❧ 𝕴esting 𝕴hread

[Midwinter Hearts]

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════════════════════ ♚ ════════════════════

I drown myself in sᴏʀʀᴏᴡs and ᴀɴɢᴇʀ
For in that faraway look in your eyes
are the scᴀʀs I bore in the battle of the red cliff.

[Midwinter Hearts]

Through the darkness of the house, a single thread of music drifted, woven on the strings of a mellow violin. Moonlight filtered in through the windows, casting shadows across the old radio, which sat alone on a side table. It was always on during these kinds of evenings, playing one genre of music or another. The master of the house liked to experiment, you see, to discover the different atmospheres and sensations each song could create. For each song is like a spice, strengthening the taste of pleasure on one's tongue. And the master found today, much to his delight, that the sound of French music was especially sweet. Or perhaps the girl he had tonight was just a good one.

Her name was Clara. Clara Reeves. He liked to know their names, if only to whisper the words in their ears, voice soft with reassurance even as the knife bit into their flesh. How delightful it was too feel them shiver beneath his breath, to hear the sobs strangled in their throats.

This one was stubborn. For three weeks, she had sat in his basement, one foot chained to the wall, with no knowledge of day or night, no hope of escape or rescue. She'd pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, holding herself tightly. Since he had captured her, he had never heard her screamed again, or whimper, or beg. She simply sat on the flood, staring all day at a single point on the ground, as if staring long and hard enough would eventually burn a hole in the ground and set her free. How that amused him. He let her live, visiting her every day after work to ask her how she was, to remind her daily that her life now belonged to him, to whittle away at her defiant hope until there was nothing left but dust. It didn't matter to him how long the game lasted. Victims were like wine to him: the longer you left them in the cellar, the better they would taste when you finally decided to consume them. There was only one thing that irked him: though Clara had full access to a bath, she absolutely refused to use it, and if there was one thing that got under his skin, it was filth. For a while, he had tolerated it, unwilling to mar her loveliness so soon, but eventually he had flown into a fury and beat her, forcing her into the tub. She hadn't cried then, either, but he imagined the experience must ahve been terrifying for her. Absolutely horrifying.

Because only a few days later, he'd returned from work to find her face streaked with fresh tears and her eyes dull with hopelessness and abject fear.

Broken. He'd finally broken her.

And oh! how lovely her screams sounded, entwined with the music of Satie. His heartbeat quickened, pounding with excitement, with lust, with the sheer pleasure of crushing someone's life in his own hands, of feeling the girl's terror pumping through his veins. Didn't she know that the more she whimpered, the more he wanted to kill her? The harder he wanted to tear into her, to rip her to shreds, to smash her beauty until there was nothing left?

But he didn't tell her that. Perhaps next time he would, if only to see what kind of reaction that would produce. He loved so much to experiment, after all. But for now, he simply savoured the sweet, sweet sound of music on his ears.


- - - - -


She sat, propped against the wall, head leaning against the side of the dumpster. Blond hair, filthy with grime and who knew what else, fluttered from underneath the dark hood whenever a lonely breeze was brave enough to weave its way down the alley. Not many people came through here, especially not under the cloak of night. One look at the homeless woman, huddled against the trash can, wrapped in all she had in the world, was enough to deter most people from venturing in.

And fortunate for them as well.

Because pulling back the hood, one would not find the old, weather-worn face of a vagrant woman, or even a face at all. There was nothing there but a shredded mess of flesh and blood, two leering white eyeballs, and a maw devoid of teeth.

Most people would drop the hood then, back away against the opposite wall, and scream with all their lungs had to give them, but if anyone were brave enough to lift the coat that covered the victim's right hand, they would have found that it lacked its little finger, just like the right hand of the six victims who had come before her. ❖

[Midwinter Hearts]

Sorry for the late reply. I've been so busy lately. ><
If only one of us really exists? . . . [/pulls out a shotgun] Sorry, Jules. Ain't going to be me who's disappearing.
XD In all seriousness though, I entertain weird thoughts too--like the idea of two separate dimensions. Have you ever looked into a mirror and thought, "What if it's not me who's controlling my own actions, but the person in the mirror, and I just don't realize that I'm only its reflection?" Or sometimes I think that my reflection is bound to me, but it has its own mind, so it's constantly judging what I do. @-@
This really could be our onexone. XD It's certainly long enough to be one. I'm actually almost the same one--only dedicating myself to one or two rps at a time. Though sometimes my friends drag me into other ways. I just can't say no. >< But the onexone I have with Tina is actually just a background story for Liu Yun and the king of Lang, so I guess that could still count as the same rp as Against Fate. (As for the one with Vince, that was the most random thing that happened in Skype, and I think we're both BSing it. @.@). Same here! I don't know how you can ever get bored (well, I suppose reading a dry textbook can be boring). I have so many things to do, it's impossible to be bored. And if I didn't have anything to do, I wouldn't mind just sitting down and staring at the window. Sometimes I wish I had more time to do that. I don't think it's that obvious! At least, it never occurred to me. xP It's a really good point though! I don't look to my friends at all because I'm always writing or doing homework or whatever, and I always thought that made me cold-hearted, but I suppose if everyone else had their own solitary hobbies, they wouldn't need other people either. I like your take on the cats and dogs thing too. And it seems really true, especially since most dog-lovers, when arguing over which is the better pet, will almost always say, "Dogs love you more and spend more time with you." It's a bit like when someone dies. When you cry for that person, are you crying for them, or are you crying for yourself and the fact that you'll never have this person again?

It's definitely easier to talk to someone who's not ready to judge you! At least, it makes you less scared to say something, which usually leads to longer conversations. xP And I agree. Everyone judges to some extent, but the difference is whether or not that person is willing to listen to the other side of the story and wholeheartedly put themselves in the other person's shoes. And that's what really matters, I think. Because the world is so different and varying. Nothing is black and white, so you can't expect everyone to fall neatly into the same boxes and categories you have. I think everyone has a reason for what they do, whether that reason is good or bad, and it's worth listening to the reason before you judge. (I'll admit that I can be a bit of a hypocrite here, because there are just some people that I can't, I absolute can't, bring myself to understand their point of view. In fact, thinking about them still makes me mad [/sighs] ).

