Welcome to Gaia! ::

Jaci wandered down to the river edge like she did every morning. The permakit was still scouting the best times and places to fish in the wide Nile. So far she had learned to stay away from the water at night, which was when the crocodiles were most active and her eyesight wasn’t at it’s best. All Jaci really knew was that they lazed during the hottest parts of the day, and that when the sun was at it’s highest was the time when it was as safe as it would ever be to go fishing.

The neon perma slipped into the swollen waters of the Nile. She planned on sticking to the shallows today. Visibility wasn’t as bad as one might think but she’d been in clearer waters. Jaci heaved an internal sigh, missing the crystal waters of her old river home. That place had been so lonely, which was why she left. Here she did have company, but still not the kind she was after.

As a permakit Jaci would never be able to mate. She was still capable of feelings of love for another and possessiveness, but with her body stuck in the stage of permanent kithood her partner would be more like a best friend. What Jaci had really hoped to discover was another permakit. She would have been the first to tell you she dearly loved Horus and the rest of the Kemet tribe, that they were all so understanding of her and treated her well enough. But it just wasn’t the same as having a friend who actually knew what you were going through, what it was like to have your mind mature even as your body stayed the same. Nice as all the adults were, none of them could relate to her well enough to be a best friend.

Jaci was flung from her musings by the sighting of a carp. Those stinkers had a lot of little bones in them, but they sure were tasty! Jaci had always called herself an otter-kit, but in the past few weeks her style had taken on a likeness similar to the crocodiles that shared the river. She floated, slowly drifting closer, waiting. There! Right as the carp moved to swim past her she snapped her head to the side and grabbed the fish with her needle teeth.

Carp were big, and Jaci had a small body. She had to hang on until the thing quit thrashing, the speedily made her way to the surface. She needed air, and the sound of commotion in the water could attract other predators. It was a whole other fight to get the fish on land so she could eat. The thing continued to thrash, and only the strong muscles of her neck kept Jaci from being flopped about like a rag doll. When she finally hit land most of the fight had gone out of the fish, and out of her. Jaci couldn’t remember being so tired.

Something else noticed. A croc, still young and not experienced in the ways of hunting, sensed an easy meal. The furred creature might still have enough fight to cause an injury, but that fish was quite dead and would be so easy to take.

Jaci heard splashing from the river and looked over to see a crocodile coming her way. It was still young so it was only twice her size, but that was still more than she could deal with at the moment. The weary perma grabbed the fish and tried to drag it away, but her prey was too big and she was to slow. The croc was easily keep pace, not even bothering to hurry. Jaci’s legs were starting to tremble. She knew she should just let the fish go and run now, hoping the croc would go for easy prey and let her escape.

Out of nowhere a black and white blur slammed into the croc. The reptile hissed and shook it’s head in an attempt to dislodge it’s attacker. The black and white creature made a fierce noise and there was the sound of ripping meat. The croc roar and thrashed. Something wet spattered on Jaci’s face, and the metallic stench of blood filled her nose. She would only watch in shock as the croc continued it’s violent thrashing. Finally it seemed to freeze, shudder, than lay limp on the ground. The black and white creature stood on top of the body, victorious, then leapt down in front of Jaci.

It was a kit, with a bushy tail to indicate he was male. He was split evenly down the middle, jet black fur on the left and snowy white on the right. The white fur was stained red in several places and the black fur seemed to gleam. His eyes were the most unusual Jaci had seen in a fox. The right eye was a gorgeous aquamarine, like the ocean on a perfect day. The left was black as pitch, with only a slight gleam to give away that it was more than a bottomless pit.

For an endless moment the kits stood there, mismatched eyes boring into gold. Neither moved. The black and white kit finally blinked and moved, prancing in place. “Ya goin’ ta stan’ there all day, or are ya gonna get off yer rump an’ move afore another of those things comes ta callin’?” When Jaci didn’t move the kit snorted and walked over to her. He forcefully nudged her with his nose, then grabbed the carp and started the move away from the river.

Jaci followed the kit automatically, uncharacteristically silent. Her mind was still reeling from what she’d seen. Yea, that croc had been a baby of it’s kind, but it was still twice as big as her or the black and white kit. But he had fought it, and won! Not just beat it either, he had killed it. Jaci wondered if she should be running away rather than following him.

Suddenly the kit stopped, dropping the fish on the ground. Startled, Jaci almost ran into him. They were at an oasis? When did that happen? The kit didn’t say anything, just ran forward to dive into the fresh water. Jaci stared at the clear pool. She could feel the blood that had dried on her face and the smell was still fresh. She trotted over to the shore but simply dunked her head in the water rather than dive as the kit had done. From the shadows in the water she could barely see the black and white shape swimming around.

She lifted her face from the water, shaking it to remove excess liquid. Her fish lay close by on the grass. If she didn’t eat it soon flies would do the job for her, or the flesh would make her ill. Only knowing that her body needed the food prompted Jaci to eat. She could only finish a quarter of it before she crawled into the shade of a bush at the water’s edge and fell asleep.

It was dark when Jaci woke up. She sat up, blinking her large eyes to banish the sleep and adjust them to the darkness. The air smelled like heat, sand, and fox. “Awake now?” Jaci jumped. The black and white kit seemed to almost materialize out of the darkness. Clean now, his white fur seemed to glow in the light from the moon. His demeanor had changed with a relaxed position and gentler expression.

