From quinn@fazigu.org Wed Mar 08 11:05:05 2000 Received: from casper.realtime.com (casper.realtime.net) [205.238.128.161] by requiem.netsville.com with esmtp (Exim 3.12 #1 (Debian)) id 12SixM-0005hf-00; Wed, 08 Mar 2000 11:05:04 -0500 Received: from casper.realtime.com (localhost [127.0.0.1]) by casper.realtime.net (8.7.4/8.7.3) with SMTP id KAA22103 for ; Wed, 8 Mar 2000 10:13:39 -0600 Message-Id: <200003081613.KAA22103@casper.realtime.net> Date: Wed, 8 Mar 2000 10:13:38 -0400 From: "Quinn@Ghostwheel" To: quinn@fazigu.org Subject: Ghostwheel Message(s) 1361 - 1383 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: Ghostwheel (casper.realtime.com 6969) Status: RO Content-Length: 33009 Lines: 669 Message 1361 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jan 12 21:35:17 2000 EST From: Beth (#16526) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: It's the Way You Whisper. "Dr. Cordell, we're shutting down grids three and five for repairs. Maybe you should go sleep for a bit tonight," the intern popped his head in and startled Beth from her research. He winced to see her jump and asked, "You ok, Doctor? I noticed you've been really jumpy since you went upworld the other day." Beth bent down with a tissue to wipe of spilt coffee, an uplander beverage she found stimulated her into staying awake longer. "No, Don, things are fine, I'll clean up and head home." How long since she'd slept, 34 hours? She'd tried, slept for a few hours and then dreamed of _him_. The intern ducked out of the lab again, shutting the door behind him, leaving Beth to the hum of florescent lights and monitoring equipment. She sighed, sitting on the cool tile floor of the sterile lab. This had been her santuary for so long, protecting her from the pressures and fears of the outside world. Then HE had to come along and steal that from her, open her eyes to what she was denying herself. Clutching her knees to her body, she rested her chin on her kneecaps. Home wasn't home anymore, sleep was no longer restful. She dreamed of him, of his touch, his taunting voice. She belonged to him, or so he said. What kind of spell had the Adept left on her? What taint traveled with her under the depths of the ocean? The lights went out in Lab three, but Beth hardly noticed. She was still cradling her knees in her sterile lab environment, cheek pressed against her kneecaps as she slept in the only place she felt safe anymore. -------------------------- Message 1362 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 13 23:46:56 2000 EST From: Ylaerin (#16541) To: *storylines (#5236) So this was what it was like to come to terms with yourself after so many years. So this was what it felt like to acknowledge that there was nothing you could do, anymore, except accept that this was a part of you -- that there was no running, no escaping, no defeating what was inside of you. This was what it felt like to know that you had to own up to something and let the tune play out on its own. She had not known that she was planning to give back the only physical evidence of her feelings for the Elven Adept until she saw him start to walk away from her that night. She had always been able to see him, Rathe, underneath the madness and the decay and the darkness. Watching him in the Lounge, there had still been those moments of lucidity about him, when the crazed look went out of his face and his eyes were almost the same eyes she had looked into and silently pledged her life to nearly eight years before. Seeing him that way -- seeing him any way he might be -- had always hurt her, always thrilled her, always reminded her of everything he took from her, everything he said to her, everything he had or hadn't done... and of everything he was to her. And so, within a heartbeat and as if it were a message from the Bard himself, Ylaerin had known what she needed to do to save herself, if not to save him. And so she had closed her fist around the cloak pin that she had found in the smouldering heap of cloth that day he destroyed himself and she had gone after him. To give it back. To give -him- back a piece of what he had once been, regardless of what it meant to him. This was no longer really about Rathe, anyway. Of course he had looked at her as if she were daft, and the touch of his flesh as she placed the pin in his hand had sent bolts of ice all through her. But it was what he said that marked the turning point, the final acknowledgement of all that had gone before and all the years to come. "Some ties are not so easily broken," he had half-smirked at her, closing his hand around the pin. "I am just as aware of that, my love, as you are." As she stood leaning against the stone wall, on the very spot where she had flung her wedding ring into the valley below, a calm like she had not known in