βμȵɨȶ'ʂ Șᾳɱρℓєs

[The Bunit]

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Bunit's Posting Samples
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Do not steal. Do not post. Feel free to loiter. I join role plays on an invite basis only, due to the fact that I am the Story Master for two role play guilds, and the VC for another and a mod in another. Most of the stories I'm currently involved in are either series related, or medieval. I love love love one on ones, or smaller stories. I hate competitive role stories -- don't waste my time, asking me to build a character if I'm not going to be able to use it. Plus, those stories rarely ever see themselves to fruition. Below is just a small handful of my typical posts, some intros, others responses in the middle of an IC. If you have questions about anything, don't hesitate to shoot me a PM; I'd love to hear from people.

Current Role Plays:
ą ʂĭℓѵεя ℓĭɳĭɳɠ...
New Origins
Academy X
Exodus

[The Bunit]

~Eyrien Encampment~

Alexandra ground her teeth as the harsh whip flayed the membrane of her wing for the twenty-seventh time today. She was in simply too much pain to do much else, and she wasn't working fast enough for the overseer's liking. She winced, and swallowed the painful utterances at the tip of her tongue and forced her limbs to commence with mining again. Her hands were cracked, calloused and blistered from the amount of salt that had embedded itself into her skin, drying it out to the point that the grime literally rubbed her raw.

It'd been six months that she'd been in the deplorable position of a slave, and Eyrien wings were simply not made to withstand the atmosphere that came with being in a salt mine. The salty air had shredded her wings to the point that if she ever escaped, it'd be unlikely that she'd ever fly again. They were torn, shredded, and pieces were literally hanging by a few threads of flesh. The thought of not flying made her heart cry out in rage; to not fly was to not be Eyrien. It was as much a part of her as her soul, though both were so tattered that Alex wouldn't recognize either of them.

Alexandra took a moment to stare at the others that were in her position, watching one full-blooded Eyrien fall lifeless to the ground, the wings crumpled around him in a heap. "Enid, zu Olmie." She whispered, knowing he'd not get the proper burial that he deserved. Dipping her head, what was left of what had once been glorious hair fell in her eyes, and she had all but forgotten the feel of the whip when her attention strayed. But there was a quick reminder for her.

Crack! Another blow to her wings, this time the whip wrapped around the bone, searing straight through the thinned area of what would be her pinion if she had feathers. Alex winced from the excruciating pain, squeezing her eyes shut before tears could surge out of her sockets.

"Faster!" The man's rough voice ordered, snapping the whip in the air to urge Alex to pick up her pace.

Alexandra swallowed the slew of retorts before they could escape her and forced her aching muscles to work for the last few hours of the day. When the overseer finally relented for the night, Alexandra found her wrists shackled to bolts in the ceiling, and it was just high enough that she hung there, a few inches from the floor.

A sheen of sweat beaded down her face as she tried to make her hanging position more comfortable, but nothing seemed to help. Six months of this. She'd counted the days, and prayed to Gyrie every second for some sort of relief, but he'd not even offered death for the young Eyrien woman, and she was the last of her kind left in the mines. It was only a matter of time before infection would take her. Already, the wounds festered with a yellow, oozing puss that had come from her body not being nourished enough to heal itself.

Hot tears of anger flooded out of her as she thought about her position. Ceronvar had given his life to save hers, and for what? She was going to rot away in a cave. "Iolana, skriti balint Ceron." She whispered to Ceron, only hoping that his spirit had stayed with her beyond his death. It translated to I remember your love, Ceron. But no one in the mines would know. No one in the mines thought her anything more than a monster. Alex was beginning to believe them, and closed the doors to her lilac eyes in despair. There would be more slaves brought in tomorrow, and she wondered if she'd be a casualty the next round, or if the gods would make her suffer for longer, to be the last one standing once again.

Alex had been so engrossed in her own misery that she hadn't heard the man that had snuck his way in. It wasn't until Amber had brushed against the dangling Alexandra that the Eyrien half-breed realized someone had come to save her.

"Shh." The man had uttered in a hushed tone. "Don't be alarmed, but brace yourself to fall in five...four...three...two..." The chains that had constrained her to the ceiling gave way, and Alex crash landed onto the hard, salty ground below. The salt rubbed raw into her wounds and it took all of the restraint she had not to cry out in pain. Salt in open wounds was always a splitting pain that one wouldn't be likely to bear in silence. Alex made no sound, but urged her body to move, and fast before the guards became aware of the last remaining Eyrie blood no longer being attached to the ceiling.

There were many questions that she wanted to ask, but held her tongue as her rescuer motioned for her to follow out of the cave and into the open air that she'd not so much as tasted for the better part of half a year. Questions could be answered later. Amber led them out, patient with Alex's fumbled footing.

Amber and Alex made it out of the cave, the sun not yet ready to make birth against the horizon. The Eyrien woman breathed in the fresh air, her lungs still ragged from the harsh environment that filled the mines. "Thanks." It was the only word that Alex was able to get out before falling face first into the dirt from the overwhelming exhaustion that overtook her, and caused her whole world to become nothing but darkness.

[The Bunit]

A lady with a violin,
Playing to the seas
Hearken to the sound of calling

I tied myself to the wheel
The winds talk to my sails, not me
Come to me....

Come to me...

Somewhere

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there my fate revealed...
I hear but how will I see?

Princess Lorelei Gavini held the violin up to play, pinching it with the crook of shoulder and her chin as she lost herself in the tones her bow brought bubbling into the air. She'd been playing diligently for hours, trying to block out the screeching of cannons in the distance; their adversaries were no longer inching closer to their borders, but had invaded, and were making quick strides towards their castle.

Her heart quivered as the thought crossed her mind, and the violin drooped from the position. Everyone had been forbidden to leave the safety of the castle, but she well knew that her and her siblings would be sent away soon enough. Her bags were packed already, as she'd anticipated the notion before anyone had even suggested it.What with them being the future for Easterly Castle, it would be foolhardy to let them be sitting ducks when their enemies were breathing down their necks.

She sighed, her conscience so focused on the perilous situation that her and her family had found themselves in that Lorelei could no longer bring herself to play the lively tune that she'd been using to distract herself.

With the care a mother would show her child, Lorelei placed her precious violin back into its case and snapped the bearings on it to lock the instrument safely inside before staring out the window, her amber colored eyes working to spot any oncoming intruders. Even though the general had stated that the oncoming entourage wouldn't be able to trek up to the castle for a few more days yet, Lorelei couldn't help but worry that some of them would begin pounding on the castle doors at any given moment.

It was then that a servant tugged on the skirts of the princess' satin, emerald gown. "Your father wishes to speak to you." She said in a small voice. The girl was naught more than a child, and might have seen ten summers at most, what with her unsharpened features and still baby fine hair.

Lorelei bent down to meet the girl; the effort not taking much, as Lorelei herself hadn't gotten very far off of the ground during the process of growing. She was maybe 1.52 meters on her best day. Her voice was soft resembling a lullaby, tender as she spoke to the child, her hands grasping her knees so that she wouldn't fall over. "Did he want just me or all of us?" The beckoning had made her head spin; Father had as little to do with her as possible, and Lorelei didn't foresee him changing his sour attitude towards her any time in the near or distant future.

The blue-eyed girl frowned at the question, twirling one of her curls around her finger before chewing on its end. "I think he wanted all of you." She said, obviously confused at the princess' query. "But momma told me to go tell you first."

That made sense; he was probably going to tell them that it was time for them to leave for the Veritas' safe haven. Lorelei saved the eye rolling until she was by herself, and offered the child a smile with her glossy, orange blossom-colored lips. "Well you go tell your Momma that you did a good job." She instructed sweetly as she rubbed the top of the girl's brazen-tinted head.

Lorelei watched, laughing softly at the bouncing curls retreating to go tell her mother that she'd done the assigned task. The girl was much better behaved than what she recalled being at that age. Once the child had sufficiently disappeared from sight, the princess stood up, pulled the strap to her violin case over her shoulder and hitched her skirts and made her way to the throne room, where her father would inevitably be.

As usual, Lorelei's hunch was dead on target, her eyes deepened with intensity at the sight of the man on the throne. She did a slight curtsy, dipping her head so that her stare focused on the floor while she swallowed her contempt before speaking. "You beckoned our attention, Father?" Her face was still, locked into a blank expression, else she cause more issues for her mother.

The King nodded, unable to hide the tick in his jawline at the presence of his so-called daughter. Most of their encounters with one another were forcibly cordial, and it was all he could manage to do at the sight of his temptress of a child. She bore no resemblance to him, and with her abilities, there was little evidence for him to believe that his wife had been completely faithful. Lorelei was a reminder that he'd shared his wife with another, and he detested her for that. "Yes. The coach has arrived to see you to the safe haven." She was still surprised that he'd insisted she go at all. Didn't he want her dead? "The first is for you to take on your own, as everyone's belongings have been packed inside, and you are simply the only one who will be able to squeeze into the small space."

So the little servant girl had been wrong, he'd simply wanted to be sure that she suffered the duration of the trip. She'd give her father no such pleasure to see her discomfort. "I'll be taking my leave immediately then." Lorelei answered in an equally cold tone, but the music that naturally threaded her voice softened it just so that it'd not be quiet thunder rolling into his ears.

Her mother had gone into hiding earlier this morning and as much as she'd begged to be able to go with her, His Majesty had forbade it, so Lorelei needed to bid no adieus. She turned and left without so much as a word of good luck to her father, actually hoping that the adversaries would drag him to the deepest pits of Hell.

Lorelei turned to gaze at her home one more time, not even a hint of despair painting her emotions as she clambered up into the coach, shrinking into the only available spot left for her to sit. The coach lurched forward, and Lorelei stared straight ahead as it moved her to her destination.

[[Oddly Oafish Commentary]]

The siren sang so sweet and watched the sailors go down, anyone would drown

[The Bunit]

[ ʈ | ɦ | ҿ ➸Ӎ | α | ȓ | ɋ | μ | ҿ | ȿ | ȿ ]

________The world is spinning, turning day to night

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☩Macaluay Weldon☩

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And my thoughts are running at the speed of light_____

Why on earth had she gotten pregnant? Gods, he should have still taken the precautionary measures required of trysts. Out of all the women he'd bedded,she'd been the only one that could actually ruin his life, and she'd been the one to quicken with his seed.The one who had promised that she couldn't carry, that nothing but entertainment would come from their time together. But it had been a lie, a simple string of words that had no truth in them. It had to have been. She had to have only wanted to seek the marriage bed that a lord could offer, and had feigned reluctance so that Drake would hurry things along. The b***h! And now, now he was stuck with her. For someone who'd done so well to trap him she was an incredible actress, appearing as though she wanted nothing to do with him, the marriage, or any of the people here. Yes, she had been fun between the sheets, but he'd not wanted to be tied down. He'd never really wanted such a commitment, and now the words exchanged branded him paired with her. There hadn't been time to work around this; there'd not been enough time for him to even come to grips with the permanence of their circumstances.

Think of the babe. Think of the babe. Mac told himself, closing his eyes as the winds brought her words of loathing to his ears. Of course she'd try and diminish his abilities that had led them here. But she'd not been complaining before, so he just brushed it off, not allowing the words to bruise his ego as she'd intended. And then she gave him permission find carnal pleasures elsewhere as if it were a kindness because she'd have none of him. If there were an award for such temptresses, she'd have won it. His wife was playing the part perfectly, but what would these games achieve? His misery? They'd already marked that with the words that bound them as one. ~It's just as well, my love.~ The last word was slathered in contempt, diminishing any notions of it being a pet name for her. ~ I wouldn't want you again if you were the last woman on earth, sullied as you are. ~ The statement was more harsh than he felt, the last part a lie that he made himself believe so that it'd ring true. No, he wouldn't ever want to share a night with her, but the reasons had nothing to do with her being used. To even insinuate that she was a whore was more than unkind, and definitely not what he'd want of a wife coming into their class. ~And as the husband, it isn't so much as frowned upon for a man to seek the attentions somewhere else.~ Society was a double edged sword; women were to be treated like princesses above all else, they were to be cherished, protected, taken care of; but they were also viewed as inferior for those very reasons.

She exchanged the vows, eyes closed. And his heart stopped for a moment as he drew his lips closer to hers, the gesture meant they'd be legally bound to each other for as long as they both shall live. Think of the child. His lips met hers for barely more than a few moments, but even in his haste to end it, it seemed an eternity, as a cruel intended idea sprung in his head. He'd toy with her the way she had him, and he purposefully made the kiss deep, passionate, as though he'd take her there in front of the whole wedding party. His mouth demanded her answer, had been delliberately sensual to make her heart flutter with a need that even in her anger she likely couldn't deny. Especially seeing as she'd been so responsive before. She'd trapped him, and this was the last she'd know of the sensual side of him. ~Savor that, and have fun trying to find someone else who is as enjoyable as me, because that's the last you'll get.~ He promised, knowing well the crippling effect that he could cause a woman to have. If she were anything like the others, she'd want more later. And that was something that she'd never get.

The ceremony concluded, and her siblings gathered around them, hands clasped and speaking of the council, something he hadn't a clue to what exactly it was. Their voices was laden with a heavy power, and it revertabrated through his chest. But the word, "life mate" caught his attention. Life sentence, morelike. He thought irritably, unable to detach this idea from his line of thoughts.

Dagda spoke first, and made what sounded like a ceremonial speech about the earth, and it suited him. He listened intently to his best friend's words, and the soft green glow ensared him and his new wife. The woodsy smell overcame him as the earth mage spoke, and it was a smell that Mac had always liked best about the man. Once he was finished speaking, Mac dipped his head in reverance, almost as though he were supposed to.

Brighed spoke next, and a wave of heat accompanied them. She spoke of lust, of love, and he found some restraint to keep from exhaling hotly at the idea of either of those accompanying their marriage. It sounded hopeful, something that he couldn't bring himself to believe in, because Isis had tricked him. And as long as he lived, he'd not forget that she'd schemed perfectly to have him wrapped around her finger. There's nothing to rekindle. A flaming glow surrounded them, but didn't replace the green one that Dagda had given them. He once again bowed his head from her blessing.

The water mage uttered his blessing, speaking of water. And Mac felt that this deserved the most recognition, because he spoke of their descendants. Already they had a child on the way, and that was the only reason that Macaluay might try to make Isis at the very least comfortable. Whatever she wanted while she was heavy with child, he'd see it done, save him. It'd be a cold day in hell before he'd willingly go back to her bed. "Thank you." The new husband said in a tone of respect, poise. A blue hue added to the green and the red, and the three siblings spoke in unison once more.

They spoke, in proxy for her - his wife - and called her arms loving. But the ceremony was drawing to a close, and Mac withheld the sardonic thoughts that passed through his conscience. Somehow, he felt that the air that Isis would blow at him would only contain more trickery, work to have him bewitched. White light came over them, and all of the colors shone brightly and they did an odd blood exchange. He inhaled sharply when they cut her neck, a flare of defensive instincts rising despite his best efforts to keep them contained. Her wound healed quickly, though and his posture relaxed a few hairs in response. The three spots of blood faded into his skin, and the blade they'd used to cut the mother of his child disappeared with it. May the great ones provide me with a better life. What he needed was someone who could undo the three weeks they'd shared together, so that he'd not be legally bound to a wench who cared naught for him or their child.

She breathed in heavily as her siblings concluded their special ceremony, and Mac was aware of her distress. Oh how talented was she! His skin tingled with the slight breeze of the air, something he'd missed before. Perhaps he had just been so worried before, first about her state when she'd awakened, and then that she refused to do what was best for the child, that she'd leave their child without a name to call his own.

