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 Posted: Sun Nov 13, 2011 6:03 pm
Growth Requirements:
To Sage120 pages of Duo+ Roleplay: 13/110 30 Solo Entries: 13/30 Items Won: Incense of Time (-10 pages from Roleplay Requirement)
Note: 2 rare Alchemia will lower requirement to 90 pages, 80 with Incense.
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Posted: Sun Nov 13, 2011 8:00 pm
Solo, 634 Words
Her heels clicked loudly on the marble floor in the entryway, and she looked up at the vaulted ceilings as the sound echoed. The realtor was saying something, but Rosel elected to ignore her. She didn’t care who had owned it, or what square footage it was, or what big-name family was just down the street. If she liked the place, she’d take it. That was all there was to it. It was bare and breezy, such a stark contrast to the house she’d just come from.
Her ex-husband’s family home had been positively loaded with trinkets and décor. Once upon a time, he thought she’d be interested in the history behind each and every bauble. She’d had to shut that mess up right quick. Rosel cast a sidelong, irritated glance at the realtor. The stocky woman was waving her hand at the dining room doors. Okay, they’re oak. Who cared. Only the people with family to impress actually ate in there, and Rosel would kill before letting her own family actually dine here.
The place was only a townhouse, though an admittedly extravagant one. More room than she’d ever need. She just couldn’t bring herself to live in some cramped apartment like some commoner fresh out of school. Given her budget, she’d had to quickly, and harshly, disillusion the real estate agency of the idea of some grand mansion. The first company had jumped to the same idea, but had made the mistake of insinuating that a larger house would be a better place to raise a family. Oh, how she’d had to rein herself in on that one. A smoldering office would have taught them a lesson, but it would have drawn far too much attention to herself. She'd settled for discreetly melting the door lock on her way out.
The realtor was talking again, interrupting Rosel’s thoughts. She frowned as the woman tried to steer her towards the living room. ”I want to see the bedroom,” she stated mundanely, and made her own way up the stairs, leaving the woman to scramble up behind her. ”I don’t care about the patios, the dining room, the ballroom, the drawing room… I just want the bedroom and the kitchen.” She paused between steps, thinking for a moment, then resumed. ”Ok, maybe the drawing room. Maybe.”
“If you’re only interested in those rooms, might I suggest a penthouse suite perhaps? There are some very upscale-” The woman stopped short, nearly tripping on the stairs as Rosel immediately halted and turned to pin the woman down with a fluorescent glare.
”I don’t want an apartment. I’m not a student. I want space to fill, if I so chose. If I like the bedroom, this place is mine.” Though she spat the words, the prospect of a sale lit the realtor’s eyes and the greed was quickly masked by hasty professionalism. Resuming her trot up the stairs, Rosel resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
The bedroom was a good size, with a large window and balcony opening up above the manicured backyard. Unlike the two below floors which had balconies to the front, the bedroom had an alcove of space towards the front of the house with a trio of windows surrounding it. A walk-in closet the size of a small hallway; it might fit most of her clothes. Huffing a judgemental sigh, Rosel turned in place in the middle of the room, shoes now muffled by the expensive, plush carpeting. Plenty of room for draperies, and as big a bed as she liked. All to herself.
She waved a hand imperiously at the realtor who had finally caught on and remained silent against the wall. ”Bring me the papers. I like it.” And just like that, she’d found her new home.
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Posted: Sun Feb 19, 2012 12:42 pm
Solo, 756 words
It had started out as just a drizzle. Stretching languidly in her bed, Rosel listened to the white noise of the rain as the small bones of her back popped. She was going to have to wear her hooded cloak today, to protect her hair from all that rain. And the netted top too, it was the only thing that matched those chic galoshes she got last month. They were on sale last month, and she’d gotten quite a meal out of that attentive salesboy… With the memory of a satisfying feed, she drifted back to sleep.
An all too familiar crack woke Rosel with a panicked jolt. As the crack faded away into discontented rumbles, she realized the thunder hadn’t come from her, but outside. Heaving a sigh, she twisted onto her side and pulled the comforter up around her. In a few, short hours, the drizzling rain had turned into a thundering downpour. Hearing thunder from anywhere but herself was always a bit unnerving. It seemed to be a mockery of her own power, that in the grander image of nature, her lightning couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.