Relevant in the Birdwatchers, or in Latter Days? Because I haven't watched either. XD But I wouldn't mind spoilers, because I tend to forget what they are anyway. ahah

Yes, every time we watch an old film, someone always remarks how innocent the actors seem compared to now! Though I suppose "innocent" might not be the right word? To me, they seem much more gentle and calm. I can't believe schools are using iPads now!! I, for one, am against it. I prefer textbooks, if only because you can't procrastinate on them. When you have an electronic device right in front of your face, you're so much more likely to do something besides homework. I heard about the bionic contact lenses, but I didn't think they were actually trying to create it. Maybe I'm just a oldie/traditionalist, but all these crazy advances in technology sort of scare me. @.@ I think there's a limit to just how much technology we should have in our lives. Otherwise, we might all go insane or something. I actually have an iTouch, and sometimes I bring work to finish on long car rides, because there's just so much time. But I end up staring out the window for the first 45 minutes, and then when I finally get myself to work, I write a sentence and look up again. x3 I rarely ever listen to my iPod because I'd have to turn the volume up so loudly to hear it, and I don't want to damage my ears.

It is pretty random. @-@ Well, actually I don't know if he likes me back, but the thing is, I stopped seeing him since last Lunar New Year because of drama, and he hadn't talked to me since. Then suddenly, shortly after his group of friends dissolved and his life is crashing down, he facebooked me, and I'm still not quite sure how to react to that. I've talked to two people about it, who made me feel better and more worried about it. x3 But at least I probably won't have to see him until Lunar New Year again.

The idea of free tuition is amazing! The annual tuition in Quebec, where my cousins live, is $3,000 annually which is absolutely incredible to me. Like you said, the stories of student debt are horrifying and sadly too common--or they prevent people from getting an education in general. College isn't the only route to go in life, of course, but it's certainly a much stabler path than the other ones, in terms of the opportunities open to you. Religion really does play a major role in America, which is ironic, considering that the first pilgrims came here in search of religious freedom. It seems to me that almost every celebration/ceremony in America has religion woven into it somehow, like when you take the oath in court.
I haven't heard too much about Europe. x3 The first thing that comes to mind is that their food regulations are much better than they are over here, and the serving sizes are significantly smaller, which accounts for why people over there tend to be healthier than Americans. Plus, they tend to walk to places, rather than drive cars.

Your friend . . . can't imagine anything? That . . . really is sad. I can't fathom the idea of not imagining anything because I just imagine so many things. Imagining/spacing out is what I do 25% of my day, for better or for worse.

My mom is well-educated! Well, she only went to college in America for a year or two, I think, but she read a lot of literature as a girl and was very observant. Because China conquered Vietnam for 1000 years, most of our ancient stories are either China's stories, or involve China in some way. That's partly why I know so many Chinese stories. The other reason is probably because my mom grew up in a very strict Chinese family. She doesn't play music, but she sings!
Oooh what kind of creepy stories? I'm easily scared, but I love scary stories anyway. The thrill of being terrified just . . . feels so good. XD
My family also does gua sha too! Except in Vietnamese we call it "cao gio," which literally translate to "scraping out the wind." There was a time when I had to do it for my mom almost every day, so I'm pro at it. But I hate having it done to myself. @-@ It's like torture because I'm so ticklish, and I'm reduced to praying that it would hurt more. Pain is much easier to deal with than tickling.

I think you did a great job of organizing. XD
Shan Jie would actually lend Cao Xin his uniform. What an irresponsible guy. >.> I imagine he would be hesitant in the beginning, but if Cao Xin convinced him that he was going to use it in the name of justice, he wouldn't mind. And even if Cao Xin got in trouble with it, as long as he was doing the "right thing" but just messed up on accident, Shan Jie would forgive him. agghhhh he's so forgiving and naive. He should be named grass heart instead. x.x
Oh by the way, Shan Jie came to Moonlight Village 2 years ago, too, around the same time Cao Xin came to Hu. But since no one in Hu knows Cao Xin's origins, I'm guessing that Cao Xin arrived in Hu before Shan Jie went missing, right?
I thought Cao Xin didn't fit his name at all. XD ahah Guess he has a bit of a soft heart himself. That would certainly put him in a odd position . . . and with Dai Yu on the other side, I imagine he'd get beaten up by her too. x.x Yes! They should go drinking one of these days! Shan Jie would love that (he has a penchant for wine) . . . though I thought Cao Xin can't hold his liquor?

That's such an awesome idea!!! I didn't realize lime water could cause burns like that. By lime, do you mean the fruit? I guess I don't put that much lime juice in my lemonade (or is lime-nade?), but that's still a scary thought. .___. Shan Jie is actually really protective of Xun, so he wouldn't willingly show Cao Xin his scars, and he wouldn't approve of Cao Xin doing that. But there's plenty of ways to see them anyway. I'm surprised he's managed to hide them for this long, considering he's a guy. x3 If anything, he's probably going to get badly wounded again so there's an opportunity. And Shan Jie doesn't need to know about the lime water until after it happens. XD I, for one, would really love to see it happen, if only because that would be the most hilarious thing ever.

Ahah, thanks. x) I wasn't expecting that because that first post was so long ago. And I know what you mean about the others feeling left out. That's why I refrain from complimenting people, but since no one wants to read our long conversations, it's perfectly safe to say them here. XD I was wondering why you picked the war chief's son when you have no experience with romance. [/recalling the movie comment in the ooc] And Zemin doesn't seem gay to me. He just seems . . . super confused. It seems more like a bromance. XD . . . I don't know if that's a good thing. >.>

Also, I'm so sorry. I'm so bad at cutting back on my messages. I'll try even harder next time. ><

p.s. I just remembered. Depending on how close the two of them are, Cao Xin might notice that Shan Jie does strange things (because he has to try so hard to hide his scars), so maybe that might pique his curiosity? I know that Shan Jie's guard buddies tease him about it a lot (though there's an unspoken agreement that they never do it when there's a new person there), except for the one friend who knows the half-truth. ><

Little Enchanter

[Midwinter Hearts]

Ashburton Ripper? Really now? After all his hard work, they were going to dub him such a generic name? He had to admit, he was a bit disappointed. But what could he have expected? These were journalists, not novelists.