But now she was his, and as fetching as his wife was, he was severely aggravated that she'd been able to connive her way into a union with him. She'd lied the whole time; and it hurt. No, he'd never expected any sort of attachment to form between the two. Isis had been a breath of fresh air the past three weeks, and now she was suffocating him. Tears filmed her eyes, and series of sobs escaped her as she retreated from the wedding party.

Unable to help himself, Mac watched her form flee, but hadn't any inclination to chase after her, to alleviate some of the pain she was feigning. Probably just her acting again. He thought coldly. "Congratulations." He muttered to himself, so low that most probably wouldn't even hear it.

For the child. For the child. Having a wife was a strange concept, and his heart felt detached from the situation, numb in a way he couldn't describe. He'd gained a future child, a wife in a span of just a few hours. And the new concept wasn't something he was able to wrap his head around. Isis was his; most men would kill for the opportunity. She was pretty, adventurous and smart as a whip.

Right now, he'd have traded everything to switch places. Let them deal with the witch, her deception. Macaluay Raliff wanted no part of it.

He watched the fleeing form of his wife, despair making a nest in the pit of his stomach. ~Dagda... what have I done?~ He asked miserably. It was more a rhetorical question, but he needed the support of his best friend so that he could settle into the misery many called marriage.

___Got an empty feeling that I never want to fill

[ Ȓ | α | ɭ | ΐ | ƒ | ƒ ]___

Absolutely still

[The Bunit]

คɾeɳ

What is life?
It is the flash of a firefly in the night.
It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.
It is the little shadow which runs across
the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

-Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator 1830 - 1890

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ʘɱϵgą - On vacation

His heart was sore for her, with how firm she was on the subject. That she didn't want to use alternative methods? Aren understood completely – even as a man who wanted kids, he'd appreciate the pregnancy more, if he could go to bed, holding his love in his arms, feeling the baby kick underneath his gentle hands. It was an experience, he wanted to have... along with talking to the baby through the womb... going through all the classes, midnight cravings for things that were impossible to get. Truly, the native looked forward to it all.

But unlike Cissa, he would be skip those experiences if he had to – if the woman he ended up with was infertile. He dreamed of a family, desired it so. There were so many things he wanted to teach his children; and Aren was one of the few men at his age, that would take on the responsibility fully. He'd be the father that his father hadn't been. The father he'd wished he'd had.

And while Ciss thought about how a child would effect her ability to work with the X-men... Aren did not. The X-men were never a part of Aren's dream; they were simply where he'd gone to school, the people who had taught him to control his mutation. They weren't a way of life. The reservation was.

Aren's mouth moved over the word 'Pocahontas' in an amused silence, not the least abashed from the slightly racist slur. Naki might have been, had she overheard... But it seemed that the sense of humor the native girl had once had suffered a treatment from a shop vac – completely sucked from her core upon his arrival with another woman. “Pocahontas stopped a war you know...” He said, grinning at the irony when Cissa seemed intent on one between the two women.

Not that she needed it; there was no competition between the two of them, on which one had Aren's interest. (More like, Cissa had his soul, but that thought hadn't yet occurred to the size shifter...) Though, the jealousy that ran thick in Cissa's heart was enough to placate him... motivate him to talk to Naki at his next chance.

He grinned when she spoke of her perception of him, shaking his head with a roll of soft, deep chuckles. “Even then I'd not have been handing out promise rings, o'ksiko'ko.” His grin widened as he continued. “But then again, you just didn't want to admit that I was a man... that you were attracted to, when I was right under your nose.” And something she shouldn't have taken.

Not that he was complaining though.

The gentle peck on his lips did wonders to prove to him that she liked the change, and he returned it back with all that she'd given him, but keeping it light enough... that they'd not be sorely tempted for more.

** 

He could breathe again when the meeting ended – not out of nervousness from all the people piled into such a small enclosure... but because for now, they could drop the talk about an attack against his home – the wounds to that still entirely too sore... still gaping from the amount of destruction it'd wreaked.

The words that Na'a had left Cissa with before the meeting had started, had been enough that her thoughts had lingered on them... and whether or not the bond had made his own do the same, Aren wouldn't have known... but the satisfaction he got from hearing that Narcissa was “with” him hadn't faded. The wave of possession coursed through him at that. Not dominating, but soft... gentle while still being demanding. She was his, as much as he was hers. And the two way street, was more heavenly than anything he'd ever felt.

“No story time.” Aren said firmly as he walked out the door – knowing that stories would be the first thing Na'a brought up if she got Narcissa alone. Na'a's smile only grew wider, intent on telling the British woman many things about Aren, that he didn't think anyone really needed to know.

He didn't truly want to leave her... even with his mother... Aren didn't like the thought of not seeing Narcissa's face... didn't like the thought of not having her close enough that he could touch her when he needed to, as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded to Earth.

As the sun kissed Narcissa's skin, a spread of warmth went through him, relaxing all the tension that had built up in his muscles during the meeting. Being in the sun with her in his arms was akin to coming home from a long, dreary journey. She purred, and his lips twitched with a grin. “There is a greenhouse at the Academy... with solar panels to intensify the effects of the sun...” He started, figuring she'd catch his drift.... that they should visit there, just the two of them when they returned. “It's usually empty too..”

The conversation didn't get much further than that, when Cissa interjected that she'd done something he'd not like. “Ki'somma...” He responded slowly when she confessed to what it was that she'd done. He'd wanted it... he'd wanted Elixir to come out here and fix them, but he'd thought it was an impossibility. Josh was busy on campus, and Montana was a long way away. “It's too much.” He whispered, lips brushing her temple, gratitude sweeping through him despite the words.

“Too much for you to pay for, on my people's behalf.” He said, cutting straight through the fact that she'd not mentioned the money it'd require to do so. Obviously, Josh didn't have it... and Narcissa would be footing the bill to do so. “I'll make it up to you.” He said solemnly, never one to take charity well. Even if it was for his friends. Even if it wouldn't do a damn thing to the amount of figures in her bank account. His words were firm enough, that she'd know better than to argue. The question was... exactly how he'd make up the difference. Several thousand dollars of things to make up.

And while he was away, he'd start concocting ways to do just that. Narcissa mentioned that Na'a wanted time together, and Aren gave one nod as confirmation. “That she does.” In a way, he was relieved that his mother so adored the blond... in another he was apprehensive. Simply because, he was afraid with how fast the intensity of their... relationship for a lack of a better word had come about, it'd burn out... and Na'a would be hurt.

“She'll take good care of you.” Aren said with a nod. “You won't even notice that I'm gone.” Not that he'd be able to say the same. He needed her. Christ, he needed to be able to just reach out, and hold her hand – a dependency he'd never felt for anyone else. Leaving her, even for a little while would be the hardest thing he'd had to do all vacation.

He kissed her, thanking her for all she'd given him. And her response made his heart stop. Of course, he shouldn't have read into the four letter word – and he forced himself to swallow that furrowing reaction, a bit too late for Narcissa not to feel a part of it – a sudden warmth reaching all the way down to his toes when she'd called him love. But it was just a word, a simple word that she tossed around with many people... calling someone “love” was often just something that many British people did, with no actual connection behind the term.

“I can't completely...” Aren responded honestly. Not when she'd given him so much, trusted him so explicitly. It was something close to a miracle for the sun goddess, and she deserved to know that he appreciated it. That it wasn't something he'd ever take for granted.

He'd been taking her towards the thicket of trees, when Naki's hurt voice sounded in the air. Displeasure boiled through Narcissa, and she turned to glare at Aren's former flame. Silently, and quickly... Aren sent up a prayer that this encounter wouldn't end with fireworks, when Cissa finally broke the silence with brutal honesty. Her voice had been hard, even when she rounded on Aren's face – carefully expressing nothing as Narcissa and Naki had a small stand off. She ordered him to put her down – and chocolate eyes gauged her features before doing so, making sure that Naki wouldn't feel the brunt of Narcissa's jealousy through an energy blast.

He grimaced at the use of his last name, bidding him to not disobey her in this request order. When she separated herself completely from him, his skin immediately felt cold, and he was sorely tempted to pick her back up to fix it. Had he not known that it would piss her off to do so, he would have, selfishly.

Through their link, he could feel her weakness, and her determination not to allow it to show as she walked away, leaving him to Naki's attentions for now. Chocolate eyes rounded on the native girl, full of an apology that he couldn't express. After all, he'd told her when he left... not to wait on him, that it'd be unfair to do so... and would make her miserable while she waited, for Napi only knew how long before he could come home. The agreement had been, that when he returned, if they both were single... if they both still felt the same way, they could pick up where they left off.

But it was a big if.

Naki was a pretty girl; shy, sweet... smart. Funny when one got to know her. And Aren hadn't been the only man on the reservation who'd taken a notice of her. He'd just been the only successful one. And somehow, she'd fallen for him... in a way that wasn't acceptable for their age. In a way, that was conducive to dreams and fairy tales. But those stories weren't meant for Aren... and it wasn't until now that Naki truly realized that.

And had he stayed, he might have felt a small iota of what she did. Eventually. He'd liked her, had been staunchly attracted to all that she was... but at the end of the day, Aren was one to remain unattached. Always cavalier.

“You love her.” She said quietly, tears stinging her eyes when she was sure that Narcissa wouldn't hear their conversation. And he had no answer to that. Could he truly say, that his newfound obsession for Narcissa Lucania was the same thing as love?

“I'm fond of her.” He qualified. “She's been a constant in my life since I was promoted to the teams.” A constant tease, up until vacation. “When I brought her home... we were just friends... friends with a mutual attraction for one another... but both of us had the sense to know that dating teammates tends to get messy.” He explained carefully. “When I came home, it'd not been my intention for this to happen.”

Naki listened as he started, shaking her head, wringing her hands in and out. He'd not denied her accusation. “Why did you bring her?” She asked, wishing that he'd left the girl far behind in New York. Wishing, that he had, because otherwise, she could still be counting down the days until he came home. When he would be hers again, the way she'd wanted since giving in to his pursuit.

And as she looked up at him, all she could think about was how delectable he'd looked under the moonlight, when they'd snuck out together for a private interlude. Even with him going to another woman... it left her mouth dry. She still wanted him, despite knowing that he wasn't hers anymore.

Aren shrugged at the question, not thinking about how important it was. “We're put through hell on the teams, Naki... You know that, from all the phone calls you get. And while it may look like she has everything... Narcissa has no family outside of the team. Her family... is all dead. I wanted her to experience mine, share what I could with her, after all she's done for me on campus.”

Granted, when he'd offered... he'd been half joking, never expecting her to take him up on going home with him.

A slow tear trailed down Naki's cheek. “But now I'll never have you. And I know it's selfish of me... forgive me of that. But after all that I shared with you...” Because she'd given him everything before he'd left. “I couldn't help but want some portion of it back. And I was willing to wait until you came home...” But now that wasn't an option... even if he didn't see it presently. Naki had a stark feeling that his plans for the reservation life would be gone with the changing of the winds. The X-men... that British girl would take him far away from Montana. “Because you're a good man, Peta. You are everything that your mother could have hoped to be... and I know, as duty bound as you tend to be... you'd have given it back tenfold.” It was why, when she'd started to fall for him... she had finally let her inhibitions go.

Loving him had been like feeling a summer rain on her skin. Refreshing.

But the storm was brewing now. “She's not right for you.” Naki said honestly. “Even if I'm not right for you either... she'll never understand your love for your home. And she'd never follow you here. Never would she be satisfied living in the meager conditions this place offers.” Reservation people lived in squalor. “With all of her fancy threads, and carefully applied make up... she's not natural enough to be here permanently Peta. Surely you know that.”

The words stung more than what the girl could know, because it'd been one of his fears, as he realized how thoroughly attached he'd become to Narcissa.

“She'll leave you. Just as your father left your mother.” Just as easily as you left me. She added silently. “She wouldn't survive here. And this is where you belong. So what are you going to do, when that time comes?” Would he be willing to let go? Because the two things he loved... were like oil and water... never really to be mixed.

The amount of pain that followed that statement simply hurt, felt like a knife being twisted in his gut. “I don't know.” he answered honestly, shutting off his chocolate eyes from the world. “But what I feel for her, has spiraled beyond my control.” And one day it might bring him misery. But for now, it felt right to be with her, to kiss her when he pleased, to hold her, covet her. “So I'll figure it out, if it ever comes to that.”

But their relationship was so new... it was much, much to early to think about the proverbial end.

“For what it's worth Naki... I still care for you. But as I said when I left... there was too much that we couldn't predict to try and make it work. You deserve someone who is here, who can pay attention to you when I couldn't. Someone who will treasure you.” His hand brushed a lock of raven colored hair out of her face. “I can't be that person for you, even without Narcissa being in the picture.” That said, Narcissa was in the picture... and if Aren had his way... she'd not be leaving that frame.

“I can for her... and as much as you need it... she needs it more. And I feel her, in a way that I've never experienced with anyone else. She's everywhere for me.” Everything. “I need her, as much as she needs me.” Scary for him to admit it so openly.

Naki shook her head. “You don't get it yet, do you?” Without warning, she kissed his cheek, pulling back with her heart in her throat. “One day you will.” Hopefully, one day soon. “Peta... I love you. I've given you everything.. and I hope one day, that I'll get it all back so that I can move on.” Because it'd be terribly difficult to do at this point. “There's not been a day since you left, that you've not been the first thing on my mind when I wake up, the last thing on my conscience when I drift to sleep.”

“There's not been one day, where you couldn't call.. that I didn't worry needlessly over your safety, wondering what sort of danger that damned team put you in.” There hadn't been a night that she hadn't cried when he couldn't call, when she'd been so sick with worry. “I promise, that I'll do my best to get over this. To get over what we could have been. And I hope you make her as happy as she's seemed to have made you.” She said sincerely. “I can't say I'll ever like her either, when she stole what I've wanted most for the longest time. But I'll try. Because I love you, even if you don't love me back.” The last part made her choke, and Aren's heart fell to the pit of his stomach, because she couldn't have said anything truer than that.

He was guilty... because he couldn't give her what she wanted. Especially when he was bound to Narcissa... who had a permanent lease on his heart. And what she'd do with that when they got back to campus was beyond him... a scary concept to face.

“Tell her I said I'm sorry.” Because all she'd done was get in the way. “And that I hope you'll both be happy.” She loved him enough, to let go... if it'd give him all he wanted. If Narcissa could make him smile. Hopefully, the outsider would appreciate him, because she'd snagged one of the better men that the world had to offer. Peta was everything a girl could ask for, and more...

He didn't give her any words... but nodded silently, sadness heavily laden in his heart for her... because he'd broken hers. Naki turned around and left, her head not hung... even if the proverbial cloud was suspended over her head, drenching her with dejection. If only he'd not been gifted...

* *

Aren watched as Naki walked out of sight, waiting until she couldn't see him to turn around and seek out the girl he'd missed the entire time. Using the new link between them, he found her easily, a frown marring his otherwise beautiful mouth as he looked at her... so peaceful that he didn't say anything for a long time. She looked so hurt still.. and a part of him wanted to go about, kissing away all the hurts the way a devoted lover would. Unfortunately, he knew he'd not be able to stop there... and she'd hurt worse for his efforts.

“Ki'somma.” He whispered after a long while, bending down next to her. “It's over.” He said, speaking of Naki, before holding out a hand to her. “She says she sorry.” Not that the apology would hold much credence. His lips brushed over hers, and he reveled in the soft, rose petal texture of them. “And that she won't try and interfere any more.”

Just seeing her, as he did now made a part of his world start spinning in the right direction. Though, he couldn't forget what Naki had said – the truth of her words still ringing in his ears. One day, Narcissa would leave him. And with the way he felt about the woman, a part of him could rightly consider that an Armageddon.