“Sorry to not introduce myself earlier, but I don’t think you would have remember. I’m Raz, a permakit just like you.” That got Jaci’s attention. “How-,” she started to ask. Raz chuckled. “I was watching you. No kit could have taken down that fish without lots of practice. By the time you get all that practice you’ve usually grown up. Since you’re still little I made the assumption you were like me.”

Jaci stared at Raz. What was up with this male? First he has giving off killer vibes so much that it scared her, now he was all happy and acting like everything was dandy. Now that she was paying attention she noticed Raz wasn’t just pure black and white. He had patterns to his fur that looked like wings. The black side had a wing similar to a Daeva, black bone and red webbing. The white side’s wing looked more like a Phims, blue as the sky.

Raz appeared content with waiting for Jaci to recover her wits. This made her angry for some reason. “You assume a lot,” she snapped, standing up. She stalked over to the edge of the water, noting her fish was now gone. She knew it wouldn’t have been good anymore, but it only made her angrier. “What did you do with my fish?”

“I buried it,” came the calm response. To contrast Jaci, Raz was completely still. He knew he could be an unsettling presence at times. To be honest he wasn’t all that fond of diving under water, but he had done so because he knew the neon female would have just stayed in a frozen state had he remained. He’d come back to shore to find the fish somewhat eaten and the female sleeping. He’d taken his fill of the fish then buried the remains to give the bushes and trees fuel for growth. The rest of the night he simply watched the neon female, guarding against any scavengers who would bother them. “So are you saying I am wrong, that you aren’t a permakit?”

Jaci stared down at the water, still silently fuming. “Yea, I’m a perma. What’s it to you?”

“Everything.”

Jaci stared at Raz, slightly creeped out and unsure of what he meant. “Don’t I get to know your name,” Raz asked. Jaci’s mistake was looking up from the water and catching Raz’s eyes. There was something compelling about them, some important message in their depths that she felt she should know but the answer was just out of her grasp. “I’m Jaci,” she replied. Suddenly she couldn’t stand it anymore, she had to get away from this permakit. Jaci turned and dove into the water.

It was a fairly large oasis, capable of support her tribe and more. Jaci was sure there were fish and crocs in the water, but she came across none. She stayed under the water for as long as she could, and swam as fast as she could. Day or night, her coat should have made her impossible to see., and Jaci could cover more distance swimming than a lot of adults could run. That was why when she reached the end of the water and climbed to shore she felt her heart leap into her throat.

Raz was sitting there, looking as perfectly relaxed as if he had been there for awhile. She was sure this wasn’t the same place, since there were no bushes on this side of the oasis. “You can’t run away from me, Jaci,” Raz said, voice quiet and almost sad. His blue eye looked apologetic. “He won’t let you. You’re his now.”

“The hell I am,” Jaci snarled. She didn’t know who, or what, Raz was talking about, but she refused to let this strange perma control her life. “Who the hell is this he you keep talking about?” Angry as she was, the sadness in Raz’s smile nearly broke her heart. No smile should ever look like that. “He is me, I am him. We are Raz.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes it does Jaci, and you know it.” Jaci opened her mouth to retort, but closed it. Yea, she knew. One look at Raz’s face and she knew. “Why me,” she asked, voice small.

“Your heart called to us, Jaci, just as we called out to you.”

Jaci shook her head, not denying anything but simply trying to clear it. This was too much to take in at one moment. “So what now,” she asked, looking up at Raz. She could talk to Horus, but the final decision was not for any one fox to make.

“Now is up to you,” Raz replied. The black and white perma smiled as he listened to Jaci mutter a string of insults under her breath, and followed after her as she headed back to her home and tribe.

The little lock was splayed out on the hard ground, cold despite the raging fires that surrounded her. Rather than fade into blackness her mind seemed sharper, more focused than ever. She knew she was dying, could feel her life ebbing away into the ground beneath her. Why, why was it always like this?

For as far back as she could remember, the lock had always been left wanting. Neither the oldest nor the youngest, or the prettiest in the family. She had to watch her older sisters grow up to be popular, successful beauties. Her youngest sister was spoiled rotten, given everything she wanted. She was ignored, just another piece in the background.

That was fine though. Things had to get better after she began to live on her own, right? But one by one, her sisters all found their soul mates, and she watched her family glow with happiness. Where was her share? She had waited, patiently, watching her sisters take everything for themselves. Where was her famous storybook ending? Jealousy tainted her heart.

Things had to get better for her, they just had to! The lock went about her live, striving to keep her spirits high. But, no matter what she did or how great her efforts, mediocrity seemed to be the best she could manage. And now this. When the fire had started the lock was sure someone from her family would come to check on her. They never did. The lock wandered away from the remains of her home, realizing no one was coming. Standing at the shadow’s edge, she looked upon the burning town and felt hate.

That was when she was attacked. The predator hadn’t even seen it fit to end her life swiftly, drawing out the painful process and then showing her into the dirt while she still had a heartbeat. Even Death seemed to mock her, intensifying the pain rather than soothing it away. She was going to die here, in the dirt and her blood, alone, forgotten, forsaken.

As she finished the thought it suddenly became too much for the lock to bear. The jealously and new-found hatred burned, consuming her in much the same way the fire has consumed the town. Mind sharp with the pain, a singular moment of clarity rang through. The lock had been holding herself back this entire time, shackled by her very nature. After all, locks were meant to hold things in. It was then, moments from finally sinking into the black abyss of death, the lock rejected her very nature. It made all the difference.

