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They Say It's Your Birthday

(Dated to December 27th, 2009)

Mrowwwww.

Mrowwwww.

Mrowwwwwwwwwwwww.

Suri didn't even bother to open her eyes, because she knew that if she did, she would be met with nothing but a mass of thick grey fur. Maverick's growl rumbled against her face, and he pawed at her bangs experimentally, as if that would wake her from her slumber. When she didn't stir, he lowered his head and meowed even louder, kicking at the woman's shoulders with his back legs. He would have her awake, and he would do it now.

Even in her sleepy daze, Suri felt like she knew what had started all this. It was winter break, and in an attempt to force herself to relax, she had set her alarm clock to 9 AM instead of her usual 8 AM so she could sleep in. However, Mav had gotten used to a breakfast promptly at 8:10, and it was now somewhere around 8:45, in all likelihood, and he wanted his food. It made sense, Suri supposed. After all, it was the third time this week she had woken up with cat on her face.

Maverick began to try the sweet-talking route, purring as he shuffled backwards and nuzzled his head against Suri's nose. Kindness was only met with irritation, however, and with a yowl the cat went toppling from the bed, tossed by a pair of thin pale arms. Suri wiped her eyes free of cat hair as she sat up, sliding out of bed and into her Hello Kitty slippers on the floor. Maverick hissed and nipped at her ankle, but she shooed him away with an errant hand, shuffling out of her room while running a hand through her fluffy hair.

Her apartment was small, but servicable enough for one person. She walked through the living room, ignoring the fact that Maverick bounded onto the loveseat and past her into the kitchen, but ultimately followed, staring in disdain at her coffee machine which was only just starting to brew, given that she shouldn't have been up for another fifteen minutes. Shaking her head, she ignored the coffee for the moment, putting her attention instead to making eggs. Maverick mewed, batting at his bowl, but was still ignored.

Faintly, Suri could hear her ringtone from the next room over, but decided to ignore that, too. Breakfast, for the moment, was more important than any early morning phone call.

By the time her eggs had finished, enough coffee had brewed for three quarters of a cup, which was enough for Suri. She collected her food on a small, ceramic plate, ran some water in the dirtied pan, and poured herself the fractional cup, setting it all down on her coffee table. She took a bite of breakfast and then looked to Maverick, who was not so much peeved as he was intrigued by the new smell, staring up at her from the foot of the couch. He trilled softly, his tail flicking back and forth, and with a sigh Suri pinched a small piece of egg off her plate, offering it to the cat. He purred as he accepted the apology, then went back to moping around his food bowl patiently.

Breakfast was finished in silence, as was the cleaning of the breakfast dishes, the feeding of the cat, the cleaning of said cat's litter box, getting dressed, and taking out the trash. The silence was broken when one of her neighbors cornered her by the mailboxes, wanting some friendly smalltalk from the woman, but the most he got was a polite acknowledgement and the excuse that she was very busy today, and then she was gone, back up to her apartment. Suri vaguely thought of playing music, but the radio stations were still running Christmas carols, and she had gotten tired of those before Thanksgiving even rolled around. She began to tidy her living room, but it occured to her that it had been tidied the day before, and she paused as a thought occured to her: she really had nothing to do today.

Her phone beeped, indicating a new voicemail. Suri decided not to ignore it any longer.

One was a text message from Amanda, which gave Suri a moment's hesitation. How long had it been since they last talked?

happy birthday suri!!!! call me and well get dinner lol

Suri shook her head, but nevertheless the creases of her mouth twitched upwards into a smile. It was a nice gesture from the woman, but she knew that Amanda had more important things to be doing, with her wedding only a month away. There was no time to waste for a frivolous birthday dinner. As she took her attentions to the other message, a voice mail, Suri took an even greater pause. The caller ID ever so innocently identified the number as 'Mom and Dad'. Slowly, Suri typed in the password to her inbox, then pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hey, there, Suri dear. I figured you'd be up this early, but maybe you're out and about or something about that. Your father and I just wanted to wish you a--"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HON!"