And of course, thunderstorms usually meant torrential rain. As in, the kind only idiots would go out in. Even her fur lined cloak and chic galoshes wouldn’t protect her outfit and, more importantly, her hair.
So what was she supposed to do with her day?
Kicking off the covers, she heaved herself off the bed and made a line for the bathroom. A nice hot shower would help her mood and maybe the rain would be gone by the time she finished her hair.
Three hours later, she was scrubbed, moisturized, primped, and curled, and the rain didn’t show any signs of stopping. Hanging despondently from the curtains, Rosel dropped her forehead against the glass. The view of her flooded front walkway slowly fogged over with her breath. ”Rain, rain, go away…” she sang miserably to herself. Huffing in disgust with herself, she dashed the curtains away and paced back to the bed. She needed to occupy herself. She’d go crazy if she didn’t. Throwing on a silk dressing gown over her negligee, she marched determinedly downstairs.
Forty-five minutes later showed the rarely-used stove area in the kitchen in complete disarray. Half the cupboards were open after she’d hunted down a skillet. An empty egg carton, her usual hangover remedy, lay open on the counter, filled with shattered shells. The former contents of the shells were remanded to the bottom of the trash can, blackened and steaming.
At the stove, Rosel’s last attempt at a cooked egg fizzled defiantly in the middle of the pan. How did anyone cook anything when it was this hard? It’s not like she didn’t know what she was doing; it was perfectly straight forward. The stove was on high, so it cooked the quickest, and the egg goes right in the middle. She didn’t even get any shell bits in this one. But all it did was burn and stick to the pan!
In a carefully constructed attempt to control her anger (she was on her third flippy thing – she’d melted the others in frustration), Rosel calmly tried to flip the egg. It was barely cooked, but if she could just keep flipping it before it burned… The egg ripped in half, showing a blackened underside.
A small twitch developed under Rosel’s eye.
A thin curl of smoke rose from her hand as the flippy thing warped and melted.
Throwing it at the stove in an expulsion of fury, she unleashed a fat, black bolt into the center of the pan. The egg flared briefly, causing the overhead fan to kick on, then disintegrated into ash at the bottom of the warpped metal that was previously the pan. Waving her hands in an attempt to contain her scream of frustration, she stomped her bare foot on the tiled floor. With a quick, angry motion, she snapped the stove off.
She stood at the stove for a full minute, breathing heavily through her nose. The thunder outside took the opportunity to clap loudly, startling her. ”PISS OFF!” she howled in frustration at nature’s ill-timed mockery.
Forget it. She’d get cereal like she did every other day and she was going back to bed and she wasn’t getting back out of it until she could go outside again.
Three hours later, the maid stared at the wreckage of the kitchen…and decided it’d be best not to ask.
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Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2012 1:57 pm
Solo, 1,447 words
*Warning: Violence and mild gore
✤ Neon Toadstool
A bland, ordinary mushroom in the day, a vibrant, glowing mushroom in the night.
✤ Plume of Peacock
Classy and flaunting, full of colors and pride.
✤ Black Opal
It seems dark and dangerous, as if it might suck you inside its blackness.
✤ Tiger's Blood
A potent, spicy liquid. Not for the weak of heart.
✤ Bloody Claws
Claws ripped off an angry beast. It brings about a sense of ferocity and vindictive dominance.
✤ Electric Heart
Strong Lightning Elemental Theme.
It was a forest? Really? Rosel had figured the whole Grave thing was metaphorical, or would at least imply an actual graveyard. Not a yucky, muddy, bug-filled forest. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. It’s not like they were asking her to relocate there, just run around in there for a while. And she only had to do it once, unless she failed-
No. She wouldn’t be failing. It was totally impossible that she could fail, so stupid thoughts like that shouldn’t even be entering her head. She stepped carefully up to the Grave Keeper, puffing her chest out in bravado that she mostly felt. He wouldn’t turn her away, would he? These things were all about strength, and she had plenty of that. She always had. She knew it. I DARE you to tell me I’m not strong enough.
In a move that startled her, despite her inner pep talk, the door swung open. Almost forgetting what she was there for out of sheer shock, she stumbled forward and tried not to think of the Grave Keeper’s judgmental eyes on her back as the doors swung shut behind her.