A contemptuous smirk quirked up the corners of his mouth. He reached for his cup of morning coffee, eyes raking over the rest of the article. Surprisingly, the details of the mutilation had been left vague and unspecific, only mentioning that the victim had been discovered faceless and missing a little finger. Personally, he would have loved to see more of the gory details--it was always so entertaining to read exaggerations of his work--but then again, he supposed that most people would hate to leave for work with such horrible imagery printed in their eyes. A shame, really, but oh well. To each one's own.

And besides, even without those descriptions, the newspapers had done exceedingly well in spreading the terror not only throughout the city of Ashburton, but also throughout the entire county and even the cities that lie around it. A tense, almost visible fear had fallen over the people, affecting them in their daily lives. Children no longer played out in the front yard after dark, few persons roamed the streets at night, whether alone or with a group of friends. When workers returned from a tiring day of labour, they kept their heads down, quickly rushing home instead of hanging around and loitering as they once had.
What they didn't know, though, was that he didn't pick his victims at random. The girl who hung out on the streets of a bad neighborhood was much, much more likely to get killed amidst the crossfire of two gangs than to be murdered by him. He simply had too high of standards for his victims, and most of the world didn't even come close to meeting them.

As he prepared to turn the page, something caught his eye, staying his hand. An ad, tucked neatly at the bottom of the page.
He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

Now here was an interesting twist.

There was no doubt that the ad was addressed to him. If the subject didn't already give it away, the street address certainly did. Choosing the address of the last dump site--how much more obvious could it be?

And wait. . . . He peered closely at the name, his brow furrowing in concentration. He recognized that name. He hadn't paid it much attention when it had appeared under the giant headlines, but its second appearance struck a chord deep in his memory. He took another sip of coffee, sifting through his file cabinet of memories, of people and images. . . .

Ahah! He remembered now. Jamal Cadorette. Outgoing. Dark features. Dark complexion. He'd been a student in his human biology class, probably one of the many who had taken the course simply to fill a GE requirement. As soon as the connection was made, the image of the young college student fell into place. While the professor wasn't exactly great with names, he had a knack for remembering faces, especially the striking, beautiful ones, and in the case of Cadorette, he could recall almost every single feature.

From outside, the sound of paws pattering across the wooden porch floated in through the open window. He looked up briefly, catching sight of his three Dobermans, who had finished up their breakfast and were now dashing after an unfortunate squirrel. It was almost time to head off to work, he realized.

Downing the coffee, he took a few seconds to memorize the phone number (writing it down could cause problems for him later on if the police ever suspected him) before folding up the newspaper and leaving it on the kitchen counter. He wasn't quite sure what to think about the ad, other than to be extremely amused. Making himself a prime target for a serial killer . . . either the kid had serious balls, or he lacked a brain completely.

The professor hoped it was the former. After all, this could turn out to be quite a bit of fun. For now, he didn't plan on calling Jamal. Let the kid spend each and every day sweating in apprehension, jumping at every ringtone that sounded, suspecting every person that walked by him. Not that many people ever read these newspaper ads, he knew, but he was sure that some jerk would and would proceed to torment Jamal Cadorette with ridiculous prank calls. And then, once Jamal got tired to waiting, once Jamal thought the Ashburton Ripper had missed his ad, once the wave of disappointment and relief had swept over him, then would he be getting the call he was awaiting. Or perhaps something a little less expected and little more impressing. ❖

[Midwinter Hearts]

The idea came to him quite fatefully one day, when he returned home from the grocery store, with three heavily filled bags in each hand. Walking up to his door, he put the bags down and reached into his pocket, intending to retrieve his key, only to stop and stare. At his feet lay a tiny kitten, pitifully dead, its ginger fur matted with blood and saliva. A sigh of exasperation escaped his lips.

"Which one of you did this?" he asked, turning around to face his three dogs. While he didn't care what they killed or how they did it (what kind of person would he be if he did?), he would have very much appreciated it if they didn't leave their victims at his doorstep. It was filthy and potentially problematic if any expected guests were to drop by. He'd thought he'd made that point very clear. The scars, after all, still shone faintly on his dogs' backs, and it had been years since a dead animal had shown up on his porch. But he supposed that once the noose was loosened, nature was bound to go wayward again.

The Dobermans stared back at him, their black eyes unflinchingly intent on him. None of them moved, nor made a sound. That was strange. Usually, that casual tone of voice, so lightly tinged with malice that it almost always went undetected, terrified them. Never would they dare to look at him in such a way. He knelt down in front of Dornier, the alpha amongst his dog, and asked, his voice cool and coaxing as ever, "Which one?"

A whimper rose up from the dog's throat, his fur began to rise on end, but still he maintained his level gaze.

Now that was strange indeed.

But he was in too good of a mod to let this one offense ruin it. He'd caught sight of Jamal Cadorette earlier that day on campus, instantly noting the pale face and the dark circles ringing the boy's eyes. It didn't take a physician to know that the boy was suffering from sleep deprivation. Or fear. Or an unhealthy obsession over a serial killer. What a shame that he hadn't chosen Professor Harrison Tyler for one of his classes that semester. It would have been entertaining to watch him fail, to watch the apprehension eat at him and leave him a half-dead shell.

A large hand clapped around Dornier's muzzle, shaking it just hard enough to get the message across, before smacking the dog across the head. "Do it again, and I'll beat you."

The dogs only whimpered.

Satisfied, Harrison stood up and returned to his groceries. As he stepped over the corpse, however, he suddenly remembered something. A conversation. With his dogs. Because he, like every normal dog owner, talked to his dogs when he was debating a problem. Like the problem of replying to Jamal Cadorette the proper way.

"Clever, clever boy," he said with a smile, and he picked the cat up.


- - - - -


In the darkness he sat, under the dim light of the lamp, with a cat cradled in his lap. While he was a bit obsessive compulsive about neatness, he was also a pack rat. Things filled his attic, his cellar, his extra storage rooms, albeit in an excessively organized manner. There was a use for everything, he believed. Everything had the potential for murder and art.

Underneath the lamplight, the sewing needle glinted, then disappeared, then glinted again, forming crude words with the green guttermann thread he had found in his cellar. He was faster now, after going through half a dozen cats, but the process was still slow and grueling. Stitching flesh had never been a simple task, especially while wearing gloves, a precaution that he was forced to take. He was patient, though--abnormally patient, according to his ex-wife, to the point where it had frightened her and eventually driven her away. That, along with several other things.