But he forced the sadness to the back of his mind, deciding that... he'd figure out how to deal with that when the time was closer. For now, he wanted nothing but for her to wrap him with her aura, hold him like she needed him to survive. He should have picked her up, and taken her back to the house so that he could get things done, but her beauty was still so staggering... that he had trouble breathing for a moment. And he wanted to stay with her for just a while longer before he gave up her company to his mother.

The good news was... Elixir would be coming to the reservation... so not only Charles and Sskoo would be healed... and he'd be able to do exactly what had been in the back of his mind since she'd asked him to stay with him for the night, two nights ago. And with her so close... he couldn't wait to show her, just how grateful he was to have her in his life.

* *

Na'a had promised to take good care of her, and Aren had trouble saying goodbye... giving Narcissa several final goodbye kisses with the thought of Just one more... and I'll be able to go. before his mother finally pulled him by the collar and towards the door. “She'll still be here when you get home, Romeo. And the longer you stall.. the longer it'll be until you can spend some time with her.”

Aren glanced at Narcissa then, his chocolate orbs telling her that he already missed her as he ducked out the door, the sound of the beat up Beetle firing up a few minutes later. It'd be too long before he could see her again... and already he missed her.

His two brothers had piled in, and the joking banter had been enough to lift his spirits, distract him enough to function without Narcissa in sight. At least, he'd have the company.. and some well deserved brother bonding time to make up for the fact that Narcissa wasn't here.

* *

Na'a turned to Cissa then, a warm smile on her face because Jean and Rachel still hadn't left, but they weren't in sight; the council had taken them away, and the pair was working with Charles on ways to improve his ability. “That boy... I didn't think he'd ever actually be able to leave your side with the way he's been acting.” She said with a chuckle, slightly teasing. “You've got him hooked better than a fish that tried to swallow an entire worm.” It was a few moments later, that she poured some more hot tea into a cup for the blond guest. “So, other than me spilling the beans on embarrassing stories about my son... what would you like to do for our mother/daughter time?” She asked, grinning like a child on Christmas morning.

“Also... is this Joshua spending the night?” Because if Rachel, Jean and Joshua were staying... Aren was going to get what he wanted in the way of spending the night with this British princess. Not that she thought that he'd willingly sleep in another room anyway... And even still... they'd be pushed for room. A part of her was embarrassed for the first time in that regard, because she couldn't house all of them comfortably. But what with government funding... having a house at all was a miracle in and of itself.

But as the mother, she felt it was her responsibility to try and instill that sort of moral code on her son... even if it was far too late for it to sink in. The trials of a mother...

“The boys won't be home for a couple of hours at least.. so we can do whatever you'd like.” She added, unsure of what exactly Narcissa would have in mind. But Aren had explained before Cissa had got here... that she had no family to speak of.. and what with the recent developments between the young couple... she was going to make Cissa feel welcomed in her home... like one of them, so that she'd never feel like she had no where to go. Just like Shandra... only a little more so.

██████████████████████➳█████████████████☭██████████████████➳██████████████████

Certain things catch your eye,
But pursue only those
that capture your heart.

[The Bunit]

Team: Alphaxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mutation: Telekinesisxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Location: Music Room with Leoxxx

xxxxxxxx

He seemed to forgive her easily enough for prying; and in response she gave one small nod of her head when he opted to switch subjects, happy to have something else to converse with the man over. Grateful that he'd not been upset with her for drudging up his somewhat horrific past. Happier still that he didn't ask to hear about why she'd chosen to remain at the academy. No, hers wasn't so traumatic, but the whole ordeal still left an acerbic taste in her mouth. It was something she'd rather not get into; her b***h of a roommate then had shattered everything she'd worked for. Everything... merely because she was a mutant.

Yep, still just a bit caustic. Well, maybe more than just a bit.

Her chin found itself poised in her hand as he began delving into his daily routine... this topic safer than the former conversation piece they'd had. She smiled when he mentioned Danger Room sessions, the expression a first when those words made their way into a sentence. Tilting her head to the side, the image that formed in her head completely fitting of the personality he'd shown her so far. “Everyone here seems so ardent about those da--”” She cut off the word before it could finish (not wanting to cuss in front of Leo, as it wasn't at all ladylike... and some habits died hard), and skipped to the next, ”things...” She shook her head disdainfully then, the smile still hinting at the corners of her mouth. “Maybe it's better when you don't have the class clown trying to poke your eye out, but in my experience, the Danger Room sessions were like the sixth circle of hell.” The laughter that accompanied the statement would allow Leo to know she was merely joking, but there was a bit of truth to it as well.

Quill had stuck her more than a few times... and the situation had been entirely unpleasant. “I guess I should brush up on my skills and stuff before the whole team goes in.” Aurelie said idly, cerulean eyes looking away then before she could be stupid enough to ask him to join her again. After all, she had to be just as boring as he thought himself.

He mentioned archery, and how it hadn't ever really fit him, and once again Aurelie's features lifted with a grin. “No feathers for you then, I take it?” She asked, slightly stifling a giggle by biting her lip.

The telekinetic sobered just a bit before continuing, needing a bit more of a serious tone for her next comment. “But it's nice to know that the Alphas doesn't suck all of the members' free time. One of my former teammates was worried about that...” Aurelie mused, wondering how soon she'd be able to snag Callie away for lunch... and a trip to the mall. The $200 visa had been reloaded, and she'd yet to spend a dime of it thus far.

Her eyes widened when he mentioned Dimitri offering a night out... and instantly thought of the green skinned boy from earlier. Wasn't his name Adam though? Christ, how many skirt-chasers were there in the school? “I don't think I've met him...” Aurelie said politely, if not just a bit offhandedly. “But, I doubt I'll catch his interest.” She wrinkled her nose then, realizing that the statement probably came off as a lack of self-confidence on her part. And it wasn't that at all, it was more just based on her experience so far. “Most of the guys think I'm too rigid to be an object of pursuit.” And by most guys, she meant Quill. Because outside of the Corsairs and schoolwork, Aurelie hadn't had much time to mingle with people who weren't her teammates. And Max definitely didn't like all the structure she insisted upon maintaining; such as going to class, not goofing off during training sessions, not overspending her money... and then how focused she'd be on the book she was reading... (her recent creative outlet since she couldn't bear to play or dance.) “But, just in case... it's bad for my health... got it.” Aurelie added, doing a thumbs up with the hand that wasn't holding her head.

The telekinetic once again listened intently on what Leo had to say, this time about the team that worked closely with the Alphas. He paused for a moment, as though paranoid someone might hear him and she waited, obviously curious as to why he hesitated. Narcissa. At least, Scott had warned her casually of that, which left her to ponder if he only told her because she'd been a part of his team before, or if he alerted all the fresh Alphas about the British girl. She stifled a bout of chuckles as he went on to describe the Omega leader, because the medical condition had been exactly what she'd thought of when she'd first heard the name.

Mean, but true.

Aurelie would have inquired about the injury, the intent to do so threaded itself between her eyebrows, a frown marring the happy expression she'd worn just moments ago. But the way he paused, meant he didn't really want to talk about what had caused it, so she stamped on her inquisitive, forbidding herself to ask what he'd not be comfortable talking about. Instead, she let her gaze take in the full sight of him, going from head to toe before landing back on his face. “If it's any difference, I can't tell you've been to physical therapy.” Just that he worked out quite a deal. Danger sessions and runs in the morning would do that to you.

She nearly jumped, obviously startled by the whisper of their leader's voice in her head, and undoubtedly in Leo's as well. "I told you I had to practice if we were going to play together." She said out loud, feeling utterly stupid for doing so, but Bella had said that the trick would work. Sapphire orbs trailed back to Leo, and she shrugged, features wracked with the nagging feeling that she'd look crazy anyway.

He changed the subject back to her, and Aurelie shifted through an assortment of things she could tell him, without making him regret that he had asked. “I really just got back into the piano... one of the teachers convinced me a few days ago to play, and I stupidly fell into the trap.” She grinned, but the events that followed had left her in a whirlwind of change. The blond chose not to go any further on that subject, as to why it was stupid now, and tried to think of things that she did do.

”You're going to think me strange... but I collect fasteners and bangles.” Her smile widened full on then, halfway standing up to pull out a button from her pocket – her current favorite. Deciding she should explain a bit so that he'd not think her completely off her rocker, she put the little blue and white button back in her pocket before taking a seat. “I wasn't allowed to wear them as a child, which is where my love for them has stemmed.” It was a small rebellion that her parents would never know of. “Actually... anything ostentatious... was forbidden.”

And of all the things that Aurelie could have been bitter about... she'd accepted being booted from the community fairly easily. And that showed in her features, he was welcome to ask why, if he wanted... but she'd not bore him to tears by going through why her childhood was so strict. Yeah, it hurt to think her parents didn't love her enough to keep her around; but the Amish community was far too rigid to allow them to, even if they'd wanted. And what with her love for dancing and playing the piano... she'd accepted the fact that she would have left during Rummspringa anyways. No actual skin off her back.

Pulling herself from those thoughts, Aurelie beamed at Leo. “So I guess you could say, it's a hobby of mine to dress in whatever would have made my hometown uncomfortable. They'd cringe if they saw my closet.” So she dressed to the nines frequently. Colored her hair... wore bangles, and clothes with as many buttons as possible... the style never failing to give her a sense of satisfaction.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

sweatdrop sorry kilos... I got carried away

[The Bunit]

Some of us, we're hardly ever here

the rest of us, we're born to disappear

How do I stop myself

being just a number?xxxxxxxxxx

How will I hold my headxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
to keep from going under?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

XXX『Time couldn't seem to move fast enough for Stana's liking. Sitting atop of her jammed suitcase, she stared at the horizon, waiting for dawn to make birth. Her ocean blue eyes didn't blink, as though the woman were afraid that she might miss the seconds of glory that came when the sun tipped over the land, shedding light on all of the city below.

Normally, the sands of time slid through her fingers; she'd never been able to grasp the small grains before they slipped away, but waiting for this particular day to begin was exhausting, taking a swipe out of what was her normally boundless energy. Today was her chance, the chance that she'd been waiting a lifetime for; and time was going at a crawling speed, moving slower than that of a snail's pace. The woman licked her lips in anticipation, dawn's light was just starting to shine through in little streams. A small smile curved her lips, and it took everything she had not to jump up and dance in bliss, somehow the fates hadn't worked against her for her to snag this opportunity. Somehow, the day she'd been waiting for was finally here, and soon she'd be one of the fourteen people recognized, their names showered in endless fame.

The buggy she'd scheduled to pick her up at precisely 5:00 rolled up, crunching the pebbles beneath its wheel and alerting Stana to come back to reality, to stand up and welcome what was ahead of her. Stana nearly bounced to her feet in one lithe movement, a smile planted on her face when the coachman greeted her with the tip of his hat. He stepped off, and loaded up her trunk with a heave before assisting the petite woman up into the coach. "Thank you." She said brightly, unable to contain her excitement that was bubbling throughout her. Stana sat back in her seat, her hands beneath her thighs to keep them from fiddling with the buttons that decorated the plush bench in the compartment of the buggy.

"If we could make it there at 5:20, I'd be greatly appreciative of your speed." The woman said, leaning forward just a bit so that the driver would better hear her. "I can't afford to start off late." The latter was more to herself, more of a resolve for her not to let the perpetual tardiness that was normally considered fashionable to take over the course of the day.

Though, they truly couldn't leave her behind. They had need of her and her plethora of knowledge. Why she'd not gotten the lead with her qualifications still struck a rather irritable chord within her. After all... the leader would get all the credit for the group's work, get the fame and recognition that she so desperately wanted. No, she needed. The group needed her like she needed the limelight, and she'd do whatever it took to get it. One day soon, her name would be on the lips of many in the city. It was a dream of hers, and while many thought it silly, she considered it an inevitability with how hard she was working to achieve that goal.

The coachman nodded, throwing back a coy smile over his shoulder as he took in the woman with the fair complexion. "We've one more scheduled stop before we reach the docks. I would believe that it would be part of the group that is meeting this morning." With that, he shook the reigns, and the buggy lurched forward, onward to the next stop. This would be splendid. So long as it weren't the leader of the group - whose name she hadn't bothered to catch - everything would be kosher. Perhaps they could speak of ambitions, expectations while they were making their way to the airship. So many questions and ideas flavored her tongue, making it heavy with the desire to speak of the upcoming expedition. Plus, it'd be nice to get to know one person before they all met up as a group so that she'd not be wholly alone when facing the others.

This was her last chance for the big times; she could feel it in the very marrow of her bones. So it'd be important to make good impression before they set off for the world below. The notion made her smooth the line of her skirt nervously, and her fingers combed through the long strawberry blonde tresses, making sure that there weren't any knots mangling her appearance. Stana exhaled, the sigh sufficient evidence that her nerves were frayed with anxiety. "You've already made it in." The small woman reassured herself. "This isn't an audition.. they chose you." Somehow, her usually vain fibers had deserted her, leaving her vulnerable for the seeds of doubt to eat away at her being. Stana could only hope that with the presence of another, those nervous feelings might disappate and her charismatic nature would return to embrace the group.
She stared out the window, letting the fleeting thoughts of leaving behind all that she'd known pass with the landscape. 』




Down to the wire
I wanted water but
But I'll walk through the fire
If this is what it takes
To take me even higher
Then I'll come through
Like I do
When the world keeps
Testing me, testing me, testing me

[The Bunit]

ɦᾶȵɡμℓ ȿσℓ∂ϊεя Ҫ
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀ ▀ ▀▀▀▀ ▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀

It was quiet in the classroom, save one droning voice and the scratching of writing utensils to notebook pads. Already, Tempest was growing antsy in her seat. Classroom settings so weren't good for her hyperactive mind. She should have been jotting down the symbols on the board, making little detailed reminders about how to integrate by parts for the derivative. Instead, the pencil she'd come to class with was strung across her composition notebook at an angle, looking as though she'd carelessly tossed it down, paying no mind to the fact that it was definitely supposed to be in her hand.

Out of pure and unadulterated boredom, Tempest picked at her pinkie's cuticles, tugging at a hangnail that had formed during the last period at some point, finding that the loose skin there to be far more entertaining than her teacher. Her ears barely caught the phrase, "e^x*cos(3x)." One little sliver of skin was still firmly attached at the base of her nail, and rather than letting it alone, the young girl bit at it with her teeth until it tore free. A small drop of blood escaping the hole that she'd just created on her finger. "Ouch." She muttered, under her breath; perhaps she should have waited until all of the skin died before mutilating her nail beds. Tempest quickly popped the stinging finger into her mouth to suck on the wound for comfort. Yes, even the best of fighters tended to babies at times when it came to minor hurts. Tempest and her hangnail were no exception.

She'd barely noticed the fact that the teacher had sauntered over to her desk, spying the notes that she hadn't been taking. The man stared at her with a blank expression that could only be taken two ways: a.) he was daft or b) he was rather irritated by Tempest's nonchalant attitude and blatant disrespect in his classroom. Tempest bit her lip playfully and grinned as she held up the affronted finger. "Hangnail." That simple phrase should say enough. He should sympathize; after all, they were irritating and stung like hell. Apparently, Chir-lang wasn't of the same opinion, and the teacher was just nefarious enough that he might just call her out and expect her to answer a question on what he'd been harping on and on about.

Her ruby stare dared him to, eyes glimmering with mischief that had always been hers and hers alone. The sophomore's eyebrows crept upwards, towards her hairline, wrinkling her forehead for a moment long enough to be considered a dramatic pause. "Miss Trang," The man started in a tone that rung to her ears as patronizing, "Might you explain how to integrate e^(2x) cos (3x), just to show your peers that you do care about your advanced calculus class enough not to disrupt the others' learning for the sake of a trifling sliver of dead flesh that is the direct cause of your inability to take care of things?" Wow. That was a mouthful. Tempest thought to herself once her beady eyed instructor had finished wording his query.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking to the front of the classroom as he continued with his snide remarks, "Considering the fact that your notebook lacks any hint that you were taking in the information the dictation from my lesson, I'm most certainly curious to see how well you retain information without so much at looking at the board." The last had a bit of a bite to it, and Tempest might have been offended if she'd not just gone through the same conversation with her Poly Sci instructor in the previous hour.