"--Yes, Happy birthday, dear. Whenever you get the chance to come on home, we've got you a few things, nothing like when you were little, but stuff like a few nice outfits for school--"

"I'MMA TAKE MY GIRL OUT DRINKING. IT'LL BE GREAT."

"Don't listen to him, Suri, he's already been drinking. But anyway, we love you and miss you! Say hi to Mav for me!"

Suri blinked, then flipped her phone shut, shaking her head. Only her parents would dare to leave something like that on her phone. Sitting back down on the couch, she scrunched up her face a bit, considering her options, then finally settled on petting Maverick, who had in the meanwhile weaseled his way into her lap.

"I guess it's just you, me, and Buddy Holly, then, huh? Not much of a birthday party."

The cat purred in response.

Regular RP Two

Caught You!

-in progress-

Regular RP Three

What the Eff Is This

(Counted as a solo) Suri spends some quality girl time with her Queen, where she's entirely out of her element on more than one account.

Charm and Debonair (Nightmare Solo Two)

The general had the charm and debonair of an older gentleman, because he was one: his brown hair was gently streaked with the matured essence of grey, his gentle grin lined with the experience of a well-traveled life, his posture stately and resigned. Nevertheless, his eyes glittered with youthful mischievousness as he regarded her, and with a nod they were bounding across rooftops, the warm summer wind tugging her eyes open to the evening sights, magnified by the rush of power that linked her to the dark energy of the Negaverse. She basked in it, relished it, even more so now that she could seek out the guidance of her general, someone who, for once, wasn’t a child.

Her boots scuffled softly as she landed on cracked cement, and she looked with some curiosity to the man at her lead, who seemed to be concentrating on something intently. With a practiced hand, the man reached into the subspace of the Negaverse and yanked, revealing a thin black cord that he slowly, carefully, pulled out to reveal to the night. At the end of the wire was a youma, which crawled out on six gangly talons and regarded her with an indignant huff. It snapped at the man’s hands, but he yanked back with the leash, causing the beast to whimper and yield.

“I want you to hold this,” the general instructed, lifting the length of the black cord that held the youma, “And make sure that you maintain control. Any fear, any hesitation, and it will be on you in an instant.” Zircon nodded, her face expressionless. Slowly, carefully, she reached for the leash, grasping it tightly with pale fingers. The youma, sensing a shift in ownership, began to thrash about, but she yanked at the leash in the same way she’d seen the general do, and with a hiss the beast cowed to its temporary master. Softly the lieutenant exhaled, enjoying the small victory.

“Very good,” the general appraised, looking at the pair with a bemused stare. The youma snarled and gnashed its teeth in his direction, but otherwise went ignored. “But ownership of a youma runs deeper than a leash. You’re going to have to reach out with your mind to tame the beast. Give it a try.” Zircon stared down the youma, softly exhaling, and as she made eye contact something clicked, deep in the back of her skull. The youma shuddered, then took a careful step towards her, a buzzing in her ears slowing growing louder.

“I think I have it,” she responded, never leaving the creature’s gaze.

“Good. Now give it an instruction.” The general motioned to further on down the road, where all of a sudden sounds of battle rose up with animalistic shrieks and waves of what could best be described as audible glitter. There were senshi afoot, and the youma snarled in time with Zircon’s glower.

“What are you waiting for? Tell it to attack.”

Zircon’s concentration was broken only for the slightest moment, hesitant because of the sudden impatience in the general’s voice, and in one tiny glimmer of weakness she glanced back at the man, as if he would provide reassurance. Instead, the buzzing in her ears grew louder, turned into snarling words: attackattackATTACK.

It all happened in an instant. The youma leapt, but not for the senshi in the distance, and in an instant the general was down, caught off guard by the sudden offensive. He shouted, first in anger and then in pain as the thing thrashed about, biting and tearing and scratching, the cacophony a horrible symphony when doubled with the noise of her bond working up into a frenzy. She tried to pull at it, tried to bend it to her will, but no matter how she grasped at the darkness it simply curled and hissed between her fingers, almost snickering at her attempts at control. As a last resort, she began to wrestle with the creature herself, but it was strong, stronger than she’d expected, and as it threw her from it’s bristled back she caught a glimmer of blood--

Suri awoke with a jump, having expected to make impact with concrete as opposed to the warm mattress of her queen-sized bed. With a wide-eyed stare she looked down at her hands, clutching desperately at her sheets, and finally she forced herself to slow her breaths, to calm down. Her left hand in particular showed a thin line of blood, and as she unfurled her fingers she realized that there was a tuft of soft, grey fur tucked tightly in her palm.