years spread over her. No more hiding. No more running. No more sleepless nights ridden with guilt, no more wondering if she even deserved what she had -- a man she loved who loved her back, who wanted to wed her, to stand beside her as she raised her children. And most of all, no more standing still out of fear that moving or doing would shatter her, shatter what precious little she had left. She had said to him what needed to be said, quietly acknowledged that it was a part of her that could not be changed. And now there was so much to accomplish, so much to see through, so much to begin. She would rouse the Mount now, remind them of what they had been and what they truly were. It could all begin again with her. She knew, now, who and what she was. She would, now, do her duty. -------------------------- Message 1363 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jan 16 11:39:18 2000 EST From: Darius_Lee (#10280) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Morning Coffee Darius Lee yawned slightly as she wandered into the R/T lounge for her daily cup of coffee. She pushed her shorn hair away from her face, still not sure if she likes her hair cut as she sat down on a bar stool and asked Osborrn for her usual, coffee spiked with a shot of whiskey. In her sleepiness she didn't notice the odd look that Osbornn gave her as he set her coffee before. Eventually her eyes wandered down the length of the bar to see the latest issue of the GhostWheel Times. "An amusing rag" she thought softly as she pulled it over to read its contents, her cup of coffee rising to her lips for another drink but halting in midair as her eyes widen increduously. A unlady like and unwolflike shriek escapes her lips as her coffee cup crashes to the floor an instant before Darius Lee herself crumbles in a dead faint. Osbornn pauses in the cleaning of the Bar's glasses to peer over the edge of the bar at the mess of spilled coffee, broken china, and passed out female to snort loudly, "Women", before returning to his task. -------------------------- Message 1364 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jan 19 22:25:50 2000 EST From: NightMask (#12805) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Purgatory Sleep held him shackled in darkness, his mind racing through the long years. Silence howled in his mind like a mad beast at the door, wanting in to rip out his throat. Years had past while he was dormant. Outside, a seismic disturbance was enough, the devices in his head decreased the amount of signals to induce sleep, and he became semi-conscious. "Who am I?" He thought that he had... Felt... Something stir within the other half of his mind, the electronic part. "Who am I?" A noise rang out through his universe, that being limited to his mind. A flash, then writing blazing like amber fire appeared: CybeliOS version 7.26 (Victory) Militech Systems Bootstrap code selected. . . Loaded. Support services for : Personality, Combat, Support AI : Are available. Loading all. !WARNING! Global Network Interface not available! Caliban Support AI not loaded! Inquiry engine loading... Loaded. Detached and running. Answer: Militech-DynArms XHC-1 Military Grade Cyborg. SN#XC6593020 "No", he says, "That is what you are... Who am _I_?" Answer: Col. Luc 'NightMask' Deveraux. He pondered the words, his memories racing... Flashes of other places and times, friends he had, enemies he had made. All gone now. His last waking memories came to mind, says his good byes to his team and to his Sensei, Dr. Tanaka. He had entered the ship they had designed, Dawn Treader. Take off had been flawless, the linear acceleration electronics had flared to life outside the exosphere, in hopes of carrying him back in the past. Instead, it seems to have carried him somewhere else. Regardless, the Dawn Treader was no longer in any shape to do anything, resting in a crater in what he believed to be the Sahara desert of this world. Other memories came to mind, of other times... He... Missed? His old companions... Waxx, FastJack, Flatliner, Draxx... He even had a partner in a business, he wondered how he was faring... Blade. For a moment, he even missed some of his enemies... The Inquisitor, mr. Simon, Dresden... People he had killed before. He had enjoyed killing. Now? He wasn't sure. The sleep came upon him again. Maybe this time, he would perchance to dream. -------------------------- Message 1365 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 20 01:00:44 2000 EST From: Melira (#18088) To: *storylines (#5236) It was all coming together so nicely... she couldn't help but smile to herself as the ship rocketed back toward N'Orleans. She was so cheerful about it, she was nearly bouncing in her seat. They had found an auctioneer in Grymdal, and once she got home she would attempt to