Blinking in the darkening dusk, she fumbled momentarily with her bag before sniffing irritably and forcing her hands down to her sides. Six tea ingredients. Go.
Stomping through the undergrowth and lamenting the mud on her boots, Rosel paused and frowned in interest. Spots of light had appeared at the base of a few trees and were getting brighter by the second. As the sky was quickly darkening into night, Rosel anxiously crept closer. Oddly enough, they were neon green mushrooms.
Picking the brightest of them, she held it out in front of her, bathing the underbrush in an eerie glow.
In the gathering darkness, all she could make out were twigs and dead leaves. Too plain for her. She wanted something… There! Jumping over a branch, she skidded to her knees next to a small glint that picked up the glow of the mushroom like a beacon. It was, oddly enough, a hat. In the band was a magnificent peacock feather, somehow saved from the dirt and mud. Plucking it out, she swiped it once over her face in a small indulgence before tucking into the ties of her bag. Next, she turned her attention to the gemstone at the front. Even in the dull light of the mushroom, it was a black opal if she ever saw one. Flakes of fluorescent green and blues sparkled in the deep, perfect darkness of the gem. Rosel almost dropped the mushroom before she realized she’d been staring. She set down the mushroom purposefully, and worked the opal out of the gaudy fake-gold setting, nearly breaking a fingernail in the process. She gave it one last triumphant look before dropping it into her bag.
Night fully settled and Rosel began to wonder how long she’d have to wander around before she found anything else of value. From what she’d heard, bits and pieces were just lying around, waiting for someone to pick them up. What total idiocy. Why would anything, like that hat, even be in here? Did someone-
There was a quiet chuffing noise and Rosel stopped dead in her tracks. There wasn’t supposed to be anything in here, nothing alive anyway. Right? No one said anything about live animals.
The chuffing noise came again, clearer this time now that she’d stopped. It was almost a cough, wheezing and breathy. Rosel turned toward it and crept towards the sound. When she heard it again, she stepped nervously into a clearing, looking up abruptly as the moon came out from behind a cloud. It was a bright, full moon, and she put the mushroom away.
Tearing her eyes away from the full moon, she looked down and struggled on the shocked and terrified gurgle that climbed up her throat. Two great beasts, nearly hidden in the shadows of the far edge of the clearing, lay in pools of blood and mangled forest debris. One, which may have been some kind of dragon, was twisted into a motionless tangle of limbs and scales, its throat and belly cracked open and dripping.
The coughing sound came again and Rosel stumbled backwards into the tree behind her. a massive tiger lay to the right of the dragon, it’s fur slick with blood and almost completely hidden in shadow. Its chest was also torn open, and she saw the sharp glint of broken bone exposed. Digging deep for courage, she looked up and saw one golden eye regarding her hazily. The bloody mass of tiger shifted slightly, and the coughing wheeze escaped into the night air.
The great tiger had won its battle, but would still die.
Inching forward, dead leaves collected in front of her feet as Rosel forced herself towards the beast. This was it; this was the lucky break in her test. Forget twigs and mud. She’d have this for her tea.
The wheezing sounded again, deeper, and Rosel stopped a scant few feet from the massive tiger. Her knees threatened to buckle and a violent tremor rocked her frame. She could die right now, if that tiger wasn’t as defeated as it looked. She could die right now. She took another step closer.
The tiger shifted slightly, and Rosel nearly wet herself trying to stand her ground. The tiger’s attempt at a growl came again, this time accompanied by a fresh spurt of blood from its chest cavity. One eye stared at her balefully and Rosel forced herself to stare back.
Did she dare? She did.
A few deep, unsteady breaths and she clenched a fist. Her lightning, puny next to this massive beast, sparked along her arm. The tiger shifted again, causing the spurt of blood to widen into a small river out onto the grass. This time, Rosel didn’t flinch.
There was a moment of silence, where the wind stilled and Rosel and the tiger locked eyes. Rosel could almost feel the baleful energy of the beast.
Then, in a great crack, bigger than she’d ever produced, black lightning shot from her arm into the tiger’s chest. The tiger arched up mightily and produced a deep, mournful bellow.