Maverick hissed at Suri to let her know that he did not approve of being included in her nightmares.

Her composure regained, the woman sighed and shook her head, stepping lightly out of her bed and crossing the floor to her closet, giving her cat a sympathetic pat on the head before glancing through her dress clothes. Her lack of control, had been a dream, only a dream, and not something she intended to make reality.

Twitterpated (Solo Six - 771 Words)

From a distance, it appeared a recipe for disaster, and in many ways it was: there was Suri Ellis, Ice Queen extraordinaire, was walking briskly through the lobby of her apartment complex, her hair disheveled and a long, thin coffee stain down the middle of her pressed white shirt. In her arms was a crumpled blue sweater with a matching stain, held gingerly to her chest. However, despite her clear attachment to the ruined article, she kept her head held high and her expression aloof, her heels clopping softly against the tile floor as she moved with purpose to the elevator doors. In a similarly stoic fashion, she waited silently for her ride up to the 14th floor, and when the golden doors slid open, she took four graceful strides into the car, signalling for her destination with one determined push of a button.

Her poker face held until the doors slid closed, and in a shocking turn of events, the normally cold-hearted woman bubbled over with a fit of giggles, clutching at her side as much as the stained sweater. Normally, the series of events suggested by her present state of attire would have her fuming, but as it was, the only thing she could do was laugh. And laugh. And continue to do so until she reached her floor, at which point she paused just long enough to breathe before she was giggling again.

So many things had gone horribly wrong on her second date with the dashing Mr. Darrow, from the poor Shufflepucks service to his bumbling conversation that escalated to a hand gesture that sent her five dollar mocha right down her favorite cashmere sweater. And yet, there was something so...endearing about it all, so charming and quaint, it made her insides bubble with a strange, jubilant exhilaration she had never experienced before. She thought of the way his crinkled green eyes sparkled when he had complimented her attire, and again her heart was swept away, causing her to fumble her keys just short of her own front door. Normally, this sort of incompetence would only darken her mood, but as it stood she was too busy being on Cloud Nine to have her day ruined by some dropped keys. With a second try, she was successfully in her apartment and off to washer and dryer, practically humming the entire way.

Maverick sprinted from the kitchen, meowing an angry command for food, but for all his efforts, the only thing he got was a gentle pat on the head amidst Suri's de-robing. Down to her bra and pencil-skirt, she finally cleared her head enough to survey the damage. The undershirt could be saved, but the sweater itself was a mess. She put it on a hanger just in case it could be dry cleaned, but overall she was writing the garment off as a lost cause. It was no matter, though. Clothes could be replaced. Charming memories in coffee shops could not.

As Suri went to her bedroom to grab some more comfortable (and clean) clothing, she thought on her disposition with a hint of caution. She'd heard hundreds of times from her mother to keep one's guard up in romantic situations, and so far she'd always stuck to that warning, tried and true. But why shouldn't she have a little fun for once in her life? Why shouldn't she appreciate someone who appreciates her in return? What was wrong with letting herself go for once, for peeling away her icy layers to show someone that there was a sincere person underneath? She wasn't just a person, either: underneath all the weakness of her mortal skin there hid an officer of the Negaverse, proud and strong and ready for someone else to see that. What was so wrong in wanting that?

What ended up finally darkening her mood was the sudden revelation that she'd been somehow robbed of this giddy feeling by her mother for years because of her silly proverbs and wives tales about getting hurt by young romance. What would her mother know of love anyway, being on her third marriage? That wasn't to say that Suri was for-certain in love, no, it was far too soon to take that sort of step with Tony...

...but the moment she imagined his name she was all aflutter once again, melting onto her bed with the warmest of smiles on her face. No one would see it, probably never even the object of her affections, but whether the affair lasted for two days or two years it was clear that the young lieutenant was, in fact, twitterpated.