contact Coreen to finalize a time and a location. Then all that remained was to make certain that as many people on the Wheel as possible knew about it. Devon's body, perhaps even his soul, would go for (she hoped) a hefty price. And she hoped more than anything else that the highest bidder would have splendid, lasting torture in mind. There were so many options, really. It was hard to say just what might happen. At this moment, it mattered little that Toraxyn seemed to think himself capable of getting to her -- ever again, let alone now that there was Byron. It hardly even mattered that Rathe was out and about again, and behaving more oddly than ever before. It was even a niggling irritation to her that Dante shot his mouth off at all speeds and volumes -- trying to hit her, really, who in all hells did he think he was, anyway? Nothing compared to the entertainment this auction would provide... and it was all coming together so very nicely. -- OOC: Yes. We are auction Devon off to the highest bidder. Details forthcoming. Save up your crystals, everybody! And if you need (or have) any suggestions for ways in which one might utilize him effectively [please limit responses regarding Devon & anything sexual.. let's get truly creative here] feel free to discuss them openly in public forums. HA! -------------------------- Message 1366 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 22 10:28:15 2000 EST From: Merri (#24667) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Circle Merri wandered outside the Complex, her mind trying to still itself so she could sink into sleep. The moon was up and full, casting it's shadow behind her. How she wished that she still had the lightheartedness that she had when she was younger. Then the moon had been her object of adoration; her symbol of the Lady. Now she was older, and a bit wiser, but only through all of the battering her heart had taken in the last 3 years. Taking a stick, she drew a circle around her in the arid dust of the land. Looking up at the moon, she murmured, "Hail and all honor to the Guardians of the Watchtower." Turning north, she almost whispered, "I am the gatekeeper of the North. I am the Warden of the Earth. I invoke the power of the Lady, Mother of the Earth." Reaching into her pocket, she found the salt and sprinkled it over the dust at her feet. Her voice gained confidence as she spoke the old familiar words. Turning West, she said, "I am the gatekeeper of the West, I am the Warden of the rivers, the lakes and the ocean. I invoke the power of Mannan MacLyr, Lord of the waves. Her hands fingered the small bottle of water. Opening it, she sprinkled it over the salt in the dust. Turning south, she raised her arms again and said, "I am the gatekeeper of the South, I am the warden of the Sun, I invoke the power of Sulis, Lady of the Dawn. She lit the candle and placed it at her feet, it's flame a tiny point of light. Finally turning to the east, she raised her voice, saying, "I am the gatekeeper of the East, I am the Warden of the Winds, I invoke the power of Rhiannon, Lady of the Birds." And reaching into her pocket she again grasped an object and dropped it at her feet; a glossy black raven's feather. Raising her arms once more, she gazed at the Moon, "And now I invoke the power of all the old ones. May their spirit enter me and give me wisdom. The Circle is complete. I have raised the Cone of Power. I entreat you to hear my plea!" -------------------------- Message 1368 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 22 13:51:34 2000 EST From: Eponine (#3791) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Sorry. No one save a Magus can undo the spells surrounding the Complex. Dante, please contact me before attempting such things in the future. Thank you. Either that or make sure your posts state what wards you're breaking. -------------------------- Message 1369 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 22 17:51:08 2000 EST From: Vertemis (#23360) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Bugs Life! The hot blaring sun was directly overhead, beaming it's radiation down on to Vertemis. He stood on the hill, a shovel in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. The cool water felt good, refreshing. He poured a little of his head, running his fingers through his hair. There was only a slight wind, just enough to blow sand in your eyes. Vertemis put his mirrored lenses on, glancing up and over the dunes. Nothing to be seen for miles.. well, nothing except this thing he had been digging up. He began early in the morning, the glint of metal had caught his attention from the cockpit of his mech. He spent 5 hours digging it up, and he still had no clue what it was. His closest guess was some sort of vehicle, something with wheels. It didn't