In a moment, it was over. The sickening stench of scorched flesh filled the clearing and Rosel fought not to hurl. She’d killed before – insects, rodents – but never something so profoundly…powerful. Fumbling with her bag, she stepped forward shakily. It suddenly seemed surreal, that she could ever master such a creature. But out came a vial, and she crept forward. Nearly in the beast’s embrace, she bottled some of the tiger’s blood. Something else caught her eye. Peering into the bloody chest, Rosel saw what she wanted.
Looking about nervously, as though someone would come upon her if she weren’t quick, she jumped up and sidled over to the dragon. The blood here was old and flaky, the blood of the loser, the dominated. One great arm was outstretched, twisted and mangled. Rosel reached forward and grabbed ahold of a single bloody claw, quickly, before she could stop herself. It was cold and still. The bones holding it were shattered and with one hard wrench that nearly made her gag, Rosel pulled it free.
Breathing heavily despite the minimal effort, she walked slowly through the blood, back to the tiger. Her last ingredient would be her greatest. Kneeling in the freshly spilled blood, she looked up into the face of the tiger. It was turned away from her. One hand reached up to turn it back to her, as though forcing the dead eyes to watch her at her task would make her victory more complete. But she stopped halfway, and forced her attention back to the chest, gripping the claw tightly.
Minutes passed before Rosel finally stepped back, nearly drenched in the black, cooling blood. In her hand, she held the heart, and she felt the fizzles and sparks of the lightning still trapped in the tissue. Wrapping it in a cloth and depositing it in her bag, she turned her back on the dead beasts and walked shakily back to the edge of the forest.
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Posted: Sun Mar 11, 2012 2:50 pm
Solo, 567 words
He went down with a struggle. Rosel preferred it that way, it felt like more of a victory. The ones that just sagged and cried in defeat tasted…dull. The experience still captivated her every time, but it was less satisfying when reliving the event ten minutes later. When she’d shocked him so much that his cries were only high whines but yet he still clawed and tried to pry her fingers away. When she walked away tired and sated, but also reminding herself to ice her shoulder before bed. It was delicious.
It was hard to quantify the actual taste of a witch’s heart. It tasted like…euphoria. Like that first good stretch on a warm morning, or a well-earned chocolate after a long, long diet. It tasted like pure, white light. There wasn’t anything in the world that could compare to it. As the last breath of her current prey’s heart dissolved into her, Rosel let her eyes flutter closed in the wave of bliss.
While every heart qualified as fully delicious, each had their own tang. For example, men versus women. Rosel rarely ate women, though that was more out of convenience than any real preference. Her body and attitude made it easier to seduce men, but occasionally she caught a homesick student, or a housewife out to get back at a cheating husband. Children were still a mystery though. Rosel hated the little bastards anyway, so she’d never bothered to get close enough to one to eat.
Her first heart was as much an up and down experience as any first-time. It had taken her nearly by surprise when it happened. She hadn’t actually intended to go all the way, she just really, really wanted to drain that damn old woman dry, right then and there. Imagine Rosel’s surprise when she caught ahold of the heart too. Auras rarely gave Rosel any particular taste, except for fellow Majin, but the Grandmother’s heart tasted like…the aftertaste of the last bite of a fantastically cooked steak. Spicy and filling, with an accent of determination, even in death.
Even years later, she wished she’d had the presence of mind to take her husband’s. After seeing her suck the life out of his grandmother, he hadn’t even had the gonads to try and stop her from turning on him. She’d been so out of it with mindless pleasure, riding the waves of sensation from her first stolen heart, the lightning that had killed him was purely by accident. It had flowed between them like an absent-minded exhale that topples a castle of cards. Then all at once he was dead. Without even the decency of giving her his heart. He probably would have tasted miserable anyway. Like caviar. Decent in passing, with the thrill of eating a small fortune, but tiresome on the stomach.
Then of course there was the fact that she’d accidentally set fire to the house. That had somewhat ruined the rapture of the moment.
But back to the moment at hand. Her prey gave one last exhale before she allowed him to slide to the ground. He was a nobody trying to jump her in a nowhere back alley. They’d find his body and nobody would be surprised he’d ended up there. Adjusting her hair, Rosel peeked out around the corner before strutting out into the empty night. Nothing like sleeping on a full stomach.