Tempest merely blinked at the man as she started to squeeze at her finger for more blood, attempting to push the crimson liquid out for something to occupy her already straying mind. "Actually, it's not totally lacking in an attempt to listen to the monotony that I find to be your voice." She gave a big cheesy smile to those in her class before holding it up with the enthusiasm of a kindergartner's turn at show and tell. "I put the date on there." Plus there were a few abstract doodles of loops and curly lines. This had been one of her better days; normally she was drawing stick figure comics by now. Mostly the crude drawings were of a man running, getting mauled by a stick figure puppy. Today she'd not been so completely out of her mind with boredom that there hadn't been a direction to the afternoon sketches. Today, they'd been just like her mother's life... going absolutely nowhere on an all day train.

She smiled at the thought, her memories already drifting from the classroom to the tan, strawberry blonde diva that was her mother. The older woman was more than merely pretty, tall, muscular, and the charisma most would be ten shades of green from envy. Really, Tempest's mother, Kali had the whole package, save a few packing peanuts that were metaphorically the ability to be a responsible adult. Such standards didn't fit well with Kali, as she fully believed that life should be lived, not mourned, and most 'responsible' people were unhappy because they kept to their duties.

Though the one time that her mother's erratic behavior might have worked to Tempest's benefit, Kali had literally freaked. Instead of being apathetic about the fact that Tempest's uneven temper had reared its ugly head on the school's premises, the maternal instinct had awakened with a fervent vengeance that the daughter hadn't thought possible. It'd been one little fight. Not even worth the tizzy really, and it would have been completely inconsequential if she'd not been ripped off the girl she'd been pounding on. Felicity had it coming. It'd been many moons in the making, and the utterances of the rumors she'd sent flying around the school about Tempest's best friend, Leigh, had been the final straw in the haystack for the auburn haired girl's ire to bubble forth and defend her bestie. No, she definitely didn't have to use all that force, methodically discombobulating her, breaking her nose, her jaw, and Tempest had cracked three of the girl's ribcage. It'd been a messy fight, and it hadn't helped at all that she'd walked away nearly unscathed. Felicity certainly had not, and two of the other girls had an overnight hospital visit. Had Tempest been able to stay in the San Francisco region, she might have been legend. The five foot firecracker. Here in Korea? The story didn't hold much credence, especially since she was the least in ranks of the gang. No one would be too interested in things happened across seas, because they could think she was just fabricating a story along just to get some street cred. That was why none of the gang knew exactly why she was here; the reasons were on a need to know basis, and as far as Tempest was concerned, putting out her past would only make her sound like a braggart. Somehow, she'd get the reputation that she would have had in Cali; after all, she did have three years left. Surely something would happen that would prove her worth in the gang, even if she remained a "C" til senior year. Authoritative positions weren't her cup of tea in a normal setting, and really, she was only just learning about the culture differences between her home here and the life she'd left behind.

The big problem today, was that the teachers were much more strict. In a public school, Tempest could have picked at her nails all day, painted them, applied her makeup in class, and the teachers wouldn't have cared, so long as she did well on her assignments. Here? Here was a different story altogether, and the sudden ringing in her ears sounded oddly repetitive. "MISS TRANG! MISS TRANG?" The man repeated for the fifth time, the last set of which was correlated with him tapping at her desk in an attempt to get the glazed over-look that had formulated in her eyes to disappear. Sometimes it was like she was completely unconscious, off in another world in her head. "Snap out of it Miss Trang."

Tempest shook off her thought process when she was so rudely interrupted, and found her chin resting on her hand, elbow on the desk with her posture hunched forward. Again, the auburn haired girl blinked, and re-situated herself in her chair. "Oh! Sorry! What?" Her eyes became wide, as though she'd actually commit her undivided attention to the classroom setting.

Her instructor rolled his eyes up towards the heavens, seeking patience that only God could give. "You were to answer how to integrate e^(2x) cos (3x)." He pointed to the problem that had been written in chalk, and waited again for her to solve it. There wasn't any possible way that she'd have heard enough to solve the equation.

Tempest's stare shifted to the board, and she focused on the steps involved to determine the solution. Wow, integrals have gotten harder. The trick was though, at least from what Tempest could determine, was to focus on the left side after the first few steps and treat it as an equation. "hmm..." She hummed between her pursed lips. "Were you not so meticulous with describing every step in a different line, I might actually be lost." She murmured and then looked up with a confident grin. With that, the small slip of a person stood abruptly from her chair, and sauntered to the chalkboard with a spring in her step that one wouldn't have expected. Quickly, she copied the steps, adjusting it accordingly to the precise question he'd asked, and once she was done writing, the girl tilted her head to the side, the curtain of her long reddish brown hair swaying with the gesture as she looked to the incredulous teacher before her. She rocked back onto her heels and then to her toes again while she awaited his reaction, and to see if she was in fact correct with the solution she'd come up with in her head.

He fought the urge to gawk, and his jaw ticked in frustration. She'd done a sufficient job of making an a** out of him, and all she could do was appear innocent, as if she'd done nothing to provoke his calling her out. "Make sure to pay attention in the future, Miss Trang." He managed to utter in a cool tone, despite his teeth being clenched together in pure aggravation.

Tempest shrugged, as though his warning meant little to her. Really though, it didn't, so it was not a stretch for her to act so nonchalant. "In all honesty sir," Tempest started in a tone that was free from the arrogance she felt, "that is, if you don't mind me stating my opinion, I think you wasted more time to get my attention than what was necessary. Really, you're wasting valuable class time trying to embarrass a student that simply does not care." She leaned back, sliding into a slouch against the head of her chair and crossed her legs at her ankles as she waved her hand in the air, motioning for him to continue with his lecture. "So go on." She insisted, her hand flying wildly towards the chalkboard, "Back to your job that you're getting paid for. Teach us avid learners." The smirk painted on her face paired with her antics caused a few of the other students to snigger.

Chir-lang sighed heavily; Tempest Trang had done a number on him already, and it was still very early into the semester, which didn't bode well for what the remainder of the year would be like. How was someone from a line of military academies adamantly insistent upon toeing the lines for expected student conduct? And why, out of all the advanced arithmetic teachers on campus, had he been the one to catch the mouthy, know-it-all sophomore? "See me after class Miss Trang."

A few sharp inhales from her peers indicated that they thought she was going to be dished a juicy punishment, or at least a very thorough tongue lashing for her behavior. Tempest merely smiled, hints of the smug attitude lining her features. "Fine. It's a date then." She said with a giggle, completely agreeable and pleasant, though... given the fact that it was the last class of the day, she had no intention of actually doing as Chir-lang bade.

As far as Tempest was concerned, she'd done nothing wrong. She'd managed to solve the integral to the correct solution, despite her teacher's confidence that she wouldn't, and really... he couldn't hold the fact she was disrupting class when he'd antagonized the situation, on top of the fact that he'd initiated the confrontation with her.

Besides, Chir-lang was a teacher, someone who had to have access to her past records. And if he'd any notion to look it up, he might have seen that his smart-alec transfer student had never dropped below a 3.6 grade point average, but there would likely be a few notes about how she competed with a sick goldfish for the world's shortest attention span. It was a wonder that she passed her courses, let alone received good marks.

But somehow, she'd always gotten to studying - it was just on her own time, and no amount of the teachers pleading or scolding would persuade her to alter her stubborn ways.

The tedious sound of his instructing commenced again, and Tempest's mind drifted from the class once more. She stared at the clock... twenty-five more minutes of tuning out the droning voice that dominated the classroom. A small sigh escaped her and Tempest picked up her pencil, making more loops on the page as her thoughts wandered to a place six months back: to the day after the fight.

> > > The corner of Tempest's mouth pulled down into a frown as she relived it. It'd been the first time her mother had ever screamed at her.

"You put two people in the hospital Tempest Rae! Overnight! What on earth were you thinking?! That pulverizing them was going to fix the problem?" Hot tears of anger and panic streamed down Kali's face.

"Mom, I only meant to pummel Felicity! The things she was saying about Leigh-" Tempest tried to defend herself, voice raised to match her mother's, but Kali held a hand up to silence her, and Tempest didn't dare disobey her mother.

"Your anger got the best of you yesterday, Tempest. And it doesn't matter what they said about Leigh; she's a big girl, and words are just that. Words." Kali sighed heavily and rubbed her brow with the span of one of her hands. "They had to pry you off of that girl. The teacher said she thought you were going to kill her." The pain etched in the older woman's voice was evident, and the whole of her shook with a mix of indescribable emotions. "What am I supposed to do with you if you can't hold your fists of fury down and think rationally?"

"Those girls jumped my back while I was," The word pounding came to mind, but she thought better of saying it, "fighting Felicity. I had to defend myself before one of them stabbed me with their pocket knife." Honestly, who wore pocket knives anymore? Weren't they out of style?

Anger roared back into Kali's tone as her voice picked up a few notches of volume. "YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN FIGHTING IN THE FIRST PLACE!" Kali threw her hands on either side of her, wringing them in and out of fists as an attempt to get herself to calm down. "Tempest, your entire attitude has flopped from the sweet tempered little girl you used to be to this... this." She waved her hands about Tempest's body dramatically. "What on God's land are you so angry about that you feel the need to physically let out your aggression?"

Tempest stared at her beautiful mother, and blinked a few times before answering. "Mom, it was one fight. So not the end of the world." Her mother was blowing this whole thing out of proportion, and after the beat down that she'd delivered to those three girls, no one was going to mess with her again. There wasn't a need to fret about this; future fights would be avoided altogether. "I didn't change. I defended my very best friend on the planet after some more than derogatory slurs were slapped onto her name." The auburn haired girl stepped up to her mother and laid her hands squarely on her shoulders, trying to make the woman get a grip. "I'm the same sweet girl that you loved two days ago. So I got into a bit of trouble; it doesn't change who I am. Leigh needed me yesterday, and I delivered what I could." Perhaps a bit too well, but that wasn't the point. As a best friend, you were supposed to have each other's backs, and Leigh was too big of a pacifist to do something about the situation.

So, when Felicity had sneered another horrible word in Leigh's direction, Tempest lost it. She saw nothing but red, wanting no less than to see Felicity got punished for being so heartless. No one deserved those names, especially not someone as wonderful as Leigh. The trouble had been going on for weeks, and when Tempest finally got the proof she needed to justify what she had been planning to do to the little b***h, she jumped on the opportunity to start making Felicity's life a living hell.

Never had she intended to beat her into the ground. More like, mace to her underwear, visine in her water bottles, and a whole new set of rumors that could ruin Felicity's reputation. But Felicity had said one word too many.

Kali shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Tempest, you've been expelled, and with your current behavior, I can't send you to a public school. Who knows what mischief you'd get into there?" She sighed... sending Tempest away wasn't the easiest decision for her to come to, but it was in the best interest of her daughter. "No, I called your father this morning, and he's booked air tickets for you to go and live with him until you come to your senses and start behaving like the young lady you've been brought up to be."

What? Live, with her dad? But he was currently based in Korea. Korea. It was impossible for her to wrap her head around. "NO! I won't go! Korea? Really? Why not ship me off to boarding school? It's too far! And Leigh is here." Wasn't that the whole reason she'd gotten into the fight anyway?

Kali's voice overpowered her outraged daughter's. "Tempest I don't have a choice! You didn't leave me any, and I'm just not equipped to handle a headstrong teenage girl!" She huffed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but you and your dad are close, and Korea won't be that bad. You'll be able to start over, make new friends... friends that won't be afraid of you because you hospitalized two girls. Plus Felicity has six weeks of recuperating to do, on top of the fact that she's likely mentally scarred."

Tempest rolled her eyes, highly doubting that something would stick in Felicity's hollow skull long enough to traumatize her. "Mom," she couldn't help the mocking smile that clung to her face, "Felicity would first have to be mentally competent for the fight with me to leave a lasting impression." But after all, Felicity had grated on Tempest's nerves before rumors started circulating. The girl couldn't even formulate a complete sentence without intertwining it with chat speak or some pea-brained shortened version of the word. And her voice, high to the point of sounding like the strings in her voice box had been permanently frozen by inhaling too much helium, had always been a source of irritation. Man how it worked on Tempest's nerves, words like, "Kraaay kray" for "crazy," and "glit glit," for glitter, or even "tomarsss" for tomorrow. How anyone was able to hold a conversation with the b***h had always escaped Tempest; the girl was dim-witted and fake.

Kali merely glowered at her daughter. "That is not funny, Tempest. And you know it's not funny. Now isn't the time to be making light of the fact that you seriously hurt three people." She folded her arms against her chest, and Tempest backed off, because the look on her mother's face was enough to end the discussion.

She'd tried every which way to convince her mother that she'd not have any more problems, tried to give alternatives to living in a foreign country, had even begged to not leave. Kali heard none of it, determined for Tempest to be Rick's problem until she could behave.

Five days later, Tempest found herself on a plane with a one way ticket to her own personal version of hell. < < <

And that thought brought her back to calculus, where she had the odd sensation of a stare burning into her neck. With subtle movements so as to not tip off Chir-lang off that she was again, not paying attention, Tempest stretched her body with a plausible yawn, and her eyes easily caught the boy with a fixated gaze on her.

Not knowing what else to do to get him to stop, Tempest slid her eyes on the teacher to see that he wasn't paying attention, and stuck her tongue out at the boy when she was sure she'd not cause another argument with the high-minded man.

The boy, whose name she had no desire to learn didn't adjust his eyes else where, so Tempest scribbled onto the page that was dedicated for today's notes, in big, bold writing, "Take a picture; it'll last longer." She held it up for him to see, and the boy's cheeks reddened as he turned back to his notes.

Tempest suppressed a giggle at his reaction. She'd definitely caused enough trouble for the day, and again her eyes sidled to the clock above the door. Five minutes. That was all that was left of this montonous day.

Quickly, the auburn haired girl jotted down the equations on the board in a new page of her notebook, considering the one dedicated to today's class had been commandeered for the sake of embarrassing the boy. By the time that she'd finished copying the last symbol, the bell chimed through the speaker system, and Tempest sighed in relief. She flipped the book shut and gathered it and a few others into her arms before standing up, getting ready to leave.

Chir-lang interrupted her path, preventing her from leaving before he got the last word between them. "Miss Trang, I'm quite sure you agreed to stay and chat with me, just a half an hour ago." It was condescending, low and quite smug. Several of the students were dawdling in the classroom still, making an attempt to look innocent of being nosy. They were searching for pencils that they'd pretended to lose to the floor, several were taking their time gathering their things, reorganizing them so that they'd be perfect.

Tempest didn't care they had an audience, but had forgotten that he wished to speak with her once the bell rang. "I'm sorry. I plum spaced that conversation." The sad part was, she was being mostly honest. She vaguely remembered the fact that they'd had a tiff about her speaking in class, but when the bell rang, her focus had fallen strictly to getting home. She sighed; he was going to make her miss her ride, and in which case she'd have to walk to the hideout. Slowly, while she waited for the verbal whiplash that she was sure Chir-Lang was going to give to her, Tempest searched her over the shoulder bag's front pocket, feeling for her cell phone so that she could inform Han-Sol and the others that she was going to be a bit late showing up. It wasn't there. Damnit... I've lost the little bugger again. Well, hopefully Sol wouldn't be depending on her to respond to a text message. "But what's up?" She prompted, wanting to hurry this little conference along.