Time passed. It could have been a second or an eternity. As she opened her eyes the first thing she noticed was a key, a bright green, beautiful key. She gasped, inhaling some of the ash that floated in the air, and sat up. She didn’t know how, but she was alive. Even more unbelievable, she had become a key! She stared at her key for a long time, then began to convulse with silent laughter. Silence gave way to giggles, which gave way to full-out laughter.

Now it was her turn! She would unleash her newfound potential upon this world, take and watch as others squirmed in envy of her! The key would leave them all laying in the dust, just as they had once left her! The only thing that made her new and icy heart hesitate? Wondering where she would strike first.

There is a place, deep in uncharted wilderness, where lives a small settlement of people. They consider themselves to be superior to all others, short only of being minor gods and goddesses. They are a dark people who worship all things evil and violent, preying on any who come before them. Their home is palace, a sprawling complex in a combination of cultural styles built in the eternal shadow of a mountain and hidden amongst the trees.

Births among these people are rare; rarer still are the babies who survive past their first two years in the harsh lifestyle they are subjected to. Kidnap and adoption of orphans has kept the clan alive more often than naught, though the mortality rate from the blood rite they must go through ensures that the clan has always been small in numbers.

Now, for the first time in over a decade, a child born into the clan has lived to celebrate her third birthday, considered a momentous achievement and a good omen. The child, a young girl, is given no special treatment. If anything she is pushed harder, farther past her limits than the foundlings, forged into a creature of darkness stronger than any. A demon.

The years pass and the child continues to grow, thriving and clinging to life with a vitality like that of a weed that refuses to die. She is strong, powerful, ruthless, and cold; the clan’s princess. They plan her future, to marry her off to the next-in-line head of a rival clan that share many of their ideals. With her to guide them they will grow, spreading out their cloak of darkness until they swallow the world!

Now is the eve of the girl’s fourteenth birthday, when they will present her with her future. But what blind fools, to think their demon princess a tame pet…



There were few windows set in the entire complex. The personal quarters had been built entirely from stone and had no windows at all, lit only by dim lamps widely spaced in the halls and bearing more resemblance to a cave than living space. Many of the training rooms were also built in the same, windowless fashion, with the intent to make one rely on more than just their sight in order to battle. In fact the only openings set in the walls in the entire ground floor were doors, so well-concealed that there seemed to be fewer than there actually were. The only windows to be found were on the second story of the outer walls, so that the complex could be defended in case of attack, and in the tallest building in the center of the complex, a six-story tower, so that one could view the entire complex from that spot.

The result was a maze of dimly lit corridors that were impossible for a stranger to navigate, but that was how the clan liked it. Only one of their training grounds was outside; the rest of the land was given over for livestock and farming, and the slaves who attended it, with the exception of a small open stretch reserved for gatherings and rituals.

A girl stood at the one of the tower windows. She was old enough that she no longer looked a child, but clearly not yet fully matured as an adult. For her coloring alone she could have been a corpse; skin the color of freshly fallen snow with hair to match and eyes as black as her skin and hair were white. She was perfectly motionless, a statue that didn’t even seem to blink or breath. Then, a subtle bit of movement…



The skin of her knuckles tightened as Lamia’s hand unconsciously folded into a fist, though her expression didn’t alter in the slightest. A cool breeze wafted in through the window to stir at her chin-length hair, but her skin was already so icy that it felt warm to her. Her dress gently billowed out behind her, a simple white garment that went to her knees with thin straps that left her shoulders bare. The only scrap of color on her was a scarlet sash tied around her waist, a smear of blood against a white backdrop.

’What fools,’ she thought, looking down on a handful of her clan mates in the field below, ordering the slaves about and setting things up for her birthday ceremony tomorrow. ’What completely worthless fools.’ A wave of hatred stole through Lamia, but it was a cold emotion that seemed to empty her rather than fill her. She turned from the window rather than continue to watch, but the emotion remained.

This hatred was no stranger to Lamia. For the past year she had been taken over by infrequent flashes of it, and when she realized that it was her clan at whom the emotion was directed it had only seemed to increase in frequency and duration. A dark whisper plagued her thoughts until there was room for nothing else, demanding action.

’We were once great,’ she thought, black eyes staring at the gray stone of the tower wall. ’We were feared. What need have we for slaves? There is plenty in the forests and what few crops and animals we need can easily be attended by our own. We have become lazy and soft. Soon we will be appointing servants to wait upon us, like worthless nobles with lily-soft hands and brains, good for nothing but decoration.’ The more Lamia thought the more intense her hatred become, turning her into a living ice sculpture.

’They have forgotten themselves and their purpose, and now they seek to use me for further gain.’ Lamia wasn’t yet supposed to know about her engagement, but she often knew of things she wasn’t supposed to. She had an uncanny ability to be exactly in the right place at the right time, and even decked in white and scarlet she could fade into shadows better than anyone else.

Lamia considered what she knew of the rival clan that she was intended to tie to her own. They were supposedly much like this one, but famous for their violent streak. They had slaves in plenty, a complex so magnificent it made this one look like a one-room shanty, and were so feared by all the local villages that a giant tribute of crops and goods were given to them annually in hopes of appeasing them so that they wouldn’t raid said villages. Oh, certainly they had warriors in plenty, perhaps even strong ones. ’Nothing but simple-minded, jumped-up bullies too lazy to do anything to add to their wealth, content to sit back with no purpose but that of pleasure.’