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Posted: Tue Mar 27, 2012 4:55 pm
Solo, 1,091 words
Miserable night. Miserable, miserable night. Rosel’s one and only lucky break was that she’d made it inside before the rain started. Mostly, anyway. So what if she did catch a few stray raindrops? So what if her hair was frizzing up, even as she sat there, alone and miserable? She didn’t care. Not one bit. At least the tavern was warm. Ok, so that was two lucky breaks.
A fight had apparently cleaned the place out not five minutes before Rosel strode in, giving everyone else just enough time to get home to their beds and wives before the rain broke out. Just enough time for Rosel to get stuck in an empty tavern with frizzy hair and no meal prospects for the night. With the rain coming down like it was, she’d be stuck for a while.
The bartender was an old gal, gray and saggy and wrinkly. Rosel was just frustrated enough to take her heart if not for the woman’s position. Bartenders were very visible, way too easily noticed if they went missing. There was enough scum in the underbelly of the world without having to risk exposure out of frustration. She mentally bet herself on what the old woman’s heart would taste like. Dry and crumbly, like...stale bread.
Speak of the devil, here the bartender came, with another appletini, just as Rosel finished nursing her previous one. Dry and saggy maybe, but she was good at her job. As she got closer though, and as Rosel looked up with thanks, it was obvious the woman was going to…talk. Not entirely unexpected – talking seemed to be part of the job – but Rosel was always too busy wooing a potential meal to take part.
“Well, you have to talk sometime, sweetheart. Can’t sit here in silence all night long.” The woman’s dry observation made Rosel blink in surprise.
“Oh, I beg to differ, I think I’ve been rather successful at it so far.”
The bartender huffed indifferently. “You waiting for someone?”
“Not really.”
“Huh. Got stood up?”
Rosel would have slammed her drink down if it wouldn’t have resulted in getting vodka and schnapps all over her. “NO, I was not stood up. If you have to pry, I came here hoping for a little culture with my evening.”
The bartender laughed and eased into a chair, much to Rosel’s irritation. “Easy now. So you’re not settled down yet?”
“No, not settled. No interest in it either.” Relationships were always an uncomfortable subject, but not one she hadn’t addressed before. About half of the men in the world were decent, so about half the men she preyed on actually asked if she was taken before offering to ‘walk her home’. As always in casual conversation, no sense in bringing up her ex-husband.
“Good,” the bartender laughed dryly. “These days, lasses don’t have to get married at your age, not like in my day.”
Rosel eyed the contents of her glass as she gently swirled it. “Back when the wheel was invented?”
Another dry laugh. “Sharp thing. But close enough. Marriage was expected back then.”
“Still is, for some families.” Where did that come from?
“Is that so.”
“Yea.”
A noncommittal noise of interest was all the reply she got.
“Stare at me all you want you nosy old bat, that’s all you’re getting.” Rosel snorted derisively and glanced irritably over her glass.
“Fair enough. So. What’s a pretty, unattached, young thing doing in a run down place like this in the middle of a rainstorm?” A satisfied smirk showed a mouth of uneven and missing teeth.
Sighing heavily, Rosel turned her gaze to the torrential rains outside. “I came out to have a good time. Didn’t realize it was supposed to rain. It shouldn’t have mattered, if anyone was actually here…”
“Well, these things happen sweetheart.”
Nostrils flared as Rosel snorted angrily. Alone. alone, alone. Except for the old bat, that she couldn’t eat anyway.
“And rather than go home and give up the night as a loss, you’d rather sit here in an empty bar and watch the rain while you pay for drinks. Something most people could do at home for free.”
Rosel gave the bartender a sideways glare. She could take the conversation back to friendlier grounds, but something in the old woman's eyes was familiar...and brought back bad memories. "I can afford it, and I think you know it."
There was a moment of silence, and the old woman tilted forward, putting her cards on the table, as it were.
“Let me guess. You’re rich. You’re spoiled. You’re used to getting your way, with men and everything else.” The old woman gave a defiant look as she tilted her head back and appraised the well-dressed young woman sipping her martini before her. “You have a big empty house and you tell yourself you hate children.”
“I do.”
The woman snorted and continued as though she hadn’t heard. “Everything you have has been handed to you. You’ve never had a real job, and you’d have no idea what you’d do with yourself if everyone disappeared from the world tomorrow.”