Chir-Lang's dark eyes narrowed as he glowered at her. "You know very well what is up." His 'p' was emphasized a little too much, and Tempest might have made a smart little comment if he hadn't continued to shove icy words in her face. "Your display today was intolerable. I'll not have you blatantly disrespect me in my classroom."

Tempest couldn't stop her response from flowing out if she had wanted to. "So, subtly then?" She asked, and by the time she'd realized that she'd actually said her thoughts aloud, she clamped her mouth shut. Oops. "I mean," The girl searched for the words that might undo the last and came up with nothing that she'd actually say without acid flavoring her tongue. Instead she stared at him and grinned.

He wasn't amused. "Tempest Trang, you are not to give me anymore problems for the duration of the semester." His voice was firm, adamant that she take him seriously. "I want you to be showing me your notes for class before leaving out of that door." One hand followed the portal that she was intending to use to vacate the premises. "Just so that I know that you were paying attention."

Tempest shrugged. "Whatever you say. Though, if you look at my school file, it shows that I have a very bad attention span. If you don't make shiny objects cross the chalkboard periodically, I'm likely to not give my full focus to the lesson." She said, not meeting his eyes as she found the grained pattern on his desk far more interesting. "Can I go now?" Pulling her eyes that had been tracing the wood grain pattern on his desk, she directed them to his beady stare, defiant enough that if he didn't agree, she would leave any way.

He sighed in defeat. Threats weren't going to work on her. "I've read your file, as transfers usually indicate promise. Your GPA is high, but it shows that the last school you attended you were expelled from. It says there that you sent a few girls to the hospital." He didn't want to ask about the gang and whether or not she'd joined, so that he had plausible deniability. But a part of him was extremely intrigued that this little five foot slip of a blossoming woman had been so ferocious to her own classmates.

The auburn haired girl glared at Chir-Lang, and the few students that were still in the room had likely heard that, and it wasn't something she wanted to get out. This was the sort of place that if people knew you were a bad a**, they'd come looking for a fight, just to easy if they could best you. Tempest had only gotten so violent because Felicity had been so horrible to Leigh. It was the type of hot anger mixing with cold, and Tempest wasn't sure if she could recreate that energy if she were forced to. "I'd appreciate it if you kept that little bit to yourself. It's not the best thing to have leaked about you. Now if you'll excuse me." She shoved past him, not daring herself to gage the spectators for their reaction to what Chir-Lang had outed about her. Likely by tomorrow, half the school would know and her determination to build street credibility while she was here would be shot. And what if the other members found out? So far, she'd been good to keep it out of conversation and had lied saying that her mother was too irresponsible and spastic to see that Tempest get taken care of.

Guess I'll find out tomorrow when they hear about it. She thought glumly to herself as she stalked out the door and to her locker. There she deposited a few books to lighten her load, and grabbed a few notebooks that she'd need to review before class tomorrow. And with that, she was off.

The chilly air nipped at her cheeks on her walk to the hideout, (she'd decided to skip going home, being that she didn't have her cell phone in case any of them needed her), and Tempest zipped up the brown hoodie to her neckline. "I miss California." She muttered, bitterly looking towards the grey skies above her. The clouds and air weren't anything like home; and she'd never had to wear a hoodie over her normal attire in the states. No, she'd been able to bask in the sun all year round, letting it warm her to her toes.

It didn't take long for her to reach her destination and she smiled at those who had already made their way to the hangout. "Good afternoon, ladies and gents." It was all she gave them before she smiled sheepishly. "I lost my phone... again so if any of you sent something... it was lost on me." She sighed. Hopefully they'd not be irritated, considering this was about a once a week occurrence. "Sorry." Tempest added the last as an attempt to make up for her absentmindedness.

After she said her peace, she took a seat, not bothering to fix her lazy posture. As C soldier, she'd said plenty as a way of introductions for the evening. Plus, she didn't know what else to add. To ask when the next fight was coming would make her sound like a rookie, to ask for updates would be stupid considering they were normally done through text messages. Maybe someone would fill her in on the details, considering the way she practically repelled things she was supposed to keep track of.

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What's the matter with your life?
Why you gotta mess with mine?
Don't keep sweatin' what I do
'cause I'm gonna be just fine

[The Bunit]

↞ Liam Balin↠
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Liam thrust his sword one more time at the dummy in anger, the movement accompanied with an aggressive grunt. Obviously, he wasn't exactly thrilled about his new assignment. The King's second knight in command, reduced to the position of a body guard when there was an impending attack on the castle? To be reduced to the lowly status of a serf instead of the high classed knight that he was, no.. he was far from happy. He was downright insulted.

Liam had worked too long, had trained too hard to be put aside as if he were nothing. He was being pushed from where he felt he belonged, his skills would be better put to use on the battlefield, not chasing around the princess why she played student in the midst of her kingdom's war. What good would he be away from his familiar surroundings, away from what he'd been preparing for since he was just a small lad?

A feral growl escaped him as the post fell to the ground; he'd done quite a number on it, and had only wished it had been the general's face. Why had he let the transfer of positions take place? Princess Rosalie was it? The princess who thrived in the practice fields... he'd like to spar with her, but given his current temper, he'd probably mar her pretty face.

She'd be at a bloody safe haven, far from any battlefield, learning no doubt on the etiquette to be proper, how to rule with a "gentle" hand.. How much trouble would come of her there? Really? Was it really necessary to send her with one of the best knights that the kingdom had to offer? Couldn't a lesser knight take the responsibility of the undoubtedly insufferable girl?

"Consider it an honor." Liam mimicked Manolito's words. How could he consider such a degrading, thankless position an honor? Because he should consider himself lucky to be graced with the princess' presence night and day? That he got to be around to watch her be safe? Liam hardly considered that an honor.

The post, he decided as he glowered at it lying on the ground, wasn't helping to calm his temper. Normally his anger didn't come through in a hot rage, but was cold, seething. Heated anger would either pass, or melt into his normally icy demeanor. Being that he was now stuck with the princess, he was thinking the latter was more probable.

Liam lifted the post and replaced it in its rightful position before he sheathed his sword in its scabbard and stomped off of the training grounds to wash up. He kept his head high, posture rigidly perfect, though his eyes were ablaze, and the tick in his mouth gave away his true mood. No one dared to cross him as he made his way around the grounds, the energy his Chi giving off having a dangerous edge to it. The atmosphere didn't lie; Liam was dangerous when he was this angry, and the Chi was doing everyone a favor to warn them to steer clear.

Liam went directly to Manolito - the first knight in the guard - and slammed his knuckles into the man's desk. Manolito merely glanced over the top of his half moon spectacles with a smirk painting his expression. If it wouldn't get him executed, Liam would have easily wiped that look from his superior's face. "I beg you reconsider." He said, his tone not begging at all. "What good am I to a princess? I'm no babysitter." His was five years his charge's senior, that constituted him babysitting her.

Manolito simply shook his head once to express that the decision was final. "Princess Rosalie will need someone responsible to look after her while she is in Veritas' Kingdom, someone who has a level head and can assist her with her lessons that she'll have there."

"So hire her a tutor!" Liam retorted in a huff. His voice was a rolling thunder to even his own ears. "I'm no squire. I'm no bodyguard. I am a warrior and this..." he tried to think of a word that wouldn't get him extra hours of muck duty. "assignment" Liam managed to squeeze the word out from between his teeth, "is utterly insulting to my reputation, to the skills that I have to offer to the war efforts."

Manolito smiled, it was one of contemptuous triumph. Manolito was seventeen years older than the man who was second in command, and he couldn't help but think that Liam would take his place in the next six months or so. Getting him transferred was a way to secure his position in the King's Guard. He couldn't stomach Liam's success, watching Liam grow to be the man that he had become had literally made him sick. He'd done everything he could to foil the man's progress, but it'd done little to slow him down. This was a sure fire plan to stop Liam from usurping the position from him.

Liam's eyes narrowed as he stared straight into his superior's eyes, understanding now the motives behind the switch. "This was your idea. You wanted me gone. Isn't enough that you hold the most esteemed position in the kingdom, short of the nobles?" Gods above, the jealousy that Liam harbored towards the man was enough to make a person choke. His anger bubbled over, and Liam couldn't stop his fist from landing a punch squarely in the man's jaw, the blow completely dislocating it from the skull on the one side. It would be a painful recovery for Manolito, and with the satisfaction of knowing that Manolito would also miss the first battle, Liam turned and left his office.

No, Liam still wasn't happy about his charge, but now he knew why, and that there would be nothing to change it. He started on his search to see if the princess was ready to go to the blasted school. He checked her room first, and found only a few hints that she'd already packed. Eventually he gave up, and asked one of the serfs where she would most likely be. The woman shrugged after some very thorough contemplation and he glowered towards the heavens.

She might well have already left. Without protection from him, and rendering him even more useless than what the position had already made him. With no sign of her still being on the palace grounds, Liam growled low in his throat.


Yes, this assignment was going to be his own personal hell.

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Too many lost.
Links in a chain passed down through the years,
But ending here, if we just face the pain and the fear...

[The Bunit]

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
Mathis Jordan
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

Unaffiliated Third floor. Somewhere between failing and perhaps getting things right this go around.

Mathis had been rather focused on the tidbits of conversation that had sounded low in his ears, trying to catch anything that might be a bit off from what would be expected of this event. Anything suspect, and he'd be sure to report it to Shandra or Narcissa. Nothing had come up yet, and the lack of stimulation caused him to twitch in his suit, finding the formal threads quite uncomfortable, itchy even.

Kaleen wasn't far off, and he made a small wave of his hand in one hurried gesture, still feeling like a complete failure for his sorry attempt at striking up a conversation with the woman so wonderfully clad in the silken green dress. Quickly, Mathis averted his stare elsewhere, hoping she was far enough away not to see the heat that was likely burning his cheeks a new color. But hell, everyone got embarrassed sometime, right?

He sighed, and tried once more to tolerate the liquid courage in his glass. Perhaps then he'd become relaxed enough to do better in the social setting. One drop on his tongue bade him otherwise, though, and the technopath none too hastily deposited the nearly full glass on a passing tray. Mathis' steps appeared deliberate, as though he had an order he was following to zip through the display cases. He'd been so intent that he nearly failed to see Angeline approach. Oh god. Golden orbs widened in surprise as the red dressed figure made it over to stand next to him. Please don't let me make a fool of myself. Who was he kidding? Him being in company of someone so attractive was bound to push Mathis into a stuttering frenzy.

A french accent. God, Mathis thought he might faint at the sound of velvet being directed towards him. Angeline's hand found his arm, bidding the now dumbfounded man to speak, despite the apprehension that he already felt for failing so epically at his attempts to talk to Kaleen. Smile. Damn you. Smile. He tried to run through Kimki's redundant lectures of how to be sociable. At the time, he thought it a waste of time; now, regret poured into his veins and coursed through him. Maybe he should have paid better attention when she'd been so insistant upon teaching him out to behave. A small smile played on his lips, flashing his white teeth for a brief moment before his vocal chords decided to cooperate. "Hello," Oh s**t. I don't remember the french term. Recover before she thinks you a blumbering fool.. Truth be told, he was impressed; his first word had come out completely audible. Be yourself. Be honest. Kimki's voice droned on in his memories, and he really wished that he could remember more than just the broken and scattered fragments of her drilling him. "P-pleasant enough, I would assume." Mathis managed, sighing when only one mishap in his answer occurred.

Let her talk about herself; center the conversation on her. Girls like to talk about themselves. "Better now that I have company to stave off the edges of the night." Kimki might have winked here, added a flirtatious flare to the conversation. Mathis however, simply chose to allow the smile to go a bit crooked for a second before falling back down into the cordial expression he'd held before. "How about you? Fairing well this evening and enjoying the wonders that we've the chance to scrutinize?" Kimki would be proud; and that thought eased the tension in his shoulders a bit. Not once had he been tempted to drone on about how utterly awkward he felt, or how utterly bored he was growing with the mundane chatter about the gallery. Nothing of import. Nothing to make him useful or interesting.

But at least, he now had someone to keep him occupied for however long they might be able to go back and forth. Make mention of how wonderful she looks. Mathis' eyes bravely, yet subtly roamed to take in Angeline's figure, taking in with appreciation at the sights before him. His tongue became made of lead, and he had this image of him attempting to say, "You look ravishing," turning into "You resemble radishes." Needless to say, he thought better of it, deciding to hold off until she answered his query before trying to compliment her. In an effort to not be caught gawking at the womanly being before him, Mathis ripped his eyes from the dress and fought hard to remain focused on Angeline's own blue ones, one place where they might not get into trouble.

[The Bunit]

xxxxx► ► ► Muir Isle

Her incredulity was bewildering; microwavable meals were commonplace. The slight lilt in her voice was cute, a note that he dismissed as easily as he'd made it. “Convenience, when you're on a timed schedule... is completely necessary.” And he'd already gotten a mini fridge in his office, packed full of microwave dinners so that he'd be able to survive without the need to cook. “And they are usually better than MRE's.” He said with a shrug.

While she had been raised in a family that loved the time together – he'd not been so lucky. His mother, a well hidden fact, was still very much alive, but living in a sanatorium because of her own mutation. And his adopted mother, hadn't liked him much when she discovered that he was putting things in his mind – herself included. His sister likely didn't know he existed as she was adopted out in America. Since then, his family life had been very... clinical. Rigid in structure, and routine.

“You're going to make me cook?” He asked dryly, a smile hiding in his expression. “Or are you going to be the chef until I hire one?” He didn't need to explain that his own cooking, was lazy. There were a few meals that he was decent at making, but those were saved for special occasions, and Giselle was an employee; it wouldn't feel appropriate to make her dinners that he made his girlfriends. So many staff members that needed to be hired... He made a mental note to look into that particular role on base as soon as the kitchen was cleaned. “I don't drink, but a meal made not out of my freezer would be nice on occasion.”

“Then we'd fire the cook.” Keiran said, grinning. “Or we'd simply think that the shrimp had been cross bred with a lobster.” Which, admittedly would be interesting. Idly he wondered if any of the scientists had tried to do something like that.

She teased him, and Keiran shook his head. “The lab assistants refuse to answer to their first names most days... I've grown accustomed to it.” That and the level of formality was common with him. “Though, it'd be a fair assessment for me to be that forgetful... What was it again, Betty?” He asked returning her teasing jibes with one of his own. “Gail?” His blue eyes searched upward, as though he couldn't place it.

His offering to pay had made him feel the need to express that she should be more at ease, that her boss wasn't trying to seduce her. That would never happen, what with Keiran's constant need to be professional in the work place. As attractive as she was – Keiran couldn't involve himself with someone who worked for him. “So you do that on dates, hm?” He asked, raising a brow at her pinky remark.

She went on then about what she liked, didn't like... never catching on (thankfully) that he was doing this to save himself from doing the same thing. Instead he ate his food, quietly redirecting the conversation to herself when it was needed.

“Moira always kept it in tip top shape. And would always rebuild rather speedily when it was set under attack.” Keiran said, a note of dejection lacing his tone. Her death had been harder to swallow than anyone would likely realize. “After she died, there wasn't anyone here to hire a construction team. The lab assistants are often useless outside of looking through a microscope.” Sad, but true. And they'd let their home rot away to its current ruin. Giselle mentioned the saying about Muir, and Keiran closed his eyes. “In my experience, it has been. But, hopefully bringing a different setting to the table will change that.” Else, the kids were going to be in a lot of danger. Didn't Emma realize that?

“I'd appreciate your input when it comes to senior members for the base.” He said honestly. “Of course, they'll go through an interview process if they are wishing to teach, but other than that.. I'll read up on their file upon their agreeing to come here.” She ate her dinner without complaint, seeming to enjoy it. A part of him wanted to teach her how to properly use the chopsticks, but how she had cheated only amused him enough that he couldn't bring himself to offer. Besides, what she was doing worked for her... who was he to burst her bubble that he knew?