Yes. After six cats, he was better now. The words looked back at him, beautifully formed, dark green against the shaved pink flesh of the cat. What would Jamal think? Would he appreciate his hard work? Or would he be horrified? Would he back away and scream? The thought made the professor smile. "Jamal. Jamal Cadorette," he murmured softly to himself, to the dead cat, to the darkness of the room, already tasting the boy's fear on his tongue, already feeling the tremors of pleasure and excitement race through his body.

He wished he could see the look on Jamal's face when he opened the present.


- - - - -


Rain slapped against her windshield. On both sides of the road, trees formed an imposing wall, stretching their boughs high into the night sky. Storm clouds blotted out the thin sliver of a crescent moon. On the long highway road, the blue Honda Accord was alone, and broken.

Chewing on her bottom lip. Valerie Iverson stared at the screen of her cell phone, willing the damn device to get signal. It was hopeless, though. She'd been staring for six minutes, and still the bars remained nonexistent.

"********," she cried, punching the side of the steering wheel and thumping her head so hard against it that the car honked. She wanted to cry, to hug herself and wallow in self-pity because self-pity always felt so good. Instead, she opened her car door and went back out into the rain. It didn't matter. She was already soaked and cold and miserable. Trudging to the front of the car, she threw open the hood again, hoping that somehow, after six minutes, she now had the knowledge of how to fix a car. . . . The engine still looked like a labyrinth of unidentifiable parts to her. Damn, she'd wished she'd paid more attention during those times her dad had gone on and on about car repair. "Just because you're a girl doesn't mean you can't learn how to repair a car. You can't rely on me to fix everything." Damn it, why did her dad always have to be right??

She slammed the hood shut, then out of the corner of her eye, a light appeared. Headlights.

Her stomach twisted with apprehension. Hurriedly she made her way back into the safety of her car, her hands shaking not only from cold. It sucked to be a girl. It really did. Because the darkness held more monsters for girls than it did for boys, and she could never know for sure if the person who stopped his car behind hers, whose feet splashed the growing puddles of rainwater as he approached her door, could be trusted.

Cautiously, she rolled down her window to get a better look at the newcomer (her car was that old), and a wave of relief swept over her. The man outside looked to be in his mid-thirties. A neatly pressed dress shirt and a pair of black slacks donned his lean frame, and a crease had formed between his brow in what looked like genuine concern. Definitely not a suspicious-looking character.

"You okay there, Miss?" he asked.

"My car broke down all of a sudden," she sputtered. "I'm not sure what's wrong with it."

"Would you like me to take a look?"

"Yes, please," she nodded, heart still fluttering. She hadn't realized until then just how terrified she had been. Thank goodness this man had found her, and not some creepy guy. Even if he couldn't do anything to fix her car, at least someone was there with her.

"Hold my umbrella for me." He passed the large black umbrella to her, which she clumsily took as she got out of her car.

"What's your name?" she asked, staring down at the damned engine of her car for the third time in the last thirty minutes.
"Harrison Tyler. But you can call me Harrison."
"Oh. I'm Valerie. Valerie Iverson."

"I would say 'nice to meet you,' but I'm sure you're not happy to meet me like this." He looked up briefly from the car to smile jokingly at her, something she appreciated greatly. Her nerves were still quite rattled, and the smile had done well to calm them some. She smiled back, a strained albeit genuine smile, then moved closer to see whatever it was that Harrison was studying.

She never saw it coming. The fist in her face. The darkness that came. Or the horror that would follow.


- - - - -


In the needle went, and out, and in, and out again, glistening with lovely red. One hand lay pressed against the canvas, holding it down as it writhed in desperate terror.

"Please! Please! Please! I don't want to die!"

Tears ran down her face. Her hands and feet struggled against their bonds, to no avail.

He pulled the thread taut through her flesh, and a terrible, blood-curdling wail erupted from her lips. Her naked body arced beneath his hands, trying, trying so hand to alleviate the pain. "No! Mommy. Mommyyyy. God. Please! Please!"

But there was no God here to save her. No God here to hear her cries.

In the needle went, and out again, forming beautiful red words. Just for you, they said. Just for you.


- - - - -


Still waiting? the cat asked, as it lay frozen in its cardboard coffin. Still waiting? as it stared up at the black ceiling where the face of its new master would soon appear. How happy would he be to see it, to read the message sewn into its flesh? It was so lonely here, with nothing to keep it company, save for a small note that spelled out in cut-out letters:


ＡＮＮＵＳ
ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｄｅｃｅａｓｅｄ
☀
ｗｈｏ ｓｅｅｓ ｔｈｅ ＭＯＮＳＴＥＲ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｃｉｔｙ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｅｎｄ ｏｆ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ
☀
Ｂｅｌｏｖｅｄ Ｌｉｔｔｌｅ Ｖｉｃｔｉｍ Ｄｉｅｓ


and a cell phone that just wouldn't stop ringing.

Shut up, the cat would have said, if it'd had a mouth to talk, a life to think.

Oh, but I'm crying, the cell phone would have replied. You want your master, but I just lost mine. She's all alone now, with all her dreams broken and all her life gone. No one to find her. No one to give her peace. All alone on a boulevard of broken dreams.

My master will find her, would have replied the cat, So shut up. ❖



OoC// Okay, Vince, it's long, and a bit rushed because I got tired, and a bit weird because I got bored >.> Have fun with that. If you can't figure it out, I'll try to explain it to you.

[Midwinter Hearts]

For two long weeks, a suffocating tension hung over the palace, infecting the hearts of every inhabitant. The halls were silent, save for the wary, frantic whispering that went on between friends. Heads remained bowed, eyes stayed fixed on the ground. Though the king of Lang had always been a terrifying figure, things had never been like this . . . at least not since the death of Lang's queen. The unexpected disappearance of Princess Yuan and the sudden execution of her personal guards had left the palace rattled, but that was only the beginning.