Rosel stared back at the bartender with no small amount of anger. “We’re social creatures. People need people.” Her people especially, but there was no way the woman could know that.
“Never said we didn’t.”
The all-too-familiar feeling of being verbally boxed in crept up in Rosel’s gut. No. She wouldn’t lose, not this time. Calling back her haughty exterior, Rosel crossed her long legs and appraised the aging bartender, resting her cheek on one hand. “Now let me tell your fortune. You used to be beautiful, and got married off to a business owner you thought could take you higher in society.” Rosel’s eyes narrowed and watched intently for tells in the gray, wrinkled face. “You thought you were too good for where you grew up, everyone always said so, didn’t they? But he never went anywhere and then he got old, and so did you. Now you hate each other and he ditches you for younger, prettier whores, which is why you’re here. On a night where you’re clearly losing money by staying open, you hang around, trying to feel superior to a lovely young woman, who clearly knows she’s better than you.”
The pair stared at each other until a tell, a tiny twitch of the bartender’s eyebrow, gave it away. Rosel smiled triumphantly and stood, finishing her drink with a gulp. The bartender’s eyes stayed on the glass as Rosel dropped a few coins onto the table, enough for the drinks and an insultingly hefty tip.
“Nice chatting with you.”
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 4:52 pm
Solo, 506 words
Rosel stood silently in the shadows, peeking around the corner of the building. Painted nails clicked impatiently on the bricks. Any minute now, he’d show up. He was always so punctual; she liked that about him. Stern, intelligent, certainly good looking-
There! Always alone, which made things a lot easier. Today was the day, she was finally going to approach him. She almost didn’t want to, he was so beautiful to watch. Hair styled impeccably, lovely porcelain skin, such perfect stillness as he reads his Traansmutation homework… And he came from a family just as rich as hers, which was of course a plus. She liked how he bore himself, such…importance. She felt a kinship with it.
She knew his family name, but had never met him until she came to Makai for her schooling. He was precisely her age, so it was a bit odd that they’d never been introduced. Oh well, they were both here now and this was her chance…
Throwing her shoulders back, she approached, strutting up behind the bench. If he heard her school-regulation shoes tapping against the concrete, he didn’t show it. It wasn’t until she leaned over the back of the bench and looked at him directly that she shut his book and looked back. He seemed unsurprised to see her, and stared with the same flat look as he gave everyone else in the school. Disheartening, but Rosel chose to ignore it. He probably didn’t know who she was. People didn’t stare at the Shimalas that way.
”Hi. I’m Rosel. Rosel Shimala? We have Alchemy together.”
“Hm, yes. Hello. Did you need something?”
Though she was thrown a bit by the continuation of his cold demeanor, she kept her smile. ”No, I just wanted to say hi. I believe our families know each other. I thought maybe sometime we could…”
The cold stare turned quickly into a flat one. “My family knows everyone. And yes, the Shimalas too.”
“Oh…good.” This wasn’t going well at all. ”Well, I thought we could study together sometime-”
He sighed with exaggerated suffering and stood up. He was a full head taller than her and Rosel suddenly felt vulnerable. “Listen…” His voice was pitying as he slung his back over his shoulder. “I’m not going to coddle you and pretend I care about you and your two-bit family.” Rosel’s anger swelled and she clenched the wood of the bench. “We’re richer than you, and I don’t run with paupers.” Without waiting for a response, he spun on a heel and walked swiftly away.
Rosel stood at the bench in absolute shock. All that waiting…for him to blow her off. After all that, he was a p***k. She watched him until he turned the corner and was gone from her sight.
She’d spit on him. When she grew up and graduated into the world on her own, she’d spit on him and his entire family. Spinning fiercely, she burned a small scorch mark into the stones as she walked back into the shadows.
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2012 2:47 pm
Solo, 625 words
Rosel woke up late, as usual. The birds were singing outside, mothers had their children out and about, and most normal people were already at their daily employment. The outside world was more likely getting ready for lunch.
She tussled enough with her hair that she didn’t look too ridiculous, and headed down the stairwell. Her black silk pajamas whispered against her skin as her slippered feet padded along the marble floor. She was starving. First the cereal, the crunchy, fruity kind, as always. Then her fruit, bananas this week. And finally, the milk, fat free.