Such thoughts continued, and it wasn’t until the already dim light pouring through the window had been gone for quite some time that Lamia moved. Bare feet making no sound against the stone floor, she padded silently down the stairs and headed in the direction of the personal quarters. She became hyper aware, from even the smallest sounds to the feel of the floor beneath her feet and the air against her skin. It was as dark as her eyes in the buildings, but she needed no light to know where she was going. Her sash became a solid, palpable weight; she could feel it hugging her dress close to her skin, could feel every wrinkle in the cloth. She could feel the solid, familiar weight of the hidden knives she always kept on her person…

The sound of ripping greenery caught Dirk’s attention. Straightening his hat, the man went to investigate. Sounded like it was coming from the little flower patch back in the trees.

He rounded a corner, and noticed a girl sitting amid the greenery. Well, it would have been more accurate to say woman than girl, but with that ethereal white skin made even whiter by her crow wing-black hair and those thin limbs, she looked quite tiny and young. Her black brows were furrowed, and large black eyes in her thin face seemed to be staring at something imaginary. Judging by her expression and the barely contained ferocity at which she was tearing up the grass and flowers, Dirk was quite willing to bet it wasn’t a pleasant something.

“Ya know,” he drawled, stepping forward into the little space, “flowers don’t live so long when ya pull ‘em up like that.”

He pushed his straw hat up and scratched at his plain brown hair, dislodging a few errant pieces of straw. The woman froze, her curtain of short, black hair obscuring her face for a moment, then she looked up at him with those giant, black eyes. Dirk lazily snagged a bit of straw from his cuff and chewed on the end of it, his own emerald eyes watching the woman. There was a lot in those black eyes, and from the way they kept flickering the woman didn’t want him to see whatever she was trying to bury away in their depths.

The woman was the first to break the silence.

“There are plenty of flowers, why should you care that I pulled up a few,” she asked in a surprisingly hollow voice, reaching down to snag another flower and pull it from the earth. Dirk’s hand went up to scratch his head again.

“Well it’s true I wouldn’t care much if ya wanted to keep ‘em for something pretty t’ have, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.” He crouched down, resting his arms on his knees while he examined the handfuls of torn up grass and flowers, the rich scent of freshly exposed earth tickling his nostrils. Silence stretched between them.

This time it was Dirk’s turn to break the silence.

“Why don’t ya come on up to the house? I can get ya something to eat, and maybe find some plants for you to pull up that need to come out of the ground.” Despite the placid tone of voice and phrasing, it wasn’t a request. It wasn’t only the flowers Dirk worried over either, for he’d read more in those dark eyes than the woman probably wanted him to. Rage, sorrow, pride, suspicion… It all combined into a very potent mix, and he was afraid that if he just left the woman alone something bad would happen. This wouldn’t be easy, not at all…



Nox sat in an old wooden chair at an old wooden table, eyes roaming around the one-room cottage that the man had brought her to. It was actually clean and didn’t feel as cramped as it could have. She looked up at the loft that was probably where the man slept, while the man in question moved around the small stove, placing a kettle of water to boil and pulling out some mugs. She wasn’t really sure how she got here, since she’d had every intention of sending the man off. He’d seemed sympathetic though and just wouldn’t go away, so next thing she knew she was being led down to a little hut and steered towards a chair with cheerful babbles of tea and lunch filling her ears. For a brief moment she allowed herself to forget, but with the man distracted her previous thoughts came rushing back.

How dare him. How dare that interloper, that horrible thing think he could come in and just take Nyx away from her. Nyx was hers, just like she was Nyx’s. How dare that man presume to try carving his own spot in a soul already split between two bodies. Nox clenched her hands, dispassionately watching the pale skin stretch tight over knuckles and feeling a touch of regre that the old wood of the table was silky smooth and had no rough spots for her to scrape her hands on. If it wasn’t for The Thing she’d be with Nyx right now, not in this unnatural aloneness. But she couldn’t face her other half, not yet. As passionately as she hated that man, and as glad as she’d be to see the earth swallow him up on the spot, Nyx really liked him. She knew it would hurt Nyx if the man just vanished without a trace, and the only thing that could over-power all the negativity she felt was to make sure Nyx was never hurt. All she could do was hope the man really messed up, so she could have a legitimate reason to make him vanish…

A large, tanned hand crossed her line of sight, interrupting her thoughts. Nox stared at the mug of tea the man had set in front of her, listening to the light sounds of other utensils hitting the wood of the table. She didn’t move take the mug, even when the fragrant scent of the tea his her nose and reminded her that the last meal she’d had was quite a while ago. Suddenly those hands were back in her line of sight. They lightly grabbed her wrists and pulled her fisted hands to rest of either side of the mug. They really were large hands and very warm, and Nox had to resist the urge to jerk her wrists free of the touch.

Slightly unsettled, Nox finally looked up. There was a platter of neatly cut bread, cheese, and fruits. It wasn’t her normal fare, but given how her appetite had been lately she found it unexpectedly appealing. The scent of the tea hit her again, and this time her stomach made a vocal demand for food. The man chuckled, and Nox looked up to glare at him. Those bright greens eyes met her black look for look, and for some reason Nox felt her anger just slip away. Maybe it was because those damn green eyes were just too honest, too pure; she didn’t want such eyes to stare into hers and see the darkness that lurked within her.

Thankfully the man turned around and went back to the kitchen area of the hut.