She started listing off things that she planned to buy, and Keiran nodded when appropriate, and only interjected once when she asked if there was something he wouldn't eat. “I don't eat red meat.” He said slowly, trying to think of other things he wouldn't eat. Pickles for starters... anything pickled was definitely off the menu. And cottage cheese was something he tended to shy away from. Plus, usually he stayed away from french fries. But he doubted that she'd be making fried potato wedges, given her other job.

“I'll clean the kitchen... so long as you don't file the unsorted files in the office – I still need to read them.” Because he'd be thorough, and read every single file that his office kept. Just the way Moira would have expected. And while many wouldn't see the point, Keiran would make the effort, go through the motions to make her proud. No, he'd never be as amazing as the woman had been... but he'd at least try to not do her injustice.

**

The market was busy, and probably vastly different than what Giselle was used to – a detail that he'd not taken note of until her eyes widened at the sights. The stands were close together; often pyramids of fruits in each crate, and the marketer in the middle of four oblong tables, biting out the sales and deals he was willing to give them for the day. There were little vinyl awnings about four feet over the top of the table tops, despite the fact that it wasn't too warm that the sun would feel blistering. Admittedly, the sights were different to him as well – he didn't often venture out to the bustling crowds if it could be helped.

She was quiet – something he'd not expected. Rather, he'd anticipated her giggles ensuing as she went through the market, picking up items and depositing them in a basket. He obviously, paid right behind her, making sure that she'd need not worry about anything other than enjoying the new atmosphere. Making conversation, Giselle asked about Oxford – a subject that he could speak well in, without giving away too much of himself. “It's better. The architecture is unprecedented in quality... Something I think you will thoroughly enjoy.” The good news was, they'd be moving to a plot of land pretty close to the university.. meaning that the college students could take a part time load on top of honing their skills in their mutancy.

The bad news.. was that it'd take forever to complete.

Giselle didn't hesitate to enter the actual store behind the small, daily market, picking up things for the next few days with a contemplative look on her face. “I've thoroughly enjoyed my time studying there.” Because, if she knew him at all.. she'd know that studying was what he did best.

He was taken aback slightly when she hooked her arm through his, urging him to lead her about the grocery store. Something about the motion wasn't professional, more like a doting friend instead of a colleague. And yes, Keiran Sullivan needed many more friends, but making them on base was likely a bad idea. The more distance between them, the better. Not because he was a pompous a** who thought himself better than them, but it'd be better if they weren't close... and he lost control. If things started …leaking, it'd be easier on his team if they weren't as emotionally invested as he'd been with Moira. The Albanian woman crinkled her nose at the current preservatives, and Keiran grinned, unable to help himself despite his reservations. “That's why you're supposed to eat them with sugar.” Again, probably something that her agent would likely smack him for.

“I'm not extremely persnickety about what you choose to buy, Giselle.” Granted... he'd likely set up an account with Organics Around Wales because they'd deliver... and were rather reasonable. 12.50 sterling pounds per week, with fresh, organic fruits and vegetables conveniently brought to the base.

“But we should probably be getting back to the base – dinner hadn't exactly been in the schedule, so I'm a little bit behind.” He admitted, though not at all sorry that they'd done so. The work would hold... it wasn't as though it was going anywhere.

**

The base had been quiet while they were gone; no one had missed either's presence too much. And the ones that had, had left notes taped to Keiran's door – mostly supply requests for downstairs. Keiran placed them carefully at the edge of his desk, intending to go through them later, when there wasn't so much to do... and when it would actually matter. Looking through it immediately wouldn't change the fact that he'd not be able to order the supplies until tomorrow, so it could wait until the morning.

“I suppose, we should split up here... I'll get to cleaning the kitchen.” Much to his dismay. There were far more important things to be doing... especially when his microwavable dinners didn't even require him to go to the kitchen to eat. Carrying the bulk of the bags, the base leader turned on his heel and departed from the Albanian's company, slightly relieved to gaining some quiet. Giselle was very nice... interesting... attractive. But he'd been alone on base (essentially) long enough that having someone else around through him for a loop.

Plus there was the fact that he'd never been all that verbose to begin with, which often gave him the appearance that his head was stuck in the clouds, and everyone else was left far, far behind.

The kitchen was admittedly a disaster, as though a tornado had come through and riddled it of any semblance of order. Heaving a sigh, Keiran collected the dishes about the room, and started rinsing them off before placing them in the oversized dishwasher. Likely, they'd still need to go through two cycles, but at the very least.. the base would have clean dishes and utensils soon enough. Even with the industrial sized dishwasher, the need for two or three loads was apparent, so Keiran organized the remaining flatware and such in the sink, readying them to be the next load when the first was finished.

Next were the floors, which were in a layer of grime he'd not noticed until inspecting the tiles. Like an OCD patient, he spent a copious amount of time meticulously sweeping the filth from the grout, and into the dustpan. Easily, Keiran moved out all the furniture so that he could get the entirety of the floor before filling up a mop bucket and grabbing a scrub brush. Of all the things in the world, he was sure he looked out of place, hunkered down on his hands and knees as he scrubbed the tiles clean, restoring each tile to the vibrant polish they'd had before.

He didn't complain as he set to work, having already done a similar treatment to the floors in his own room... but with as big as the kitchen was... it was going to take all night.

[The Bunit]

Ⓚ ⓘ ⓜ ⓑ ⓔ ⓡ ⓛ ⓨ ⓝ ⓝ

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Location - Bedroom, Warren's OfficexxxxTeam: Karabelas

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She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there – time seemed to pass without notice as her imagination carried her through the stories on the pages. It wasn't until she heard the muted footsteps approaching her that Kimki even bothered to look up, almost sensing that the person was intent upon talking to her.

The sight of the man brought a smile to touch her lips, everything between her and Dom had been great, perfect even. “Hello there.” She said, green eyes bright with her happiness. But as the young woman took notice of the grim line that formed Dominik's mouth, her's fell. “What's wrong?” She asked, unfolding from her ball and standing to brush her lips against his.

Something about this gave her a feeling in the pit of her stomach, that the light display of affection wasn't going to fix the problem. “Dom...” Already her voice was trembling, unsure of just why they were going to break up, but knowing well that it was going to happen.

The usual trek to her bedroom felt somehow longer than usual, the seconds only ambling by, his stride heavy; Dominik stole a moment to adjust the bag on his shoulder, its weight against his back weighing him down more than it rightly should have, continuing on with the stoniest of expressions; eyebrows knitted slightly, lips turned to a thin line against his face.

His breakdown had been one suffered in silence, inward and away from the notice of his peers, but powerful enough to injure him in ways no one would rightly see. The resulting decision, and its resolve, would prove staunch…yet still, the ensuing conversation wasn’t one that he looked forward to. He leafed through the ways to tell her of his intent to leave, turning over every statement in his head, scrounging for something that would be…delicate; soften the blow, so to speak… but he found nothing that, when weighed against the subject, would appease either of them. Things had been going well between them…oddly so, in fact; no hints of any problem that Kimki could see or glean at. Nothing.

Softening the blow would be impossible. And yet, Dominik continued on. Because he couldn’t do it anymore; any of it. He’d long ago broken a pact made with himself, and in lieu of it had suffered in ways that no one would understand. Aren, Kimki, Narcissa—all of them; allowing himself to care about them, about anyone, wasn’t at all conducive to his own well being. He’d lost enough already; the last few weeks had done little but prove that he’d not withstand losing any more. And Mathis’ own worries, adamantly voiced time and again, had weighed him down with yet more guilt; that the Slovenian himself might one day inadvertently bring harm to those he’d so foolishly come to care about.

Leading a team, being in a relationship…having friends at all; it had been a mistake. One he’d dwelled on since leaving San Fransisco, with the sort of dread that could bring even the strongest to their knees. And he’d not do it any longer; wouldn’t lead any of them down his own wayward path. The Slovene was selfish, unfeeling…undeserving.

Yes…in the end, the entirety of his peers simply deserved something better than what he could hope to offer. And he…deserved nothing save a life of solace.

Jesus, the look on her face struck him cold. For a moment, the Slovenian shook himself, adjusting his shoulders in a feeble attempt to hide the graveness permeating from him; that’d she’d realized something was amiss so quickly didn’t do well to paint how adequately he was doing at retaining composure.

”Kimki…” [********] So much for any of the speeches he’d had planned; all he drew now was a stark ******** blank…”I, uhm—Prekleti Kristus-” Obviously flustered, the man ran a hand his hair, leaving the sandy tresses tousled, ”I wanted to…tell you, before. I mean, I didn’t want to just disappear without saying…anything…”

’Nice going, a*****e.’. He was at a total loss on how to continue, and looked it, the corners of his mouth dipping into an even deeper frown, ”I’m sorry.” The apology was sincere. More than she’d ever know…and now he simply stood in front of her, silent, unable to conjure anything; unwilling and unable to recite an explanation for his departure that she would understand.

Her heart, if possible, sank to the pit of her stomach when he uttered her name, absently trailing off from what he'd intended to say. “You're leaving.” It wasn't a question. Tears filled her now troubled eyes, a pout long-overdue forming on her lips. “But why? Things are going great; you got the promotion, we've not been fighting...” What could be so important, that he'd leave her behind? That he'd leave so abruptly. Stay strong. She bade herself, willing to not fall apart until after he left.

“Is it something I did?” The young woman asked hopefully, not quite willing to admit defeat. Slowly, her arms drew up around his neck, and she pressed a ghost of a kiss to his collar. “Said?” She paused, trying to catch her breath in the silent rise of her panic. “Don't leave me.” She whispered, burying her face into his chest, unwilling to let him go.

Dominik’s heart mirrored her own, the man shaking his head with enough resolve to show how wrong she was, ”You didn’t do anything, Kimki. I swear it…” As expected, she came closer, and he found himself wishing that she wouldn’t…form going rigid in her embrace. Trying to steel himself over, to place his thoughts elsewhere, though her lips against the nape of his neck made the act more difficult than he would have expected; he had to stop the impulse to wrap his arms around her, to run his hand along the length of her back…it wouldn’t do any good for them now; it’d only serve to give her the wrong impression. And his decision, in that moment, still hadn’t wavered. His path remained the same; Dominik merely had to remind himself that she was an obstacle. ”I can’t do this anymore, Kimki. You haven’t done anything wrong, but I can’t…”

He wanted to spare her from his sob story; couldn’t let bid the thoughts to pass from his lips, for fear that she might weaken his resolve to leave them…but it was hard; so hard, to have her arms around his neck, her lips against his skin…and to do nothing. Feel nothing.

Quietly, though, the Slovenian settled inside the void within his own chest; looked down at the top of her head with a gaze so withdrawn that one’s blood might run cold to look at it, ”It’s not in me anymore. Being here, with the x-men, leading a team…”

”-Being with you…” He’d not shove her away; couldn’t stand the thought of it…and so they stood like that, stagnant, for a few more moments. It wasn’t the way that he wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t see a way around that anymore. Whatever he did now, however he reacted…the end would be the same, the results still just as disastrous. ”You need to let me go now, Kimki.” Dominik’s tone was soft, lightly candied, but firm enough to show his sincerity in the request. Nothing she did would change the outcome; the sooner she realized that, the better.

Kimberlynn swallowed the first of many sobs to come before it could spill into the air and wrench her of what little composure she clung to. That he couldn't be with her anymore, that it wasn't in him, as though being there, with her arms around him was cause for him to suffer... Her mouth went dry, as though someone had stuffed a bag of cotton balls down her throat. Bravely, she stole a peek up at him, his expression frigid, unfeeling. Everything about him that she couldn't recognize. But even so, it took all of her resolve to pry her hands apart from behind his neck and step back. “Fine.” She mumbled, her eyes falling down to the ground long enough to gather a flash of anger to help conceal the hurt. “Whatever you'd prefer.” She responded coldly, attempting to mask that feeling of a knife twisting in her back.

She took another step back, mustering the courage from nowhere to remain standing. “I don't know where you're going...” He didn't want her to know. God, he didn't want her. After everything... he was just going to abandon everyone... his team, his friends...

Slowly, her eyes closed while she racked her brain on how to word what she felt, what she needed to stay. “I'll let you go...” Or at least, she'd try. She would do whatever it took to eradicate hi from her thoughts... If he could be callous, she'd sure as hell try to reciprocate. ”But if you care for me at all, you won't come back. It'll just make things harder. And you'll break my heart all over again.” Mathis had been right – Dom wasn't any good for her. Now if only she could believe that... if only she could convince herself that she didn't love him. That he didn't love her somewhere deep down.

This would be a hell of a lot easier.

It was then that she heard his comm, summoning the team leaders to Warren's office. Green eyes took in his perfect visage, still as cold as marble. He'd not be attending that either.

“Just go.” Before she lost all of her pride, fell on her knees and begged him to stay. Before her world fell apart. Before she got stupid and decided to try and follow him...

* * *

Stumbling through the base, the elastic girl found her way in Warren's office; she was the first to appear there. Already, her eyes were swollen with the tears that weren't likely to stop until she ran out; he was gone. And he wasn't going to return.

Still a wreck, Kimki searched the blond's eyes. “Warren... he's not coming.” She stated, knowing that the base leader would know who she was talking about. “He just left.” What she'd meant to do, was sneak in and inform him before the others got there that the Briquets would need a new leader. What happened was, she fell to the floor, hugging her knees as the sobs robbed her of her ability to breathe. She rocked back and forth like that, whispering that he'd left her, for now completely forgetting that the leaders were going to have a meeting... and that they'd be soon to arrive, just in time to witness her breaking down.

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[The Bunit]

* * Merely a plot post, using NPCS for A Silver Lining * *

Upon the table what was left of a solitary candle still sputtered, burning down mercilessly but slowly toward the wick. When it at last flickered out, Relky stood from his chair and groped his way about the chamber and into his bed. His letter had been penned, to which he drew a muted sigh. He didn't bother to doff his clothes, the meager warmth they'd offer him necessary to keep him from catching a chill in the biting drafts of the chamber.

It seemed, with each passage he wrote to those aiding in conquering the kings, that it grew colder, foreboding of a war that none may readily win. The debate swelling within his breast had been building for three fortnights – should the Creed fail, all would be lost to the tyranny of their lords. And should they win.... he shuddered, closing his coal hued eyes as the images painted themselves across his conscience. Neither was an ideal scenario; both spelled disaster for the commoners, whether they could see the uprising on the horizon or not.

The church wanted the land, wanted to send their men onto the Holy Lands; but the King had viciously taken a crusade against those in Hubris against their wishes because they refused to absolve him of his adultery. And the war tore across the country in retaliation was still at a stalemate. Each had their wins; each had their losses. That Justice was not reduced to a desolate wasteland with the two different types of war foraging within its borders said a lot of the will of its people. That the king had not yet sent a son to the castle for safekeeping said more.

But the political unrest was building all the same, Relky knew that. What had once been whispers to the wind were now exclaimed to the hills with the utmost passion. The King had no right at all to denounce the Church of Justice; that he was the supreme ruler of the kingdom, and did not have to answer to the voices of the Gods. Relky released another long breath from his lungs – the words of the decree forever etched in his memory. “A king of any sort of sovereignty should nor ever will again, be reduced to that of a puppet for the church's whims. While many a good men have been elected to the higher positions to act as the voice of the Gods, many more could be deemed corrupt, greedy clergy men. All of those within that chamber of life are of common blood – not fit to sit upon the seat of the throne. From this day onward, the King of Justice shall, in all endeavors of the state, be his own ruler as well as for the rest of the kingdom.”

Many, many were against the sentiment, the very grain of the declaration, when for so long Justice had tried to stay within the graces of the church. Some kings had done it out of superstition, believing if the church became angered with the monarchs that they'd be cursed, that the entire country would suffer; other kings had listened to the church's council because of their devotion to the Gods. But none had ever dared defy the church in such a way – to remove all of their power would be the inevitable fall of the kingdom!