Four days after the messenger had left to deliver the new orders to Commander Yingzi, the servants had busied themselves with serving dinner to the royal family, as they did every night. A feast lay spread out across the great wooden dining table. Serving boys stood at the diners' elbows, waiting nervously for every command. Beside the doorways and along the tapestry-lined walls, guards stood, their backs erect and their faces stern. One step out of line . . . and that could mean death.

The king drained his cup of wine, set it down on the table, and instantly a serving girl rushed forward to refill it. Her hands shook violently, but she succeeded and stepped back, letting out an inaudible sigh of relief. She had barely straightened up when the sound of shattering porcelain broke the relative quiet of the room.

Everyone froze. No one dared to make a sound, not even the unfortunate servant boy who had dropped the platter. He could only stare down at his feet, at the mess of minced carp and shards of white china.

The king did not turn his head to look, nor did the cold expression on his face change in the slightest. There was no need to utter a command. Everyone wants to live, even at the expense of another life.

As if on cue, two guards rushed forward and grabbed the boy by the arms, breaking him from his moment of shock. "No, wait!" he begged, his face drained of whatever blood had been left to it. Terror burned wildly in his dark eyes. "Please! Please, forgive me!"

But it was no use. Leaving him in the room meant to risk incurring the wrath of the king upon everyone's head, and no one wanted to die, even at the cost of another's pain. They dragged him sobbing through the doorway, heedless of his cries, and as soon as they were out of sight, the other servants dropped to their knees beside the broken dish, hurriedly sweeping up the mess and polishing the marble floor until it shone as it had before.

All the while, the king spoke not a single word.

Several more accidents occurred in the following days, all of them dealt with in the exact same manner, no orders needed. Each and every offender whipped bloody until they could not even stand, until their crying ceased and they fell unconscious. How ironic it was that, in their fear, they brought upon their own heads more torment, more terror, sinking deeper and deeper into the festering pool of apprehension. Humans were always a funny lot.

Two long weeks passed before Commander Yingzi and his army returned, either to free them or to doom them. It was not too much of an exaggeration to say that everyone anxiously awaited the news.

The king sat on his throne like a living god, bathed in the gold of his robes and the gold of his intricate throne. His one good eye glared coolly down the flight of stairs, black with menacing calm. How was it that he was the same boy whom everyone had pitied, had underestimated and thought would never gain the throne? The heavens worked in strange ways, did they not? But he had never believed that. What he had, he'd earned himself, through his own blood and sweat and tears. The heavens had dealt him a lesser hand, and he had prevailed despite it. He did not need the heavens to tell him what he could or could not do.

A tremor of shock ran through his body when his chief commander presented himself. His eyes narrowed, taking in the sight of the older man and the new scars he now bore. No, to say only that was an understatement. Yingzi Chai-Ling looked like a monster, with his blistering red skin, with half his hair burned away to reveal a horribly burned scalp.

But it was not horror that followed the wave of shock, nor was it pity or disgust. It was fear for his daughter, for when he tore his eyes from the hideously disfigured man, he found that he could not see his daughter anywhere. It would have been impossible to miss her, when she always loved to make such an entrance for himself. And if Yingzi had returned to him in this way, then . . .

"Where is Princess Yuan?" he asked, his voice slipping into a threatening snarl.

[Midwinter Hearts]

In the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the pain and fire and lack of understanding, Shan-Jie smiled, a small, weak smile that barely pulled up the corners of his mouth. But it was a smile nonetheless, because Liang was here. Liang, whom he had looked up to for twelve long years. Liang, who had saved him from his utter despair. As long as she was here, it didn't matter that he didn't know where he was, or that he couldn't move his body, or that the cold was biting deeper and deeper into his bones. As long as she was here, he could believe that everything would be okay.

When the darkness came to take him away, he was happy. Purely, innocently happy. And perhaps if he had died then, it would have been for the better, because he would never be this happy again, not until the heavens had destroyed nearly everything he had.


- - - - -


"Big Brother! Big Brother!"

Shan-Jie whipped around, desperately trying to pinpoint the direction of the voice. Around him, the houses blazed, a giant labyrinth of fire, and the sky above rippled with smoke and ash.

"Big Brother! Please save me!" she cried. All the terror she could have ever felt, all the terror the world could have ever given, was poured into those five few words.

He ran, ignoring everything. The flames, the corpses, the pain that grew greater and greater in his chest with each ragged breath he took. What did it matter to him? He couldn't let her die. He couldn't. Because he knew that terror himself. He knew what it was like to be trapped in a wall of fire, to watch the very people he loved cut down before his eyes. He knew what it was like to have his childhood ripped from him, his innocence crushed to dust, his life torn apart and drenched in swallowed tears and wine. He knew all that, and he couldn't let her suffer that way. Even if he had to give his own life, he would.

Her house loomed before him, red and orange and yellow against the backdrop of a glowing sky. Sobs echoed throughout the village, pounding against his ears like the roar of a river.

"Wu Xue!" he screamed.

He threw himself against the door, taking the brunt of the force with his shoulder. It wouldn't budge. Again he tried, and again, and again, and again, and each time the door only shook and would move no more. And all the while, he could hear her chanting: I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

Please. Tears ran down his face now. He threw himself at the door once more, and this time it gave way, pulling the rest of the village down with it.


- - - - -


His eyes flew open, instantly blinded by the light. Gasps racked his body, sending burning spasms across his chest. A nightmare. It had been another nightmare.

How many had he had since he'd regained consciousness after the village burning? He couldn't remembered anymore. All he knew was that each time his eyelids fell closed, each time sleep lured him back into its seemingly comforting arms, he was back there again. Back in the village, unable to stop the fire, unable to save anyone, not even himself. He'd never thought he would suffer from insomnia again, and yet here he was, mentally exhausted and drained, longing to fall asleep but afraid to do so. How much darker had the circles around his eyes gotten?

He turned his head slowly . . . then jerked upright into sitting position. "Miss Ling!" he sputtered.

Bad move. Pain shot up his wounded arm, contorting his face for the briefest of seconds. And then he promptly held his breath, schooled his face into a perfectly normal (or at least he hoped it looked normal) expression, and tried to smile as innocently as he could. One would have thought that after passing a week with her at his side, he would have gotten used to waking up to the sight of her face after every nightmare . . . and before every nightmare in the waking world. But if anyone had ever voiced that thought to Shan-Jie, he would have retorted (so long as she wasn't anywhere near him) that if they were to spend a week in his position, waking up to her face would become their second greatest dread as well.

