears she wouldn't let fall. She pressed her hands together, just above her navel, biting her lower lip.
A pair of hands reached around her, and she could feel the presence of someone behind her. The hands settled just below hers, and a chin was rested on her head. She sniffed again, and looked up, turning her head up to look at the man who'd just come in. He'd buried his face in her hair, but smiled as she looked at him, and he moved to kiss her just below her eye.
The kiss almost burned, but Blue returned his smile as their hands met, as Jerard Kenman began to knead first her lower belly, then moved up, gently massaging her ribs, which she giggled at, and up to cupping her breasts.
"Jerard..." She began, smiling, only to be cut off by seeing his eyes. Dilated. Again. Her fear returned along with a dread, dread that she could feel in the pit of her stomach.
He just smiled tenderly at her. He kissed the corner of her mouth, before turning her by her shoulder so she was completely facing him.
"Josiphyne," he murmured, "Josiphyne, my Josiphyne," he practically purred the name as he said it the last time. Blue could feel his arms around her now, his hands on her back and neck, keeping her from moving away, keeping her still. He took a step forward, then another, pressing Blue against the cold glass of the window.
The window was a great many stories up, so it was shatterproof, and not able to be opened. Perfectly safe, according to the laws of New York. Though to Blue, each droplet hitting the glass felt as if it were going to shatter the cold, unforgiving glass to dust. She felt as if the rain would take away the proverbial 'rock' that she was being pressed against, by something quite 'hard,' and unforgiving as the glass.
Blue could feel Kenman pressing quite hard against her front, could feel him throbbing for attention, and she tried to press her legs together. A small act of defiance, knowing exactly what he meant to do. Currently, he was most likely hallucinating a previous wife, a previous lover. Not seeing her. Not seeing Blue, right in front of him, as she was. Blue knew he was seeing a ghost from his past, a ghost that she could never contend with. Because that ghost probably meant so much more to him than a vessel for the 'perfect aryan race' he intended to father.
However, no matter how tightly she'd decided to press her legs, it was futile. She hadn't realized, but he'd already slipped his own leg between her thighs, had pushed her a little harder against the window, had forced his mouth against hers, had penetrated her mouth with his tongue, had moved his hands, his arms to pin her wrists against the window.
With one hand, he held her wrists together above her head. With the other, he slipped the tie out of her braid and let the long rope unwind itself so her hair was a crinkled mess down her back. He smiled, tilted her face towards his by placing a finger under her jaw, and kissed her again.
In his mind, Blue decided, it must have been a very sweet and romantic kiss. For Blue, though, it was a trapping, terrifying moment. It was him exerting his power over her. For Blue, it was the final blow, below the belt.
Kenman released her wrists, his fingers entining in the hair just behind her ears. He pulled her face close and kissed her again, before letting one hand wander from her hair, down her neck, tracing a line down from her collarbone, to her breast, to her side, to her belly-button, and then her hip. With his one leg already between hers, he pushed against her, letting her know he could feel the warmth between her legs, her unbidden want for physical pleasure. She shuddered against it, trying to pull away, but it was either him, or the cold glass of the window.
One could be something she always wanted, could give her what she wanted, if only she let down her barriers, the other would always be the same to her, cold and indifferent. For a moment the thought crossed her mind that Satoshi was very much like the window, but the thought was drowned out by the surprise of Kenman nibbling lightly at her neck.
She realized, with great displeasure, that the skirt to her frock had been flipped up to against her belly, and that Kenman had, while her mind was distracted, taken the time to move his hand from her hip to just onto the tender skin on the inside of her now bare thigh. She gasped, taken much by surprise.
A soft chuckle into the hair behind her ear told her that her reaction had been what he'd been waiting for. His hand pressed upwards, the fingers of his right hand roaming expertly into the inside of her, the rest of him resting on top of her to keep her against the window.
Trying to escape, she thought of the gentle rhythm of the slowing rain against the window, but it was almost as if Kenman knew what she was thinking, and made it impossible to concentrate, a soft, low moan escaping Blue's throat as she felt the rising pleasure inside of her.
'It would be better,' she thought, 'if he really could read my mind... maybe he'd be as distracted by himself as I am.'
A breath of air tickled her neck, and she realized he was laughing. The low, startling sound of it reached her ears after a moment. As it did, she could feel his face moving so his mouth was just at her ear again. As she felt his lips brush her ear, she realized that she'd been holding her eyes shut, squinching them so she couldn't see anything in the room, or him. His breath in her ear tickled, and she couldn't help but gasp a little. Then the low, satiny sound of his gentle, even voice came.
"I know, Lucia. I know that you know now. But... this development..." Blue felt his hand pull away from her soft opening, felt him trace against the tender skin, felt his hand rest against her lower stomach, under her clothes. She shuddered at the touch, and could feel him purring into her ear again.
"This is wonderful news, to me, my Lucia, meine leibling," a kiss against her ear, "I do so love you..."