Truly, Relky thought, that this would be Justice's undoing...

Perhaps it was best that they ever remove the stain of the Cromwell legacy from Justice's high seat.

But he'd served as chancellor for Edmund Cromwell III for nigh on fourteen years; if only he could commit with such arduous passion to the idea of killing the man. Yes, he'd had his faults – a tempest's
temper not the least of them – but he'd been a fair king. Until now.

All this, over a mere woman. There was a reason they didn't plant much stock in women; they were oft the weakness of men, who lost themselves to a lady fair – Edmund had done the same, and the dichotomy that the choice left his country in, was hardly one to be proud of. Those in his cabinet had been coerced into pledging an oath to support the king's decision to strip the church's leader of his power. And those who could not in their hearts, swear to this allegiance, had been 'removed.' From burning at the stake in hopes of cleansing them of their evil spirits, to hangings to beheadings... it'd not taken the kingdom long to decide to back the king in his decision, else they be next to see the gallows.

The highest warrant out was for that of the church's favored man – the one they intended to crown when all of the Cromwell sons had been removed, was unpaid... for they'd been prudent enough to seek Veritas' protection. Valas Enteri, a devout man, an earl... was the best candidate for the throne.

But Relky only had to guess when the hiding place for the man was revealed to the King. With all his heart, he hoped it wouldn't be. For Justice needed someone new, someone not sired from Edmund Cromwell.. because he had little faith in any of the king's stock – the eldest sons no doubt as ruthless as their father, and likely as skilled in tactics as their father.

No... what they needed now was one who the church would support, one that wouldn't bring a curse to darken the grassy knolls of Justice..... and it was that thought, that hope, Relky drifted to sleep to, praying that Edmund wouldn't learn of his involvement to kill him, or his sons. For if he did, Relky's last breaths would be coming much too soon.

[The Bunit]

Another plot post, npcs with one of my characters.

The chambers to which Haven had locked himself away were dark, curtains drawn over the windows, and there were no candles aflame to aid her eyes from straining in the shadows. “Mi'lord?” She had every need to apologize to him, to promise him she'd strive to be what he expected of his queen, but she'd need time to grow, time to adjust to those dogmas. And after he'd crushed his lips to her own, the princess had thought of little else through the course of the day – everything brought her back to him.

He'd made hardly a sound when he rose from his chair near the hearth – the embers long since they'd last given any heat, the coals beneath the kindles gray and ashen, already put to use. The carpeted floor did well to mute his stumbling, so well that she'd not heard any alarm that he was approaching her. His hand fell to her shoulder, ever gentle as he'd always been, but it still garnered a shocked inhale, her resin colored eyes widening as she turned to face her fiance. “Your Majesty I-” Lorelei began, frantic with the apologies she needed to give him at the tip of her tongue.

A long index finger pressed against her lips, bidding her to hush, else she kill the moment. “You're so breathtaking.” Haven uttered, ale still stale on his breath. Obviously, he'd spent the day indulging in drinking his share of tankards, and had yet to fully recover. “My love, your very appearance pains me to look at, to know that one day you'll be mine, and that you will never submit.” His hand held a delicate curl, satin against his fingers. “A mare so beautiful... but never to be tamed.”

Lorelei bit down on her trembling lip, fearful to step back and awaken his rage. “You flatter me, far beyond what I deserve.” She whispered, a soft aria accompanying the words into the air. “But I've come to give the answer you have asked of me.” Whether she was pleased with the situation or not, Lorelei would do as she was told, and the god had bade the pair to be married. “I will be your wife, in every way, I will uphold the promises of our marital vows, if only you give me time.”

“You ask a lot of me, of a woman who was never prepared to even enter the courts, and entertain men at a gala. As your queen, it is expected that I provide heirs, but heirs from my womb come at a cost, mi'lord. They'll be half siren, and I'll flourish into the full capacity of a temptress upon the deed of consummation.”

There wasn't any other way – Veritas had damned not only her, but the kingdom of Fortitude as well. For with her as the queen, the court would ever be in turmoil, ever face the songs her voice provided. And no man she'd spoken to on the matter had given her any notion of just how dangerous it was. Rather, they said they'd work through it, that she fretted overly much.

Haven sighed, bringing a hand to cup her cheek as he peered down at her, eyes well adjusted to the darkness where hers hadn't. “Lorelei, my love... you are already all I could want in a companion. I care not to wait to make you mine in full, if it's time you need... it is time you shall get. But there are many here who have a wandering eye where you are concerned. Tell me, that you'll marry me now, so that they cannot touch you, and usurp what rightfully has been pledged to me.” His lips brushed the place just below her ear, trailed down her jaw line with small kisses that teased her, caused her head to lull back in want.

“I'd walk through Hell on Sunday, if it'd keep you close to me.” He promised, making her wonder just how long he'd been caught in her web. “You haunt my mind, my flesh, and worse still, my heart.”

“Haven,” The siren whispered, senses alive with all that he promised her, with every kiss. “We can't do this now. Not until you find a spell, to stop the chaos I will cause.”

But it was much too late, much, much too late. If he couldn't take her as a whole, he'd at least have her legally bound. “Come to the chapel with me, come marry me this night, and we'll worry about your siren on the morrow.”

It was a double edged sword, her sin, and she trembled as she found herself submitting to his request, absurd as it was, her feet falling into the same pace as he kept. “It'll make me happy, make me trust that no one else will take you from me.” He promised, still obviously drunk. But at 17, with so many emotions catapulting through her, Lorelei believed every word. Why would she not, when he'd been nothing but kind, had aided her whenever she had the need?


He had little reason to peel his attentions away from his intense, pleading prayer when the heavy iron-hinged doors to the sacellum swung open enough to allow another's entrance, along with the sweeping chill that elicited an involuntary shiver. It was but a small reaction to the interruption in his concentration, that it hardly merited anything more than a simple, passing thought. Lest the prowler of the abbey was employed by his wife, adhering to a request to locate him, the king would remain still.

The shuffling footsteps passed the pew where he remained, and as they did so, stirred the air – a sweet scent that permeated his nostrils – led him to consider Haven and his current predicament, betrothed t the likes of an illegitimate princess from the sinful realms. Undignified, he snorted in contempt. The wench! How she had managed to enchant his son – a mage of Fortitude's highest caliber, how she'd twisted his conscience into believing himself to be in love with the git... Reginald was not certain. But he knew without a trace of doubt that she'd be the downfall of his great kingdom if left unleashed.

A harlot had no place entertaining any circle of their courts outside of being there for hire to warm a guest's bed... much less did the siren deserve to be seated at the right of a king! To place her in any position of high standing soured on his stomach like milk left too long in the sun.

Twas this very predicament that had led the angelic man to the sanctuary so late in the night. In order to keep his children safe, they were to adhere to the decrees made by their host, a god of his own plane. But surely this fiasco with the Gavini lass was a mistake. If not, then there must be a reason for all of the upset... and the one that would come if this betrothal ever saw itself to marital vows. Certainly, the great Veritas had not arbitrarily chosen a mate for his son. No god could be so cruel as to ruin his standing with his people, and take it so lightly.

Whispers tittered through the chapel, but he found himself unbridled by the secretive chatter. Likely the sweet scent he'd caught had been that of a woman, her motives for coming this late hour so as to discretely repent from her sins. Presently, the king's orisons to the gods ranked far higher than any desire to appease the slight curiosity in the woman's identity. It was not until a haunting voice, nay, an enchanting melody ebbed so freely throughout the church, the soft inflections teasing his senses, that Reginald's eyelids lifted, only enough to glance in the general direction of the noise.

She was here.

Peering through darkness, the flickering candlelight illuminating only select parts of the abbey, the man caught sight of what he could rightly consider his enemy, her hands were entwined with his eldest son's, her head affectionately leaning onto the square part of his shoulder, as though she had right to do so.

No.

His jaw clenched in an immediate ire; surely Haven wouldn't be... They couldn't possibly hope to... But what other reason would the pair have to be standing in front of a priest? Before he could form any other idea, Haven's speech confirmed his fears; his son had brazenly announced that he'd accept the siren Lorelei Gavini as his wife, his future queen, his partner for as long as they both lived. “For all eternity.” He reiterated, his eyes trained on the temptress at his side.

With no hesitation, not at all listening for the meek woman's echo of the sentiments just previously stated, the king of Fortitude jumped from his kneeling position, strode to the front of the abbey, his footsteps long and sure as his fury that Have would be so bold to defy the wishes of his sire. But it was much too late. The magical binding that was customary with Fortitude's rituals encompassed the newly wed couple, delicate golden threads circling them – the light the sealing emitted bright enough to banish any shadows that lurked within the church's corners for a few moments before it faded into a soft glow and then gradually into nothing.

The ephemeral light dimmed as the heir stepped away from his wife, the expression that he donned far more than smug when he faced his father. “She's mine.” He declared rebelliously, fingertips gently snaking about Lorelei's wrist in a mix of staunch affection and possession. “Not you, nor mother, nor any other man who has looked upon Lorelei as a treasure to be coveted shall be able to rip her from me now.” She was his to love. His to cherish. His to give seed to. Nd not even his cumbersome family could deprive him of that small note of bliss.

“My boy.” The king trailed off, shaking his head in dismay. How could Haven be so selfish to ruin his kingdom with such enthusiasm? Had he not thought of the effects such a marriage would have on the general public opinion? Of how it might affect the courts?

“My son. He repeated, words failing to leave his tongue. What was there that could be said, that hadn't been expressed already? Haven was a failure. A disgrace to the Greene family name. And marrying a whore only reiterated that fact. Not only had he failed many times over in tests of courage... he'd always been too distant, deemed untrustworthy by his mother... and their obvious personality conflicts had not made an easy passage of their relationship.

His eyes fell to Lorelei, his now daughter-in-law. His legal, but begrudging kin. “You.” Reginald accused, his vocal chords vibrating gruffly, eyes narrowing to a glower. “You bewitched him!” Without a thought, his hands reached to seize her – the plan scarcely made beyond strangling the last of her melodies when Haven's magic pushed him away too abruptly.

“Father, my wife has seen enough of the back of a man's hand without your aid. She is not, nor ever will be yours to punish.” Haven said listlessly, the edges of his own anger bridling his words. Amethyst eyes blazed with his sincerity of the declaration.

The sudden use of magic pulled back the heir from any lasting effects of his ale, anger replacing the alcohol's bubbling in his veins. “You'll not lay a hand on her.” From this point on, Lorelei Gavini-Greene was untouchable. His.

Furiously, Reginald's mouth opened, shut and opened again akin to a door hung on well oiled hinges as he struggled to make a retort, but quickly found that there was none to be made. Haven Greene lacked naught for fortitude when it came to standing up to protect what he deemed worthy. But the judgment that the heir oft gave was usually found to be less than par. He had never been what the king had expected, or even wanted, and that much was only proven by this display. James would have no doubt made a better heir.

”You'll pay dearly for this.” The king promised in a scolding tone, his beady eyes fulgent with his vexation. “Should you consider the options we have for cumbersome kin...” They could always lock her away – far from the public eye, stating easily that the holy fire (Ergotism) had touched upon her sanity, deem her an unfit queen, and subsequently a burdensome wife. No one would fault him for petitioning for a divorce, and finding a more acceptable queen.

Lorelei trembled at the thought, her knees threatened to buckle beneath her, force her to cow before the two men deciding on her fate as though she were lame, and unable to fathom the severity of their conversation. She needn't hear Reginald's suggestions to know what they were, the scenarios he'd devise would definitely be far more prudent for the kingdom – no doubt the best option for a hard-pressed king who'd had a wife of insufficient quality dumped into his lap. To send her to a convent or a manor considerably far away from the influential cities of Fortitude... it was not at all unlike her own sire's plan to quietly dispose of her. Why it mattered now, just why the trepidations of fear clenched at her insides with its icy hands and chilled the marrow of her bones, the siren couldn't rightly place. It had always been this way. Always, she'd expected to be tucked away.

Perhaps her panic was more founded in that she'd be hidden in a place completely foreign to her, with now comforts of her own culture. As she opened her mouth to speak, bidding her tongue to wag in her soft protests, Haven's voice cut through the hair, the tone much more brusque and rigid than any one time she could remember.

“I am more than aware of your opinions regarding Lorelei,” He started, fingers wrapping just a little more snugly about her wrist. “However, not only is she here, listening to your insufferable chiding, she's often too gentle to allow herself some sort of pride.” She was of a sweet nature – enough to hold her tongue. ”I do not share her mannerisms in that respect.” The siren stepped just a little bit closer to her husband, her initial anxiety diminishing as he bravely confronted his sire. “Veritas set to this match, and as we promised upon the request to stay here, I honored the commitment. Granted, I have done so much more joyously than most.” But being in love with one's wife was hardly a crime. Adoring her, when he had just made a contract to be faithful to her should have been encouraged.

And how could he not, when he'd always expected his wife would be promised to him, rather than through a courting relationship? What maiden would other wise be able to see beyond the aged shell of his body, and want to marry him? Lorelei had proclaimed time and again that she was the beast, and not he. That he was kinder than the likes of her deserved. Never once had she noisily complained that he appeared to be so ancient, never once had she even commented negatively of him.

In his eyes, she was without flaw. To even be able to call her his own was a measure of pride, and his father would likely never understand, but the heir felt it necessary to say anyway. “Look beyond what she is, and see the gentler spirit that she harnesses. My wife has the finesse of a swan and a heart comprised of the most precious of metals.” Truly, the good traits he saw in the young woman were innumerable.

But before any party could make a response, before either could copulate any sort of thought to even begin to translate it into words, Navarum the priest who had remained soundless through the entire quarrel, gasped in correlation to a swish of a sword. His knees hit the ground before the wielder of the blade withdrew the weapon from his innards. Quickly, and without any more words, the tattooed man's eyes glazed over with death, and his body fell forward into a hapless pile on the floor.

The assassin made a gesture of sympathy to the man, before turning to others, his expression hardening in an instant. ”That I had to consider a man of the church collateral damage contests to how desperately committed I am to this cause.” He declared, displeased that Navarum had been watching closely enough to have seen his identity.

No doubt he would have reported it, and Henreich needed no tales sullying his name before he usurped the throne.

The king took flight, his wings lifting him to heights that he'd be safe from any ground affront. “The plane has been breached!” The assassins that they'd traveled so far to get away from had crossed the realms' gates. Reginald reached behind his head for his sword, but found the scabbard to be empty; no doubt he'd left in in his chambers with Elizabeth, believing that no attacks would take place in an abbey. No one would dare sully the sacred ground.

The soft hum of a magical barrier created a dome over Haven and Lorelei – the quick handiwork of the heir. However reflexive it'd been, the effort went without a lasting reward, for the shield sputtered, granting the assassin entry, and Haven's hand immediately fell to the sheath at his side. Unfortunately, he could not rely on spell casting this time.

“Lorelei, my love.” He started breathlessly, amethyst eyes rounding on the siren. “Run and don't look back.” Though the lines of his face did not lucidly display his fretting – easily he knew that he'd be bested quickly by this intruder; his tone was the only true indication. “Follow my father out, alert everyone that our walls have been compromised.” He pushed her with enough force to insist that the quavering girl abandon the sanctuary.

She shook her head, glossy lips quivering with her answer. “Haven, I-I cannot.” To flee whilst her husband attempt to slay his assassin was the truest form of cowardice. Her legs felt as though they'd been sculpted of jelly, making it increasingly difficult to even stand, and though her brain told her it was most prudent to do as the heir had ordered, her limbs didn't seem of mind to cooperate.