really matter, he was just going to use it for parts anyway. The shovel slammed into the earth, pulling dirt and sand from the trench he had been digging around the object. That's when he heard the buzzing. It seemed quiet at first. A low pitched resonance. Then it seemed to get closer, louder. He realized it wasn't buzzing at all. It was clawing and screeching, and it was coming from under him. At the moment, he saw the first of it break through, a large chitonous legs breaking through the sand. Quickly the scene started to take shape, several more legs peeked through, and then the bodies. Vertemis glanced around, surrounding by large ant type creatures, and they didn't seem friendly. He counted them mentally, 6 ants. 1 Vertemis. He decided to waste no time. He pulled out his shotgun that had been strapped to his back and fired three rounds into the nearest insect. It stodd there, unaffected. Veretemis glanced at his now empty shotgun, and that's when the realization hit him. He threw his arms up into the air and started running in circles. "Ahhhhhhh!" he screamed in a high pitched school girl voice, flailing his arms about. After a few clockwise circles he ran out of the circle and over the dunes. After a few miles, he collapsed into the sand, and fell unconscious. -------------------------- Message 1370 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jan 23 17:47:44 2000 EST From: Oberon (#22725) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Druid's New Clothes The submariner peered thoughtfully into the mirror, turning around slightly and placing his hand over his chin, examining his clothes closely. "Hmmm...this leather outfit...how 2600. Perhaps a change in look, fung schwey if you will." Oberon moved quietly to his oaken desk, sliding into its comfortable chair. His hand took hold of his pen and paper, and he began to write a note to which he would put in the R/T. A note proclaiming the need for a taylor. -------------------------- Message 1371 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jan 23 17:49:41 2000 EST From: Oberon (#22725) To: *storylines (#5236) Oberon slipped quietly into the R/T, white out in hand. Glancing about to reassure that no one was near, he quickly blotted out taylor, and wrote tailor. -------------------------- Message 1372 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jan 24 13:49:46 2000 EST From: Tikiaido (#24781) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Nightmares The dream was horrible. Monstrous and destructive, and all-too-real. Tiki was in a very dark place, the only light for miles, it seemed, was a small spotlight above him, which seemed to make a cage around him. He did not want to leave the light, the small area seeming walled in darkness. Opressive, thick, closing darkness. Something started happening. His body twitched a little, skin crawling... and then it seemed to explode, rather violently, in to twisting, writhing, reshaping fury. The form's muscles bunched and stretched, leaving some of his bones stretched so thin with muscle that they could be seen through the skin, while others bunched so tightly that it seemed as if he were swolen badly from some form of poison. His eyes lost their wonderful glow, and became cold, black orbs, resting within an elongated, reshaped head, sitting atop a slightly lengthened neck. Bony spikes and plates began erupting from his skin, dragging flesh with it in a sick, hanging collage of biomatter. The new form's shattering scream was as far from anything human as could possibly be immagined. Then a shattering was heard and the light went out. Then he awoke, to the quiet, glittery gloom of his home. He let out a sigh of relief, and then shuddered, gibbering to himself, "What if this is an omen.... what if I've tried so hard to be human that I've pissed someone or some-THING off...?" -------------------------- Message 1373 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jan 24 19:24:13 2000 EST From: Venom (#20510) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: RAPE!!!!!!!!!!! Little Venom didn't know what to do. A sick fuck named Dante was running after him. Wanting to make use of him. Venom yelled and screamed, he didn't want his virgin asshole touched. He couldn't believe a sick man like Dante, a cowardly pedophile, would try such a move. Dante casted a spell, made Venom sleep. Then the sick bastard RAPED Venom. P.S. - Dante RAPED Venom. It was a sick display of Dante taking advantage of a young kid. So watch out for your kids. P.S.S- Venom thought Dante was sick, but for some gay reason Dante had sex with a young boy. DANTE NEEDS HELP.! -------------------------- Message 1374 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jan 25 14:20:14 2000 EST From: Merri (#24667) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A