“Sorry the food’s kinda simple. I keep more up at the main house, but whenever I’m out here I keep stuff that lasts long or doesn’t suffer from lack of cold or heat.” He picked up some bread sitting on the counter, what looked to be the rest of the loaf from which the offerings on the table had been cut from. Nox found her eyes drifting towards the man’s hands again, watching him pull apart the bread with those long fingers and setting the pieces on the window sill.

“My name’s Dirk, by the way,” he said without looking around. “Do you have a name, miss?” Nox greeted his question with silence, her fists unclenching to curl around the warm mug of tea. She hadn’t realized how cold her hands were until they were pressed against the warm ceramic. She had intended to leave the question unanswered, but then the man turned to look questioningly at her. Green caught black, and Nox quickly dropped her gaze to the table.

“It’s Nox,” she muttered, lifting the mug up to her face and sipping from it to give herself time to organize her thoughts.

Suddenly a large black crow landed on the window sill, cawing loudly and beginning to seize upon the bread Dirk had broken up.

“What’s that,” she asked, startled into speaking. Dirk dusted his hands over the sink and turned back toward the table, a smile on his face.

“That’s Corbie. I feed him pretty regular so he doesn’t wreak havoc on the fields.” He cast a fond look at the black bird, gobbling up the bread. “I found him as a baby and raised him, so he seems to have decided I’m his flock mate. There actually is a whole flock of crows around here somewhere, but Corbie’s always stuck with me.” Dirk sat at the table and reached for some of the food, layering the cheese and fruit on the bread and rolling it all up. The blissful expression on his face when he bit into it was kinda ridiculous…

He swallowed then looked at Nox with those dangerous green eyes. “Food’s not poisoned you know,” he said, pointedly glancing down at the platter. Nox reached out and grabbed a piece of apple and cheese, slowly munching on them just to keep the man from nagging.



Dirk went back to his food, watching Nox from the corners of his eyes. He was pleased she was at least eating something, and hoped the food woke her appetite so he wouldn’t have to nag at her about it. She was really too skinny as it was already, he doubted she could afford to skip meals. For a while the only sounds in the room were those that drifted from the window, Corbie pecking at the wood to get every bit of bread, and the crisp crunching noise when either he or Nox bit into the fruit. Finally satisfied, he wrapped his hands around his own mug of tea and turned his attention back to Nox. He was pleased to see that she had indeed snagged more of the food, and waited until she seemed finished before he spoke.

“So, what brought you to the flower patch to rip things up from the ground,” he said without any kind of preamble, sipping the cooled liquid in the mug. Nox stiffened, and for a moment Dirk wondered if she was gonna up and leave.

“I don’t see how it’s any of your concern,” she finally said, still sitting stiffly in her chair. Dirk shifted, tugging at the brim on his straw hat in a conscious gesture.

“Well maybe it ain’t,” he began slowly, “but I can’t see how it would hurt to talk about it? It might even help.” He continued to watch Nox, who quickly dropped her gaze to stare into her barely touched tea. He waited patiently, expecting more denial before they got anywhere. He could already tell this woman was proud, and didn’t like to confide in others.

“How do you feel about Corbie,” she suddenly said, surprising him. “You said he thinks of you like family. What about you?” Dirk blinked, trying to gather thoughts scattered by what seemed to be a sudden change of subject.

“I’m mighty fond of him,” he began slowly, feeling his way out with his words. “He’s a dead clever bird, you’d be surprised, and he’s got the best sense of humor anywhere around. Keeps me company when it’s just myself out working in the fields.” Nox nodded, as though Dirk’s words had confirmed something.

“And how would you feel if he just flew off? Found himself a pretty girl all bright of eye with flashy feathers, and left?”

“I’d feel a little lonely that he was gone, but happy that he found someone that made him happy,” Dirk responded without having to think on it. His greens eyes looked intently at Nox. “Is that why you’re upset? Your “Corbie” found something flashy and decided to follow it?” Nox didn’t look up from the mug, but Dirk had the sense that she was forming her answer.

“Not followed exactly.” Her fingers began to lightly tap against the mug. “More like the flashy bird pushed his way into our life and he’s stealing my “Corbie” away from me.” Dirk made a thoughtful sound.

“I think I need more details. Just who exactly is your “Corbie”, and what’s this flashy bird you’re talking about?”



It surprised Nox just how much she told Dirk, but once she started it seemed like she just couldn’t stop. She told him all about her family, about Nanna and Phanes, and her twin sister. How close she was to her twin, and about the man that had suddenly appeared in her life. She tried to downplay just how much she hated the interloper, but one look at those green eyes made her sure she hadn’t done so good a job at fooling him. Her hands clenched on the mug, the tea inside now cold. Suddenly thirsty after all the talking she had done Nox brought it up to her mouth and drained it in three gulps, setting it back down but leaving her hands curled around it for lack of anything else to do. She waited for Dirk to finish thinking and just say something already. Finally, he obliged her.

“Sounds like you’re both terrified and jealous,” he said in a thoughtful tone of voice, reaching up to tug on the brim of his hat again. She must have made an odd face at that, cause he took one look at her and threw up his hands. “No, hear me out on this. It sounds like you’re terrified cause you’re so close to your sister and you’re afraid you might be losing her to this guy. Now that she’s giving it to someone outside the family, and therefore safe, you’re a bit jealous.” Nox instantly denied Dirk’s statement in her mind, but the words just made too much sense; the more she played them over, the less conviction she held that he was wrong. She looked up at from her empty cup at Dirk’s face, to see his reassuring smile.