But he ushered her once more as he narrowly dodge Henreich's blade, nearly shrieking for her to leave. “Go!” It'd be worse if she remained – the fight would be much shorter lived in his valiant efforts to protect her. And they'd both perish.

The princess retreated, fierly locks flying behind her in her haste. If he could hold on just long enough, for someone to rush to his aid... Silver tears spilled out of her amber orbs, staining her face and blurring her vision enough that she lost her footing and stumbled. ~Hold on. Please.~ She whispered to him, only hoping there would be enough time. Her long skirts tripped her as she flew along the trees that bordered the forest, and her ankle twisted nastily enough that she couldn't hope to stand. Instantly, a bruise swelled and discolored the injury, and the siren sucked in a lungful of air in a searing pain.

Desperate to find her husband help in this late hour, Lorelei called out to all those she'd communicated with since her arrival. ~They've found us. The abbey...~ The statement was all she could manage to postulate, or attempt to wrap her head around. Even in this realm, no one was safe.

By all the clenching, Reginald's teeth should have been ground flat. Airborne, the king of Fortitude was forced to bear witness to his son defending his right to live. It was wrong, un-thought of that these monsters would find the God's plane. Unheard of that his son's Craft would fail.

The swordplay betwixt the two resembled more of a dance than a struggle – though neither side came without effort. Beads of sweat dotted Haven's forehead; too long had it been since he practiced with his lance, and it left him in want of a towel to dab the clamminess from his flesh. Metal clanged against metal, grinding as the blades crossed, and both breathed raggedly for the duration of the fight.

Haven nicked the man's hand, stepping forward with his parry, charging. He didn't have any sort of want to die this night, but as the fencing grew in length, what was meant to be an hour of exuberance and celebration of marriage transformed to one of desperation, and he acknowledged that without some miracle, he'd be defeated. He, simply put, could not hope to get a leg up against the assassin, couldn't hope realistically, to outlast the man's endurance.

And, when his sword missed blocking the blade of his assailant, the heir grabbed at the protuberance in his gut, the silver already soiled with an easy flow of his blood. It was over.

Without a word, Henriech allowed a smirk to touch his lips – his duty here nearly complete. He looked to the arched ceilings, a mirthless chortle escaping his lips. “I may not have brought with me any arrows,” He started, feet carrying him over to the wall of candles alight with many a prayer. “But there is more than one way, I've found... to bring a king to his knees. ”

Hastily, he dumped the flames onto the wooden benches, which were quick to catch fire and crowd the church's air with a billowing smog. Leaving the two Greenes for dead, he sauntered out of the church, putting a wooden barrier against the entry, and started scanning for a place to lay in wait. John Greene was next in line, and he'd not fail in his task to purge the living of any Greenes that could lay claim to the throne.

Haven's breath came in an uneven rhythm, sputtering as the smoke filled his lungs, setting them to burn from the inside out. He heard his siren's voice fill the crevices of his head, bidding him to hold on, but it was a fruitless hope that she chose to believe in. The dying heir grimaced, drawing in another breath. There was still much to be discussed, even if his time was running short. ~My love, my family is to care for you, make you comfortable.~ Whether or not it would happen was entirely another story. But if they were just, they'd do as the customs bade.

Alarmed, (not to mention unduly surprised that the mage had held out for so long), Reginald landed softly beside him, to see if there was anything that could be done to save the diminishing man. The wounds were mortal, too much of his blood had already been lost.

“Father.” He said weakly, his hands at the sight of his injuries. “Lorelei would go to Sam --” The next in line for our throne. “She's to be queen by laws of inheritance.” While Haven could not guarantee that his father would abide by the customs, it needed to be voiced. She needed to be cared for as their kin.

Reginald's mouth tightened into a firm line, wrinkles on either side doing well to indicate his displeasure. No doubt his son would be so stubborn to remember the customs of their country as he lay dying – and have the nerve to remind his father of the duty to care for their women. Legally, the siren whore was bound to the Greene's. There was naught to be said between them, always they'd been in discord, and it seemed that it would end with little changed.

The king stood, sucking a burning breath before wheezing, his hand coming up immediately to shield his mouth. Using but his memory of the layout of the sanctuary, he made his way to the door, not bothering to try and drag the soon-to-be dead heir along. The flames would cremate him.

They were locked; Reginald's fist slammed against the door in hopes of breaking through the barrier, but to no avail. Panic set in, eyes teared up with the ever rising temperature. His hands were bloody as they flailed against the oak as he cursed to himself – he should have expected this.

For once, he hoped haven's beloved whore would prove to be of use – that she'd bring back aid to open the twin doors before he suffocated or perished in the flames. He laid down, breathing in what unpolluted air he could, but soon passed out against the wood, praying the last of this abbey's prayer as unconsciousness clouded his thoughts.

If he survived this because of her... Lorelei would...

[The Bunit]

Part of a 1x1




▹xxx◄ ◄ ◄ It's a lot like F I R E❜ taking that FIRST step onto the street
xxxxxxxxThe w h o l e night before you spreading out like ◊ a techno colored dream ◊
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx► ► So take this city
xxxxxxx) xxinto your arms and hold it like a kissxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Don't it feel like flying darling, what could be better than this?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx↻ ||Turn up the bright lights,light up the world tonight
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxShine like the stars shine above and sail away
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTurn up the bright lights


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◊ L o c a t i o n : Stark Tower

New York so far was a whirl, and she'd not yet been in the city for twenty-four hours. It was a place that girls dreamed of shopping, of having a Manhattan apartment not dissimilar to the ones they saw in Sex and The City... people sang about it, wrote plays... It was the center setting of a lot of movies and books. And while she'd been exposed to all of them, none of it could have prepared her for the real deal. "I'm normally adaptable." Quinn assured him quietly, grateful he'd not caught the starstruck glimmer to her eye, or just however so slightly her lips had started to pull into an inviting smile. 

The last thing she needed was for Tony Stark to think she had a crush on him, when he was giving her a promotion. Of the many things that could be used to describe her, a sleeze who slept her way to the top was not one of them.  

She'd inquired about why he'd chosen her for the promotion, but he breezed through it with enough charm that Quinn didn't think to question it further. A part of her believed that Abe must have left some impression of her on the man, but most of her figured that while the tabloids loved to paint him a skirt chasing, irresponsible alcoholic... he had to keep in check when he was dealing with business.  Surely, he wouldn't just promote someone random for something in his company - especially if it was he who was doing the promoting.  Normally, if the CEO oversaw the decision it meant that it was important for the company.  And because  it was the famous Tony Stark who had asked her, Quinn would be an idiot to refuse.  

After all, moving up in R&D was a goal she'd hoped to reach in the next ten years. 

"Alright." The blond said, tucking back one of the cascading tresses from her face. Her freckles seemed to dance as she smiled back at him, not knowing putting it off meant he'd never discuss the specifics with her. 

That he was so confident of her abilities already caused Quinn to be a bit sheepish. "I'll do my best, Mr. Stark." She nodded, returning his humor with a milder form of her own. It'd be a mistake to come off as pompous when he'd served her a compliment of such a high degree, but the scientist knew she probably was more intelligent  than most on his board of executive directors.   Promising to keep his opinions to herself, she grinned and he seemed to like that, telling her that she was doing great and that all she needed to do was continue to laugh at all his jokes. 

A small snigger followed, and she covered her mouth to hide the widening of her smile, not wanting to appear too flirtatious. "I don't think that'll be too hard of a request, so long as you always have a sense of humor."  Now a few of the people she'd worked for before... the work had been rewarding, but everyone in the subsidiary company was all work and no play. Even the stupidest thing might make her laugh at this point; she'd almost forgotten how. Though, she'd do her best to hold back most of it - not at all wanting to come off as a ninny. No doubt Abe had mentioned her work ethic and around the clock hours when he'd brought her up, appearing just the opposite of what he said would do her reputation little good.  

As their conversation went on, he'd joked about her moving in with him, and she unintentionally voiced her unhappiness with her sleeping arrangements. He seemed to agree with her that the floor might have been the better option and she nodded. "Were it not for the lineoleum, I think it probably would be." He mentioned that she should probably look for a new apartment, and she shook her head, stating humbly that she couldn't expect much given her field of choice. "I did forget that." She murmured, still not used to the idea of being promoted so early on in her career.  "I assure you, even with little sleep my work is very clinical, with the most minute  details recorded in my findings." Even with an uncomfortable cot, Quinn would always give her best. 

He offered her a quick ride where they could discuss her promotion at length, and she didn't take long to decide. Given his hurry, she figured he was probably trying to squeeze her into his busy schedule, and this was the most convenient time he had available. 

The conversation in the limo consisted of some small talk - Tony mentioned that from the air, New York City looked magnificent, and she mumbled something about seeing it one day because there had been an overcast when her plane was descending. "Oh yes, I won't be grounded in this city forever. I need to go and see my family at some point." She said with a small smile, afraid of revealing too much. But that time wouldn't be around for quite some time. Vacations came once a year. 

Her cheeks tinged with a bit of red when he said he wouldn't mind her taking her vacations at work - already sure that Abe had revealed she didn't give up on finding solutions to problems, even when she wasn't on the clock anymore. Of all the things for him to share... She might kick the man in the shins next time she saw him. 

Sometimes, Quinn was a bit too honest for her own good, so when she mentioned getting lost in such a big city, Tony countered with getting her a GPS. While the young woman tried to protest,  he claimed it to be a work related expense. When she said he was too kind, he murmured a reply that she didn't quite catch. Not sure if she was meant to hear it at all, she tilted her head and searched his expression. "Pardon?" 

"Just under a day." Quinn responded when he asked how long she'd been here. She'd worked on her other project up until the yesterday, and hadn't wanted to leave it without conclusive results.. While they had been in four days ago, she'd spent the last few days packing what she decided was absolutely necessary and typed up the study and a paper explaining the data. Considering shed just emailed the final copy to Abe before she'd boarded the plane, she had been more than just surprised that he'd read it and deemed it fit enough to send on to Tony. 

But that was why she was getting the promotion.   

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ [ t i m e s k i p ] ▃ ▃ ▃

Tony waved off the computer, assuring her that Jarvis might have needed a few updates - particularly in the manners department.  She smiled, dazzling green eyes full of amusement at the banter between a man and his talking computer. He seemed to be arguing over the semantics of just how often Tony strode in with one or more women, and a part of her had to wonder if Jarvis was the tabloid's source for anything regarding the billionaire.  Quinn unsuccessfully held back a laugh when Jarvis told him to lie to himself internally. "Perhaps." She said in agreement when Tony claimed that Jarvis might have been a victim of a virus. "You might want to do a scan, just to be sure." For all that it was worth, the blond had tried to make it sound as though she believed Tony, but the small hint of teasing in her tone would prove otherwise. 

As he announced for the first time what her promotion was, the wine she'd been sipping on came out in a spray across her lips. She nearly choked and her eyes watered from trying to hold in the coughs that would have otherwise come after she'd let some of her drink go down the wrong pipe. He poured her another glass and told her to have her fill, and Quinn nodded silently as she tried to catch her breath. Between the shock and his dramatic pause, she didn't trust herself to speak just yet. 

Jarvis assured her that the pause had been intentional, and that there had been a double entendre that he'd meant for her to catch. Perhaps a bit naive, and wholly too stubborn to believe that Tony was being reckless with promoting her just so that he might be able to enjoy her company, Quinn voiced her own doubts about what the computer was trying to say. She gave off a nervous laugh when it compared Tony to an obese child in a room full of sweets, and she gladly accepted the refill in her glass. 

Taking just a sip to wet her suddenly dry mouth, she nodded once in response to ignoring Jarvis for now. She was certainly not one of the women he was prone to bringing home for an evening. "Noted." The scientist said, still clinging to her original beliefs. 

"You are more prone to your impulses than you are self-control, sir." The computer voiced before continuing. "Would you like the data to prove it?" 

As the job finally sank in, Quinn's mind fenced against the threat of panic - listing the reasons why she wasn't qualified for the position. "Time consuming is fine. Pay and benefits being increased is fine." But speaking to the public, going before the board to discuss budgets for the media, and overseeing that there is an adherence to company policies between positions.. the integrated marketing... "But people who are suited to that field have studied communications or marketing. I know virtually nothing about either." Plus, the big thing... again was speaking to a camera, or to a crowd of people. Pointing to her chest she shook her head, her hair flying about her face. "Stage fright. I have no charisma when speaking to a bunch of people I don't know. Hell, I barely have it with people I do know. And the whole imagining people in the audience to be naked doesn't work..." She sighed then, truly believing this was a huge mistake. "There's more than one reason I belong in a basement, holed up with a microscope." 

Just as fast as she could give excuses, Tony seemed to feel they were easily resolved - even going as far as stating that if her clothes weren't suitable for certain events, she would be provided with a company card. Considering most of her clothes were still in the mail, and public relations would require more than her preferred jeans and a tank top... She was sure that a new wardrobe would be in order. "I brought scrubs to work in." Quinn clarified for him, to emphasize how ill-prepared she would be  to face the public. 

 Had he not mentioned a bonus and a new lease on an apartment, she wouldn't have stopped creating a very detailed list on why he should reconsider offering someone else the position.  But, a bed sounded really nice. She paused and considered how much better her outlook on life would be if she didn't have to fold up her sleeping space in the morning to make a cup of coffee. 

He sat there waiting for a reply and Quinn quickly computed ways she might be able to make things work. PR lived a more glamorous life than anyone in R&D would; she'd be expected to attend events that no scientist had business going to. Glancing at the bottle of wine on the counter, she almost poured herself another glass. But she'd already had more than enough to make her tipsy. And that made it all the easier for her black and white to have a lot of gray where he might convince her she could do this.

It was tempting, but she was sure she'd be fired in a month. Marketing was supposed to be common sense, but there were always tricks and clever ways to make things better... and she knew none of them. "Mr. Stark, you'l have deemed me incompetent in this field within a month's time.  For a company as large as yours, you need someone with experience, not a scientist. Without a contract assuring that despite my failings, I'll remain employed with pay, I couldn't even consider. Plus there are only a handful of scientists willing to take a look at a cleaner source of energy through gamma rays. I'd need scheduled time in the labs on top of directing PR, so I could be working on a project that might save our limited resources." And without access to the labs, there would be no deal. " An apartment with a paid lease that actually didn't resemble a closet would be nice, but really consider what you're asking me to do." He was asking a woman who'd been bred for testing and experiments to surface to crowds and manage the media, the communications between departments... 

Her head began to spin. He said it wasn't a difficult job, but she wasn't so sure of how much she believed that.  

Jarvis interrupted before she could go any further, stating that Miss Potts was calling. Tony took the phone call and said that she'd be meeting Pepper soon. The computer corrected the CEO then, his tone falling into the almost gleeful tinges again. "She was parking when she called." Apparently, this was really happening. 

Shortly thereafter, there was a knock on the door - brief, concise and with purpose. No one had to answer it because the woman let herself in. She was tall, slender with strawberry blond hair and freckles that peppered her face. Quinn waved meekly at the woman who was the driving force of their boss. 

Jarvis was first to speak, seeming cheerful as he greeted the woman. "It's nice of you to drop in. Mister Stark here was just promoting Miss H. Quinn Carmichael to director of public relations." Not that she needed to be filled in, but the computer gave the update anyway.  And she looked no less amused after than she had before. 

She glanced in the direction of the girl who should have been doing her orientation instead of drinking with the CEO of Stark Industries, and didn't need more than a scant second to understand why Tony was trying to pull her from R&D. Even still, the only word that could come to her mind was, "Unbelievable." Her eyes were only for Tony then, but she did give a brief smile to the blond before scowling at the impulsive genius. "We need to talk." She said coolly, somewhat grateful that he'd not yet interrupted her, blabbering about so that she wouldn't be able to finish her sentences. 

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