. . . Okay, maybe not. He really didn't mind waking up to her, especially when she'd saved his life and dedicated so much of her time to healing him. It was just the thought of what was to follow that had him so paranoid. After all, he'd been threatened with a beating enough times to know that almost everything he did warranted a beating.

═════════════════════════════════════════_____♘_____═════════════════════════════════════════

[Midwinter Hearts]

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Etiam feugiat justo non velit pellentesque vulputate. Phasellus enim orci, laoreet id feugiat in, viverra sed lectus. Proin hendrerit felis non mi dignissim id lobortis sem congue. Donec scelerisque sagittis est et aliquam. sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Praesent a quam a nibh cursus rhoncus in vel purus. Sed erat quam, ullamcorper eget lacinia sed, adipiscing bibendum metus. Nam a velit ac quam faucibus ultrices. Sed posuere cursus dolor a consequat. Sed commodo venenatis arcu, ac feugiat nulla dapibus at. Phasellus ac enim ut erat euismod posuere. Maecenas vel neque sed nulla venenatis auctor at nec sem. Mauris sollicitudin viverra lectus, ac porttitor neque suscipit non. Vivamus lobortis arcu vitae dui placerat adipiscing. Cras vel pulvinar sem.

Mauris accumsan leo vel justo vehicula sollicitudin. Mauris eu suscipit mi. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Vestibulum venenatis nisl vel ante egestas tempus. Proin odio ligula, mattis quis faucibus tempor, lobortis nec enim. Ut scelerisque posuere justo, sed consequat mauris hendrerit eu. Nunc accumsan malesuada dignissim. Cras in facilisis nulla.

Nullam lobortis elementum leo, at commodo justo bibendum non. Ut quis magna sed nisl lobortis tempor a sit amet arcu. Donec quis lorem congue mauris rhoncus pretium. Morbi dolor tortor, vehicula non scelerisque ut, auctor sed magna. Pellentesque vel eros hendrerit urna pretium fermentum. Donec vitae leo nisl, at hendrerit risus. Proin tristique dolor ac metus imperdiet venenatis. Proin ac nisl diam. Proin at eros elit. Duis porta feugiat eros, id ultrices risus laoreet sed. Suspendisse a nunc in mauris facilisis fermentum eu non nulla. Curabitur felis tellus, posuere iaculis porttitor a, eleifend vel enim. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae; Quisque vitae lobortis ipsum. Nam iaculis consectetur consequat. Nulla ultricies risus in ante ullamcorper eget pellentesque orci porttitor.

Fusce consectetur arcu aliquet sem auctor quis molestie nibh eleifend. Etiam bibendum feugiat erat, id sagittis urna congue vel. In scelerisque diam id diam dictum eleifend. In pretium interdum velit, et feugiat tortor suscipit eget. Vestibulum ullamcorper orci tincidunt enim laoreet tempus. Fusce erat odio, dapibus id ultrices id, posuere auctor purus. Duis accumsan dui vel lacus condimentum accumsan. Vestibulum a nulla volutpat arcu rutrum convallis.

Quisque tincidunt porttitor tincidunt. In sit amet libero dictum sem viverra pellentesque non vitae erat. In porttitor pulvinar mauris ut scelerisque. Morbi sed nisi erat, iaculis tristique ligula. Sed eu imperdiet odio. Ut quis lacus vel libero sodales posuere. Duis dolor justo, posuere vel dictum et, suscipit eget augue. Donec ut neque aliquet tellus aliquam sollicitudin a id enim. Integer at justo ac leo suscipit ornare.

[Midwinter Hearts]

"You allowed Feng to take the seers?"
Until now, Meng-Li's rage had been tightly controlled, like a feral dog on a leash, held back only by his sense of reason and justice (he did have a sense of justice; it just tended to be a bit harsher than most people would prefer). Now however, that leash snapped, and in one fluid movement, the king of Lang swooped down from his throne, golden robes rippling behind him, and struck the commander across the face.

"You fool!" he roared furiously. "I ordered you to complete three tasks, and you failed them all!"

His daughter's lack of return, he could forgive, for it was not Yingzi's fault if Princess Yuan had not followed after him; there was nothing the man could have done, other than to send his own son after her. And failure to capture the seers could be forgiven as well. Meng-Li, after all, did not care too much for them. He had always believed that man's success came not from the heavens, but from his own hard work, and the idea of two village twins determining the fate of all of China simply because of some heaven-bestowed gift made him laugh. He didn't need them to tell him whether or not he was destined to become emperor of the four lands. He would decide that for himself.

But this--this was unforgivable. He had wanted to crush every last shred of hope in Feng, leave them in utter despair as they had left him, force them to acknowledge the inevitable death of their country just as he had been forced to watch the inevitable death of his wife. As he stared down at the disfigured old man on the floor, the man who had never failed him until now, he wanted nothing more than to beat him senseless. But reason held him back.

[Midwinter Hearts]

As the day gradually wore to an end and people rushed home from a long, tiring day of work or school, few, if any, noticed the well-dressed man in the telephone booth. What did it matter to them what he was doing? Better to get back to the safety of their home as quickly as possible than to ponder over things that concerned them not at all.

Harrison leaned casually against the wall of the booth, waiting as the number of rings increased. It really was a shame that he wouldn't be able to see Jamal's reaction to the box. Wasn't that the best part of giving gifts? To witness the ecstasy and excitement on the face of the other as they opened their presents? Alas, like the gloves, this was another necessary evil. He had briefly considered calling from a restricted number, taking the risk of having the call traced by the police just to catch a glimpse of Jamal, but in the end he had decided that it wasn't worth it. He needed to wait first, to see what Jamal really wanted. And then could he accept him.

The phone was just about to hop into voice mail when he heard it. A hoarse, tremulous answer. "Yes.

His lips curled into a smile. Yes. Even if he couldn't see the boy with his own two eyes right now, hearing the sound of his voice, hearing the thinly veiled trepidation that laced it, was enough for him.