“It’s alright you know, I imagine the change would be difficult for anyone to go through. But just because your sister found someone else to love, it doesn’t mean she’s taking any of that love from you. Love is infinite, we can always make more of it.” Somehow that was exactly what Nox needed to hear. To her chagrin she felt her face crumpling, and tears began to leak out of her eyes. Dirk leapt up from his chair and circled the table, crouching next to her and seizing one of her small hands in both of his large ones.

“There there now, it’s alright. Just let it out sweetie, everything will be fine.” Nox looked into those twin pools of emerald, and couldn’t resist the comfort being offered to her. She found herself leaning into Dirk, her free hand fisted in his shirt and her head buried against his shoulder. He freed one of his hands and wrapped it around her to rub soothing circles into her back, making quiet noises of comfort.



Dirk rocked slowly back and forth, holding the sobbing Nox. He made shushing noises punctuated by softly whispered reassurances that everything would be alright and she’d always hold a special place in her sister’s heart. At some point she freed her other hand from his so that she was clinging to him by his shirt. He moved his free hand up and gently stroked her hair, finding the short black strands surprisingly soft. Slowly Nox’s sobs faded away, but she made no move to pull herself away from Dirk. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, his mind focused on the woman in his arms more than the time passing. Finally Nox tensed slightly, indicating she was ready to pull away. Dirk dropped his hands and Nox lifted her head from his shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and she looked like she could definitely use a tissue. He pulled a kerchief out of his pocket and used it to gently wipe the moisture from her face, then held it to her nose.

“Blow,” he commanded, like a parent with a toddler. Nox rolled her eyes and relieved Dirk of the damp kerchief to blow her nose herself, causing a smile to switch on Dirk’s face. She looked down at the much abused bit of cloth, wondering what to do with it, when Dirk solved the problem by simply plucking it from her fingers and wadding it up, shoving it back in his pocket. He shrugged at her questioning look and smiled.

“It’s alright, I’ve dealt with worse than used kerchiefs after a hard day on the farm.” She still looked doubtfully at him, but didn’t comment. Her eyes moved to the large damp patch that was his left shoulder.

“I got your shirt all wet,” she muttered. Dirk shrugged again.

“It’s alright,” he said, leaning forward to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “It was for a good cause, so I don’t mind.” This close to her face, he could see that she was still struggling internally. The brunt of her emotions had passed, sobbed out on his shoulder, but there was still something delicate and fragile about her. Her eyes met his and he froze, unable to move. Tension built between the two of them, and Dirk could feel Nox was locked in indecision. Something suddenly shifted in her eyes, hardened. And then from one moment to the next she was suddenly holding on to him again, but this time her arms were wrapped his neck and her face most definitely wasn’t pressed against his shoulder! For a second surprise held Dirk in place, then his own body began to respond. His hands came up again, his right to smooth across her hip and coming to rest at the small of her back, his left cradling her head. Dirk was the first to break the surprise kiss, the need for air becoming too great. Nox followed him as he moved back, dropping soft, urgent kisses along his jaw line and neck. He shivered and drew in a long, ragged breath.

“Not here,” he gasped, both hands holding to Nox’s shoulders as though to hold her back or fight for his own control. Possibly both. This had most certainly not been part of his plan! Nox’s response was to nibble at the skin where neck met shoulder, and Dirk found himself fighting to keep hold of what control he had of himself. “Not here,” he repeated with a bit more force. Nox pulled back, and he shivered again when he met the hunger in those black eyes.

“Then take us where we can continue,” she commanded, one of her hands sliding down to press against his chest and tug insistently at his shirt. Dirk weighed his options, making sure both of them were comfortable versus Nox’s impatience, then made up his mind. He rose, pulling Nox with him, and led them out of the cottage and towards the main house. It was further away, but bigger and with proper facilities and furniture. This hadn’t been planned, but if it was going to happen then by all that was holy Dirk was going to at least make sure he treated Nox right!



Nox woke up to the sound of bird song and a warm breeze caressing her face. She opened sleepy eyes and quickly shut them when confronted with the light of the sun. She turned and slowly opened her eyes this time, looking around her. This room was as simple as the cottage, and screamed country from the bare wood floors to the wooden furniture and brightly colored quilt that covered her. She looked over her shoulder at the window to see white curtains framing an open window and fluttering inward every time a puff of air hit them. For a moment she was confused and not quite certain where she was, then the memories of last night poured over her. Nox hurriedly turned her face from the window to bury it in the sheets, feeling her cheeks burning with the strength of her blush. Oh yes, every single detail was returning, vividly. Just what had gotten into her yesterday?

She sat up, staring down at the unfamiliar bed sheets. If she wanted to be honest with herself, which she rarely did, it had been pure and simple need that drove her. Not even physical need, though as she went back and lingered over memories of strong muscles under tanned skin and emerald eyes darkened almost to black she had to admit that part had been kind of nice. It was just that the comfort Dirk had offered her had been irresistible, and when she thought of having to leave and spend the night on her own somewhere, it brought back a crushing pain that she’d shied away from with all her being. Looking back on it now it seemed silly, but yesterday it had bordered close to an irrational fear.