She chewed her cereal in the big armchair in the living room adjacent to the dining room, musing on the décor. Not for the first time, she felt the room was missing something. Like only a handful of rooms in her townhouse, it was furnished. Professionally done, of course, she had no interest in interior design. But it was missing something…Oh well. She was done with her cereal and her fruit, so she’d pick up on that thought another day.
Next, upstairs for a long, decadent bath. A mountain of bubbles, her fluffy loofa, and a lilac candle. After the bath, her gamut of moisturizers and crèmes. The last of which, her favorite, was dark chocolate based and filled the bathroom with its intoxicating scent. It was a bit strong at first, but by the time she actually saw another living soul, it would have faded to a hint on the breeze.
The next two hours were spent on her hair.
Dressed only in her housecoat, she fetched a granola bar from the kitchen, slowly chewing as she did her nails.
By the time she was finally put together, it was well into the late afternoon, nearly early evening. In the summers, since it got dark so late, she liked to go down to the docks and people-watch. Well, sailor-watch.
In a wide hat and sunglasses, she leaned on the railing to watch them mill about, loading and unloading crates, boxes, and all manner of other things. She liked to watch them, muscles rippling and stretching…as she did everyday, she guessed what each one’s heart tasted like as they passed.
It was finally getting dark, time to head to the tavern. She’d seen one on her way home last night that she wanted to try. Meandering across town, it was fully dark by the time she got there, hiding away her hat and sunglasses as she entered. She liked to switch bars as often as possible – the thought of being expected to show up somewhere bothered her. As it was, no familiar faces in the crowd, but she caught plenty of eyes as she walked in.
For a while, she just watched people from the end of the bar. The bartender was a harried looking woman, but she kept Rosel’s appletinis coming.
The whole place stunk of cigar smoke and sweat and dirt. Just her kind of dive. Within half an hour of her arrival, the place was already devolving into the rowdy, cutthroat bunch she loved to immerse herself in.
A drunk stumbled angrily away from a card table and Rosel saw her opening. She waited until he was fully out the door and his former companions were reshuffling before she sauntered over to the table. Exaggeratedly crossing her legs, she batted her eyelashes at the three. The one to her left answered first. “Aw, we’d hate to take your money, little miss-” He guffawed good-naturedly and his buddies joined in. Rosel only smiled and leaned forward, ignoring how they stared down her cleavage. Slipping the deck of cards from his hands, she expertly shuffled them and set them out for him to cut.
”Try me.”
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 7:06 pm
Solo, 510 words
It was a drizzling Tuesday morning when Rosel made the horrific discovery. She stood in front of her mirror, no shoes or stockings, in her favorite belted skirt. It was a lovely affair, black with fluorescent green designs that perfectly matched her eyes. The oversized belt was the perfect finishing touch to it all, and best of all, it fit her like a sexy glove.
Or, it used to.
Despondent, she poked her suddenly obvious muffintop that pudged out over the top of the belt. How could this have happened? When? For something so hard to get rid of, weight was so easily gained…
Granted, she’d stuck to Moonfall recently, so hadn’t traveled as much. All that walking usually kept her baby fat in check, so she didn’t really have to worry about what she ate or drank.
Did hearts have any calories? Maybe they did; she had consumed a few more of those in recent weeks than she usually indulged in.
Whatever the caloric intake of hearts, that dark chocolate cake last week probably outdid it. Those appletinis did too, and she had those far more often than cake or hearts. Maybe she should switch to a low-cal drink? She didn’t want to look like she was watching her weight though, that kind of high-maintenance vibe didn’t go over well with her prey.
New plan then – go somewhere far away. Like Makai! All those impressionable young students to snack on, and all that teenage angst made for delicious hearts. Not that she should indulge of course, students were very easily noticed missing.
Maybe Clarus Arbor, still pretty far and there were plenty of outlying farms for her to ingratiate herself into. All that open space to cross… Her feet would kill her, but it would burn calories. Maybe she’d see if she had the stamina to walk all the way there?
Pulling off the dress, she briefly considered settling back into her pajamas, but decided against it. A whole day inside when the sun was shining outside would drive her batty. A stroll down to the docks would cheer her up.