Discovery Merridwen sat in front of the computer monitor, a warm glow surrounding her. She had found it. And with it, another piece of the puzzle of her destiny fell into place. Her heart beat with pride as she read the lines: "This is the beginning of the story. One day, in the neighbourhood of his stronghold, Bran went about alone, when he heard music behind him. As often as he looked back, 'twas still behind him the music was. At last he fell asleep at the music, such was its sweetness. When he awoke from his sleep, he saw close by him a branch of silver with white blossoms, nor was it easy to distinguish its bloom from that branch. Then Bran took the branch in his hand to his royal house. When the hosts were in the royal house, they saw a woman in strange raiment on the floor of the house. 'Twas then she sang the fifty quatrains to Bran, while the host heard her, and all beheld the woman." Merri studied the lines....the white branch. She MUST find a way to bring the white branch back. -------------------------- Message 1375 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 28 21:36:17 2000 EST From: Anubis (#22578) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The burrow Anubis walked around the cave.. "Where the hell did I put that super acid pistol ammo." -------------------------- Message 1376 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 28 22:29:44 2000 EST From: Andi (#25000) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Getting ready for a Party She sang to herself as she wandered into the lounge with her poster in hand. She smiled and greeted others as she hung the poster up so everyone could see it. "This was going to be a great party," she thought to herself. I've been gone to long and had forgotten how much I loved this place." As Andi talked about the party she thought about the old times and people she once knew. She then grinned and thought that there was plenty of new people she could meet and that this party was a great way to do just that. Things had changed but that was okay. She was good at changing right along with the times. There were plenty of things she hoped to get done with this party besides getting to know people and since certain people didn't seem to be around to interupt things will probably go her way. She then grinned and went about trying to accomplish her first goal. -------------------------- Message 1378 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jan 30 22:30:23 2000 EST From: Darius_Lee (#10280) To: *storylines (#5236) Poe huddled against the bar in the R/T lounge with his twin sister Echo, their mother lying across the room in a puddle of her own blood--dead, as several mages continued to battle in the center of the room. A man who Poe had heard called 'Oberon', bashed another mage Coreen, over the head with a bar stool. Poe, overcome with anger, rushed forward and swung his small wooden sword at the man several times but the man just shrugged the blows away before leaning over to whisper softly, "You'd best leave now while the others are distracted". Poe started to object but then his mother's body collapsed into a pile of crystals. Poe's face ashened completely. He grabbed his twin's hand and dragged her out of the bar as fast as his six year old legs could carry him. Echo wheezed and coughed as she struggled to keep up with her brother, her skin hot and feverish from the mage sickness. Poe paused momentarily outside of the lounge, trying to gain his bearings, "Mommy came this way" he mumured to Echo before standing on the lift which dropped to the R/T basement. Poe pulled Echo behind him through the crowded hallways, grunting in pain as people jostled him roughly out of their way. The little boy clung to his sister's hand as he fought his way through the crowds. Poe stopped in the garage and pulled a shruddering Echo to him, as he looked around with fearful eyes. Poe looked around scared witless having no clue what to do next. He always had just followed his mother and had never really payed attention to what she did to make the ships arrive. The little boy jumped startled when someone layed a hand on his shoulder. He twisted around to see a large fat man leering down at him. Every instinct the boy had screamed at him in warning as the man leaned over towards Poe, his bulbous nose taking up nearly the entire range of Poe's vision, "Are you kids lost?" he asked in a scratchy voice. Poe shook his head rapidly backing up a thunderous roar echoed trough out the garage signaling the arrival of a ship. The fat man reached a hand for Echo as he gave Poe a wide smile, "why don't you youngin's come with me? I have candy..." But as the man's hand touch Echo her eyes flared sharply causing a sharp jolt of energy to surge from her to the fat man making him yelp