Nox threw the covers off her and looked around. Her clothes were neatly folded and sitting on top of the dresser. She picked them up, the smell of clean cloth reaching her nose and making her suspect that Dirk had washed them at some point. When had the man found the time to do that? She moved through the house until she found the bathroom and took a quick shower. Clean and clothed, running her fingers through her damp black hair to air dry it, Nox stepped out of the house in search of Dirk. The house was sitting on the highest point in the area, and though Nox hadn’t been in a state of mind to appreciate it last night the large covered porch offered and excellent view of the land. From there it was easy to spot Dirk, the only figure working in a field close to the house, with a black speck fluttering around him and making loud cawing sounds that she could hear from here.

She stepped off the porch and headed towards him, walking slowly and thinking furiously about what kind of face she was supposed to make. Really, what expression did one wear after a very unexpected yet very satisfying night of passion that was left open as something that might continue past more than a one night stand. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted it to keep progressing or not, so how the heck was she supposed to know how to look at the man? In the end she kept up her customary blank expression, stopping at the edge of turned earth and waiting for Dirk to notice her. Actually he’d already begun to walk towards her even before she came to a stop, pausing here and there to stoop and pluck things from the ground. Rocks and weeds, it looked like. He got close enough for Nox to properly see his face, and aside from a light blush running across the bridge of his nose his smile was just as friendly as it was yesterday.

“I’d like to pull more plants from the ground. Is there something besides flowers?” She resolutely kept her expression blank, but could feel her own little blush. She’d sounded so silly! But Dirk just smiled.

“I can always use more hands at pullin’ up weeds,” he said. “Ya might get dirty though, wearin’ all that white?” Nox just shrugged. The state of her clothes really didn’t matter, and she could just bleach them later if it was that bad. Dirk chuckled, pulling off his straw hat and resting it on her own head.

“You’re so pale, don’t want you to sunburn,” he said by way of explanation, then indicated the field with a sweep of his hand. “Nothin’ useful growing here, so anything you see that’s green feel free to pull it up.” He smiled at Nox then went back to pulling rocks and stubborn weeds out of the field. Nox reached up and tugged on the brim of the hat, pulling it lower of her face to hide her blush. She stood there for a moment, then the tiniest of smiles crossed her face and she stepped into the field to help Dirk with the weeds.

Cyprus felt a thread of alarm speed up his heart. His back was pressed against a wall, and arms on either side of him prevented his escape. He focused his gaze firmly on the ground, refusing to meet the eyes he felt boring into the back of his head. "Let me go."

"No." The reply sounded surprisingly calm. He didn't trust that calm. He tried to hide his trembling, hands clenching into fists at his sides. Rowan shifted his body, moving slightly closer and bringing a hand around to reach for Cyprus' chin. Cyprus slapped the offending hand away and looked up to glare into the others eyes, too late remembering that was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. What he saw made him go pale, then flush a bright red. He tried to quickly drop his gaze again, but the hand came back, this time successfully catching him while he was too confused to push it away. The touch was gentle, index finger under his chin with the thumb resting just below his lips. As Rowan tilted his face upward, the thumb moved to lightly brush his lower lip. His heart was beating too fast, he couldn't think. Cyprus jerked his face away and tried to shove Rowan away from him.

"This isn't funny." Too fast for him to realize, let alone counteract, Rowan seized both of the hands trying to push him away and pinned them to the wall over his head. Holding his wrists firmly Rowan stepped closer, so that Cyprus felt the heat radiating from his body, enveloping him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to turn his head towards the ground, but Rowan's free hand seized his chin again, this time a bit roughly, and forced his face up. His eyes opened wide, heart pounding in his throat. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Rowan's face was barely an inch away from his (when had it gotten that close?), and Cyprus felt the other's breath mingle with his own as he spoke.

"It's not supposed to be."

Then Rowan's lips sealed over his, swallowing his protest so that it came out as a muffled yelp. He squeezed his eyes shut, and could not stop the trembling now. Rowan held his face so that he could not jerk away, and his body pressed Cyprus against the wall, pinning him so that he could not struggle. He whimpered as a leg pressed between his own, then shivered when a tongue licked at his lips. He pressed them firmly closed, denying access. This didn't seem to bother Rowan. The hand not pinning his own fell from his face and began to wander, tracing light patterns on his chest through the fabric of his shirt. He gasped involuntarily when those fingers brushed against his n****e, and Rowan took advantage of that moment, slipping his tongue in his mouth.

Cyprus' muffled sound of protest turned into an involuntary, needy moan as the Rowan's tongue brushed against a sensitive spot in his mouth, his hand still wandering over his body, drifting lower. Cyprus wanted to fight against this, but it felt like all the strength had fled his body. If Rowan hadn't been holding him up he probably would have collapsed. The need for air was becoming urgent, and as though Rowan sensed it he pulled away. Cyprus' breath came out in shaky gasps. Rowan chuckled softly, breath puffing against his shoulder. Anger at being laughed at drove strength back into Cyprus' limbs and he tried to twist his body away. Suddenly teeth nipped his skin where shoulder and neck met immediately followed by a swipe of the tongue over the sensitive area. He gasped, all thought driven from his head and the anger gone as suddenly as it had come. All he could do there was hang limply while Rowan continued his ministrations on his neck. He had an arm wrapped around his waist, holding Cyprus up, and he had released Cyprus' hands to cradle the back of his head. Cyprus' hands came up to rest against Rowan's chest, but he couldn't tell if it was to push him away or pull him closer.