"Are you afraid, Jamal?" His voice, unthreatening and dripping with honey, lingered a second longer on the name, drawing it out. He had always loved to breathe their names. "You can always back out now if you'd like." ❖

[Midwinter Hearts]

┌ THE BROKEN FLOWER ➤xx↺ DELIA TZAVARAS ┐

xxxWIND, LET ME LOSE MY MINDxxxxxxLET ME SUFFER ALONE
xxxxx LET ME FORGETxxxxxxMY SOUL IS FREE
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
to right the wrong that was done to my sister. to give her back her sight, her beauty, her purity
xxxxxxxxGENUINE x HOPEFUL x DETERMINED

This is my CHILDHOOD

Growing up, I hardly knew that my homeland, the land of Greece, was under the oppressive
hand of the Ottoman regime, so sheltered was I. My family lived on the Peloponnesse, which
at that time was blessed with a flourishing economy. We were wealthy enough to bribe the
Ottoman officials out of almost everything. Quite the blessing.

My sister, Eleni, and I were born five years apart, and yet she was the closest friend I had.
Though our family had servants, she loved to go to the marketplace herself, to experience
the sights and sounds, to see for herself the colorful merchandise that brightened the
bazaar. I followed her everywhere. And though she would scold me and try to force
me back home, in the end she would always relent and hold my hand to make sure I
didn't wander off alone.

This is my TEEN TIME

It happened when my sister was seventeen, the same age I am today. I don't
remember what the day was like, or how it started, thought it must have been sunny and
beautiful, for my sister when looking out the window had smiled so brilliantly, lighting up
with joy. She loved days like that.
Taking me by the hand, she led me outside, where our two servants awaited us. Mother
had said something to us, something apprehensively and full of worry, but Sister had
dismissed it. Together, we headed off to the market with our two servants. We never
made it there.

On the road, we came across three Ottoman soldiers, and as we tried to walk by them,
they stopped us and indecently flirted with my sister. She tightened her hand around mine,
backed away, and one of them grabbed her. Everything happened so quickly after that.
A shriek, a flash of metal, our servant Adelpha falling to the ground. My hand was
wrenched from my sister's, and I tripped backward into the dirt.

"Run! Run, Delia!" our other servant screamed at me, even as she tried to save my sister,
even as the soldiers beat her into submission. "Run!"

And I . . . I ran. Without looking back, without slowing down. I ran until I collapsed on
my doorstep and cried.

When they brought Eleni back, she was no longer the sister I had known. Her eyes had
been slashed, her face cut open, her spirit broken completely. She never smiled as brightly,
or purely as she once had ever again. I became the one to take her by the hand and lead
her to different places, as she had once done for me.

Less than a year later the Peloponnesians rose up in rebellion, taking control of the city
of Kalamata. Though my father yearned to aid the revolutionaries, to exact revenge on
the Ottomans for what they had done to my sister, he chose instead to move our family
to Athens, where it was relatively safer.



This is me NOW

Since then, I have lived in Athens. My parents discussed numerous times the
possibility of emigrating to America, but in the end, they always decided against it, so
reluctant were they to leave their homeland, to give up everything they had for the unknown.
Despite the war that rages, we are still wealthy, still blessed with relative peace and stability.

My sister remains unmarried. When once she had dozens of suitors asking for her hand,
now she had none, for her scars chase every man away. They come to me instead, and
with each one that does, my hearts throbs even more painfully for my sister. I want nothing
more than to give my sister back what she lost, to see her open her eyes again, to watch
her smile without a trace of sadness on her face. Every day, I pray to God, begging him
to bless her, to save her, to make her happy again. Perhaps one day, he will hear me. And
if he asks something of me first, I will willingly pay it.

[Midwinter Hearts]

That was what Meng-Li liked about Yingzi. The man made few mistakes, but when he did make one, he didn't apologize for it. He made up for it.

Turning around, Meng-Li paced slowly back to the steps leading up to the throne, hands clasped behind his back. "Jing Song has indeed proved useful over these years, poisoning the royal family, providing Lang with a steady flow of information from Feng. Whether he can be trusted with the seers, however, is a different matter." He reached the foot of the steps, then turned back to face his commander. "He has always thirsted for more power, and if the seers are within his grasp, he may choose to use them to his own advantage."

The high likelihood of that occurring did not worry Meng-Li (though if it did happen, that would only cement his belief that the seers were fakes). In fact, he welcomed it, for he knew that Jing Song's ascension to the throne would spell the doom of Feng. Jing Song could never sit on the throne, could never be the face of a kingdom. He was too nervous, too strange, and from his body exuded a disturbing aura of unpleasantness that could never win the respect and support of a peoples. His generals and advisers, like Yingzi, would scorn him, viewing him as weak and inept; eventually they would depose him themselves. The country would fall into a blood fest. In essence, he would pave the road for Lang.

"For now, only have him report back on the seers. Note their every word and action. And send another to keep an eye on him."


He had never trusted Jing Song. Now, more than ever.

[Midwinter Hearts]

It was not until Meng Li heard the bitter derision in Yingzi's voice that he realized the culprit behind the commander's wounds. That was interesting. On the battlefield, few rivaled Yingzi Chai-Ling in swordsmanship and brilliance. For a lowly village boy to injure him to this extent . . . well, Meng Li supposed that if the boy had taken Yingzi by surprise and shot fire at him from out of nowhere, then Yingzi wouldn't have stood much of a chance anyway, regardless of his skill. But that was interesting nonetheless.

Lang could certainly use a fire-kissed warrior. It would take away yet another one of the few advantages that the kingdom of Hu, with its First Prince, and the kingdom of Feng, with its Star, possessed over Lang. And how ironic would it be for Feng, the bird of fire, to be lost in flames and destroyed? Especially if this Wu Lan was familiar with the seers. . . . They could make Yingzi's failure work out very well for them.

"See if you can make use of his fire. And if not, then do what you will with him." He doubted the boy would live very long after that. There was no room in the palace of Lang, not even in the dungeon, for useless people.
"If that is all you have to report, then you are dismissed."

[Midwinter Hearts]

For the past few days, even when he’d been conscious, Shan Jie had been too weak to reply properly to Ling Dai Yu. Either his ears had muffled the sound of the words, or his tongue had refused to work. Now that he could think, however, he found that he didn’t know what to say anyway. What was he supposed to say? “Yes, I am awake now”? “Hey, don’t call me ‘stupid face’”? Or “Why are you always so mean to me?” No. It was better to keep his mouth shut and just stare . . . which, he realized, was probably why she called him “stupid face” in the first place. . . . Oh well, there were worse things in life than being called a name.