angrily and jerk his hands away. Poe took advantage of the man's momentary surprise to grab Echo's hand once more and drag her onto the ship just as the doors sealed shut on the man's angry bellows Poe held a now almost completely incoherent Echo against him tightly as he huddled in a corner of the ship, riding it for several hours until it finally came to Jizo. Poe half dragged half carried Echo off the ship, tears streaming down his face. The little boy stopped and whiped them away with his sleeve angrily yelling silently at himself "I'm a man, I'm a man". Poe walked down the paths to home, exhuasted from the ordeal of the day and the weight of his sister. He finally reached the door to the house but was too short to reach the identilock and beside he didn't know the codes. Cold tired and hungry Poe sat down in a corner of the doorway, pulled his sister to him--her feverish skin providing warmth for the two of them as they waited silently for their father to come home. -------------------------- Message 1379 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jan 30 23:11:01 2000 EST From: Desecration (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: ... Off in the distance, the coyotes howled at a bleak, dreary moon, the light given from the dirty sphere casting dull shadows on the desolate mound of dirt. The coyotes scattered, running as a large hulking machination of metal and energy crashed with an earth shattered boom into the hill. Sparks flew from severed electrical wires; the whine of melted servos faded into the night as the machine stood haphazardly. "Tis the end, my elemental monstrosity." the voice echoed far and wide as the machine erupted in a new shower of sparks. "Thou hast fought like a noble warrior -- and for that, I shall give you and your pilot a quick and painless execution." the figure that appeared from a new shower of sparks laughed coldly, its hands glowing a pale blue. The machine struggled as it raised a twisted mass of steel towards the figure. The whirring of the turret as its multiple barrels unleashed the last of its reserve was all that was heard, as the bullets merely whisped through the figure as if the bullets were a breeze. The figure laughed again. The machine stumbled as it attempted a slow walk towards the shadow, its left leg dragging -- crippled and useless. From the figures hands, a blast of ice cascaded towards the chest plate, splitting the protective armor into numerous pieces, exposing the vital components of the 'mech. Another blast, and the mech collapsed into the sands, winds quickly making haste of the exposed components, covering them in a maize hue. The figure leapt nimbly on the cockpit, looking through the cracked and shattered glass. The pilot sat in his chair, sharpnel from the instrument panel disfigured his face into unrecognizability. His chest heaved as the lingering breaths issued forth from pale, bloody lips. "It ends here, pilot." the mage spoke solemnly. "You death will be just as quick." The mage touched his fingertip to his forehead, and pointed towards the pilot. The steel around the cockpit collapsing, forming an intricate coffin of steel and wiring. The mage leapt again from the mech, and slowly made his way east, towards the now rising sun. -------------------------- Message 1380 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Feb 1 20:30:42 2000 EST From: Dante (#10660) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Painting of a tapestry. The lights of the dungeon flickered as the adept looked over his creation, what was left of her body was barely recognizable. He had begun rather slowly, first he needed to loosen the flesh of her body, through he was quite sure she would not have survived the beating the fact she still lived even now was unimportant. His own blade rested against the far wall, the coldfire still clinging to the surface of the hardened steel. He had thought that Coreen might not care what he did to this one, but it was something more then hatred that drove Dante this night. Amusement spread across his face as he used the remnants of the adept's now shattered body as pieces of living art. The hair bound, the blood used for the paint he slowly spread the torn flesh of her body across a truly skeletal frame. His masterpiece slowly took shape, the shattered jaw and the death-borne face still frozen in what would appear to be pain, if not fear as well. Pain was not this goal, but more beauty, and with this he held his finished artwork in two hands and walked out of the dungeon, leaving the now dead woman's flesh to collapse into dust. -------------------------- Message 1381 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Feb 2 22:13:44 2000 EST From: Melira (#18088) To: *storylines (#5236) Not surprisingly, she was more utterly enraged