The pain in her leg was gone, but Giselle's cheeks felt so warm that it seemed like they had been burned as well. All around her she could hear murmurs and whispers, felt a number of eyes just staring at her in shock or judgement. The flush in her cheeks deepened until it was almost painful, but she resolutely kept her head high. She was about to stalk off (she had no destination in mind, but anywhere away from all the stares would do) when she felt a gentle pressure at her elbow. She glanced over and recognized one of the Kirin who was staffing the event. They were about the same height as Giselle and had just as graceful a build, though they possessed a look of delicacy to them that Giselle lacked. Their grip gave lie to their looks though, firm enough to hold her without being painful.
- - "Walk with me," the Kirin requested, though there was a firmness to the set of their eyes that made Giselle think they wouldn't accept a 'no'. Giselle sighed softly through her nose, but fell into step beside the Kirin anyway. They led her away from the fire towards a tent. They kept a light grip on Giselle's arm the entire way. If it wasn't for the air of calm authority that exuded from the Kirin, Giselle would have pulled her arm free and just stalked away. She nearly did just that anyway when the reached the tent. Dozens of floral smells struck her nose. All of them were pleasant, but mingled together and hitting her all at once it was strong enough to make her sneeze. The Kirin released her to walk over to a chair, gesturing for her to sit. Giselle took advantage of her freed hands to cover another sneeze, and glared a little at the Kirin through narrowed, watering eyes.
- - "My hair is fine," she said, sniffling carefully to clear her nose. The Kirin didn't seem the least put off by her tone. They smiled, producing a handkerchief from the little table by the chair and walking over to place it in Giselle's hand. They gave her elbow a gentle tug towards the chair, then let go and resumed their place. Holding the handkerchief to her nose and looking rather grumpy about it, Giselle finally complied. The Kirin pulled out a comb and pulled Giselle's hair out of its ties. Even though she'd sat down with less than good grace, she couldn't help the relaxing of her muscles at the comb began to work through her hair. She'd always enjoyed having her hair played with.
- - "Do you want to talk about it," the Kirin asked, breaking the silence that had lain between them while they worked the comb slowly through Giselle's hair. She glanced over at them and quirked up an eyebrow. The Kirin nodded towards her leg, their hands never faltering in their steady brushstrokes. "It's unusual for people to fail the jump. Usually it's something holding them back, sometimes physically but more often mentally or emotionally," they clarified. Giselle sighed heavily, removing her handkerchief from her nose and mouth. A soft floral scent wreathed around her, coming from the comb and her hair.
- - "I'm fine. I don't really believe in luck anyway."
- - The Kirin cocked their head to the side inquisitively. It was usual for someone who didn't believe in luck at least in some form or fashion. "Why's that," they asked. Despite their questions and Giselle's determination to leave the fair grounds, she had to admit the combination of soothing smells and the feeling of having a comb run through her hair had soothed her into a much more placid state of being. Giselle usually hated talking about her, but she had slowly been worked into a much more receptive frame of mind.
- - "Luck's done nothing for me. Everything I have in my life right now is something I worked hard to get. If I sat around just waiting for my "luck" to change...," Giselle started to say, then paused. Maybe she was in a better frame of mind, but she wasn't that relaxed. She liked to keep her past in the past. It still hurt, but it wasn't quite the poison it used to be. She was slowly working through it. Out of the corner of her eyes Giselle saw the Kirin nod, almost as if they'd be privy to her thoughts. She wouldn't put it past them; Kirin were incredibly uncanny sometimes.
- - "It's wise not to rely on luck," they said. "Even with all the spells in the worlds it's still a fickle thing prone to changing at the drop of a hat. We can coax all we like, but it's still said that luck only helps those who don't rely on it." They smiled as Giselle turned her head slightly to give them a slightly incredulous look, one eyebrow raised. "You sound ambitious and determined. You also strike me as someone who has difficultly in asking others for help. It's understandable you wouldn't want to rely on something so fickle, but everyone could use a little luck every now and then. You might not think these rituals can help, but they certainly can't hurt."
- - Giselle pursed her lips, but didn't respond. Sure, plenty of people could and did see things by that light. The ones who could see her situation and say that all the things that happened, however painful they might have been, were what led her to this place were she was actually happy and doing well. Those were the optimists of the world. Giselle had always considered herself more of a realist with a sprinkling of pessimism, but since the person she was closest to was a optimist she was well acquainted with that line of thought. The Kirin actually reminded her of them a little, and it was that, more than their reasoning, that made her let out a small sigh and say, "I guess you're right."

Giselle stood before the fire again, hair back in it's usual style and surrounding her with comforting smells. She held on to that comfort and the memory of the brush running through her hair to keep her muscles from tensing. It felt like just about every eye was trained on her to see how she'd do this time. Making 'won't rely on it but it can't hurt' into a mantra inside her head and visualizing this as another hurdle she was determined to climb over, she broke into a trot that transitioned into a lope. She picked up her speed in the last two steps. The first time she'd tried to make the jump she'd stumbled a little at the last steps, which caused her to fumble the jump and land short. This time her gait was smooth, her leap a thing of grace. Giselle neatly cleared the fire. She absorbed the shock of her landing on the balls of her feet and stumbled forward a few steps. There was some cheering, and Gieslle looked up to see the Kirin who had brushed her hair quietly clapping and smiling at her. Even though she was uncomfortable with all the attention and still didn't really believe in luck, she felt her lips stretch into a return smile.