Like this, for example. Breakfast. Or what Shan Jie otherwise called “first torture of the day.”

As the porcelain spoon came at him, wisps of untamed hot steam curling from it, Shan Jie could only watch helplessly. This was going to burn. But he refused to say anything that would make him sound like a whiny child stuck in bed; so instead he willed all his muscles not to move away from the spoon. Surely she would notice. She didn’t want to kill him, after all.

When the spoon touched his lips, it was all he could do to keep from cursing out loud, and jerking backward, and probably tossing the porridge all over himself.

. . . No, she definitely didn’t want to kill him. Just make his life as terrible as possible.

At least she remembered, he thought to himself, always trying to be optimistic, though, even in his head, he could hear the tinge of miserable exasperation.

He was grateful to Ling Dai Yu. He really was. Even if she was only trying to save him in order to repay her debt to Liang. When he had first been conscious enough to experience her less-than-gentle treatment, he’d assumed that she’d been grieving terribly over her lost village, and was taking that grief out on him, who was nothing to her but a burden. As a result, each time she’d redressed his wound, each time she’d slapped her mixture of herbs onto it, he’d gritted his teeth and endured the pain silently, never complaining once. It almost seemed like his purpose in life—to bear the pain of others on his back and try to find happiness in knowing that he had helped them, if only by a little. At least that was how it had been with the First Prince. . . .

But after only a few days, Shan Jie had already begun to suspect that Ling Dai Yu was just an unpleasant person in general. And though he still didn’t complain, it was now because there really was no point in complaining. She would only yell at him, and that was embarrassing, to say the least, especially with so many other people around. Plus, he simply was too tired to care. Nonetheless, he’d tried to look on the bright side: By not complaining, he was wasting less energy, and by wasting less energy, he would heal faster, and by healing faster, he would sooner escape from Dai Yu! The thought kept him motivated . . . somewhat.

When the spoon of porridge came back, significantly cooler, Shan Jie realized something. He was feeling less dead. Granted, feeling less dead and feeling well meant two very different things, but at least he could feed himself now. His right arm was still functional, after all.

Cheered on by this new realization, Shan Jie quickly swallowed down his porridge and opened his mouth—only to have another spoonful shoved down his throat before he could say a word.

He choked. Which was bad enough without the pain from his fractured rib. Or the fear of Ling Dai Yu yelling at him. Or the mortification of his situation in general. Holding his breath, he tried to work the porridge down his throat without drawing any attention to himself. His eyes watered. Damn it.

Wait. He could do this. He could definitely do it.

No, not wait. Another spoonful was coming at him. There was no time.

"Miss Dai Yu, I can feed myself," he choked out, his voice rough and a few notes too high. He threw up his right arm to demonstrate his point. "Perhaps you should get some rest before you see His Majesty."

═════════════════════════════════════════_____♘_____═════════════════════════════════════════

[Midwinter Hearts]

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Etiam feugiat justo non velit pellentesque vulputate. Phasellus enim orci, laoreet id feugiat in, viverra sed lectus. Proin hendrerit felis non mi dignissim id lobortis sem congue. Donec scelerisque sagittis est et aliquam. sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Praesent a quam a nibh cursus rhoncus in vel purus. Sed erat quam, ullamcorper eget lacinia sed, adipiscing bibendum metus. Nam a velit ac quam faucibus ultrices. Sed posuere cursus dolor a consequat. Sed commodo venenatis arcu, ac feugiat nulla dapibus at. Phasellus ac enim ut erat euismod posuere. Maecenas vel neque sed nulla venenatis auctor at nec sem. Mauris sollicitudin viverra lectus, ac porttitor neque suscipit non. Vivamus lobortis arcu vitae dui placerat adipiscing. Cras vel pulvinar sem.

Mauris accumsan leo vel justo vehicula sollicitudin. Mauris eu suscipit mi. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Vestibulum venenatis nisl vel ante egestas tempus. Proin odio ligula, mattis quis faucibus tempor, lobortis nec enim. Ut scelerisque posuere justo, sed consequat mauris hendrerit eu. Nunc accumsan malesuada dignissim. Cras in facilisis nulla.

Nullam lobortis elementum leo, at commodo justo bibendum non. Ut quis magna sed nisl lobortis tempor a sit amet arcu. Donec quis lorem congue mauris rhoncus pretium. Morbi dolor tortor, vehicula non scelerisque ut, auctor sed magna. Pellentesque vel eros hendrerit urna pretium fermentum. Donec vitae leo nisl, at hendrerit risus. Proin tristique dolor ac metus imperdiet venenatis. Proin ac nisl diam. Proin at eros elit. Duis porta feugiat eros, id ultrices risus laoreet sed. Suspendisse a nunc in mauris facilisis fermentum eu non nulla. Curabitur felis tellus, posuere iaculis porttitor a, eleifend vel enim. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae; Quisque vitae lobortis ipsum. Nam iaculis consectetur consequat. Nulla ultricies risus in ante ullamcorper eget pellentesque orci porttitor.

Fusce consectetur arcu aliquet sem auctor quis molestie nibh eleifend. Etiam bibendum feugiat erat, id sagittis urna congue vel. In scelerisque diam id diam dictum eleifend. In pretium interdum velit, et feugiat tortor suscipit eget. Vestibulum ullamcorper orci tincidunt enim laoreet tempus. Fusce erat odio, dapibus id ultrices id, posuere auctor purus. Duis accumsan dui vel lacus condimentum accumsan. Vestibulum a nulla volutpat arcu rutrum convallis.

Quisque tincidunt porttitor tincidunt. In sit amet libero dictum sem viverra pellentesque non vitae erat. In porttitor pulvinar mauris ut scelerisque. Morbi sed nisi erat, iaculis tristique ligula. Sed eu imperdiet odio. Ut quis lacus vel libero sodales posuere. Duis dolor justo, posuere vel dictum et, suscipit eget augue. Donec ut neque aliquet tellus aliquam sollicitudin a id enim. Integer at justo ac leo suscipit ornare.