than anything else. She was meant to have been Dante's bargaining chip, and almost certainly meant to have been his toy. He had succeeded in the latter, and failed in the former -- or so it seemed. It was hard, just now, to tell how any of it had panned out, really. All Melira knew was that he had caused her tremendous pain, he had cost her a good rapier and an even better gown, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. The most important and infuriating fact of all was that he had utterly humiliated her, both publicly and privately, and for that... well, the Adept would sure as all hells pay. She winced as she ran her mind over the events of the other evening... she had known better than to try anything foolish with magicks, and so had chosen to try to stall him with her blade. In the end, that same gown that she ended up losing had cost her the battle. She could only scoff at herself now, and admit that she nearly deserved it for choosing fashion over functionality. But even that did not excuse the fact that Dante had treated her as an object, an object purely for -his- gain and amusement. It would have been one thing if she'd allowed him to do so... but this, this was another thing entirely. He would pay, though. She could only afford to lick her wounds for a day or two, but just as soon as it was possible for her to do so, she would rally every potential ally she had behind her. And somehow, someway, she would find a way to Dante. If she had to shake his fool tower down around his head, student by student, she would find a way to make him crawl. And she would not be standing alone. Dante was one sick art connosieur who would regret his oh-so-clever little hobby. And how. -------------------------- Message 1383 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Feb 3 02:17:34 2000 EST From: Shandryl (#24740) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: and end and a beginning Shandryl was so excited that at last, after a year, she would again see her husband. Was it really a whole year since he got the message that he must leave her for a time to seek out information on someone from his past? Only married a few days, it was a lonely and painful wait, but at least she had her son to keep her from going crazy. Imagine, to think that Ymerith didn't know she was with child when he left! Shandryl allowed a smile at the thought. Nothing mattered anymore, Johnny Walker Kiva was coming home!!!! As Shandryl stirred the stew cooking in the pot in the fireplace she felt Ymerith at the door. Turning to greet him, she stopped in her tracks. This man could _not_ be her husband! He looked broken and beaten. A full beard graced his lined face, the dirt of the road driven deep in the crevices. His soul and joy was gone, replaced by a solomn demeanor. He wouldn't look into her eyes. In short, he never even spoke as he entered the home and sat at the dinner table. Shandryl served the meal in silence. The air was heavy enough to cut with her knife. They ate in silence. Shandryl sensed whatever was about to happen was going to change her life forever. After the table was cleared, Shan sat back down, and attempted to take her husband's hand and get him to look up. When he finally did, what she saw sickened her to the bone. The ring she had formed for him to celebrate their marriage was gone. In its place was another ring. When her eyes caught his, he looked away, still saying nothing. She let go of his hand, his limp and unfeeling hand, and she stood. Staring into the fire, Shan felt something stir deep within her very core. Her eyes became black as coal, all life gone from them. The fire suddenly roared to life, a huge bonfire ablaze in the fireplace. And just as suddenly, it was dead. Nothing remained but black ash and soot. The room was cold as ice. The breath of the couple could be seen hanging in the air. Shan's jaw tensed, her body rigid. She had clamped her hands so tightly together, the nails dug into her palms and the trickle of blood dripped on the floor. The blood smoked and boiled as it hit the bare wood, almost as if it was acid. The Shandryl that had been was now no more. In her place was a cold and empty shell. The only sign that she was still alive was the red blood still dripping on her skirt. Raising her fist to her face, Shandryl licked the drop of blood, and a sneer played on her lips. Without saying another thing, she grabbed her cloak... and walked out, not looking back. Behind was her old life, her son with no name, and the shell of what was her love. Shandryl had no need for dreamers, for the feel of the wind on her cheek as she rode the dragon behind her husband. Even though it was raining, she couldn't smell the wet trees and grass. Nothing mattered now but the journey that lay ahead. --------------------------