An hour later found her outside in her most matronly dress, though it likely wouldn’t be considered such by actual matrons. At any rate, it had enough frills to hide her jiggle. Not her usual style, but she’d blend in with the uptown crowd a little better. She wouldn’t be the only proper lady down by the docks admiring the show. Her hair was too nice for a hat, so she pulled out her parasol. No sense in getting a sunstroke while sweating off her pounds.
By the time she got down there, sweat she did, though her parasol mostly kept it off her face. Instead of staying in one spot to observe, she moved up and down the railing, passing children and other women admiring the view of the sailors. And what a wonderful view it was, but Rosel didn’t feel much like admiring, not when she could practically feel her waistline attempting to burst her seams…
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Posted: Tue May 01, 2012 7:22 pm
Solo, 560 words
Rosel felt the steady beat of her heart as she stared up at the ceiling. Not her own ceiling, plain and painted, the old one. That place again.
The patterns were suddenly flowers, but that didn’t make sense? They weren’t there before. No, they’re the flowers he got her that morning, to apologize for the night before. Not anything he’d done, no, for her argument with her.
The grandmother.
The lines of the flowers became her face, lined and immovable as a brick wall. A small stodgy thing, but as forceful as a brick wall. Rosel was boxed in, trapped by the moving brick. The very air around it was strong enough to push her away.
She forcefully turned away, pushing the oppressive air behind her. A petulant move, and she nearly lost her balance, but it worked.
Darkness around her now, sweet, sweet darkness. The shadows were always her friends. The better to hide in to strike back. She grew stronger there, and gathered her defenses. She could take her now-
The very thought brought pain, pressure on her chest as the darkness became oppressive. It shifted and changed. Even though she couldn’t see the edges, she knew the grandmother’s shadow had overtaken her own slice of the darkness. It made her feel small.
There were eyes out there, like stars, blinking, staring, laughing. They winked at her, restless demons living in the grandmother’s shadow. They hated Rosel, and she them. They grew strong now, in the oppressive dark that was no longer hers.
In a panic, a shout burst from her like a whip of sharp wind and they vanished. She could still feel their needle eyes, just outside of her vision.
She turned quickly to catch them, but saw only the grandmother, suddenly there. That it was just her was startling. She was in the hallway, that hallway, where it all went upside down.
There came the odd sensation of a bellyflop, like her first time flying, like she knew the ground was about to fall out from under her. But that didn’t make sense, she didn’t fly until later, didn’t she?
“You’ll never get a dime. I don’t care if he’s my grandson, he should have had better taste than…you.”
Those were the words. The very ones. As if through the third person, she saw the house around her fall to pieces. Poverty. Hunger. Ugly hair and cheap cotton. Herself as one of those pathetic old women desperate to hold onto her days of beauty with tap water potions.
No.
The jewels were gone. She was waking up with a bad back from a hard bed.
No no no no no-
She’d be a divorcee. And poor.
No.
She could take…Yes, take from the grandmother. Pull out every…last…breath…
Such sweetness, perfect rapture in the taste. It blossomed from her into a field of hot red and orange flowers. They shivered under the weight of her euphoria, faster and faster until they blended together in a wall of fire rising up against her.
No, how could they turn against her? How could anything ruin the perfection she felt? But still they rose, forming a great maw to swallow her whole-
Rosel woke up abruptly, sweating profusely. Heart pounding, she clasped both hands to her face and forced breath in and out of her lungs.
Only a dream.
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Posted: Sun May 06, 2012 7:40 am
Solo, 1,008 words
Rosel’s clothes were burnt. Not just the ones in her closet, but the ones on her very back. It hurt. Nothing to be done about it though, the pain helped her keep up her tearful and terrified act when all she wanted to do was crawl away and try to process everything that had happened. If she handled this right though – she’d be set for life. She knew for a fact that the old hag hadn’t changed her will yet. And if she remembered her pre-nup right…
“We all sorry for your loss, Mrs. -”
“Please, just Rosel. I’m not sure I can…hear his name just yet.” Bite the lip. Look away to hide near-tears. The cops ate it up.
“Of course. We’re going to set you up in a hotel, but we’re going to need you to come down to the station tomorrow for some more questioning.”
“I already told the other officer everything…”
“Yes, and I’m sorry about this, but it is a formality.”
The other cop, one she took an instant dislike to, piped up, a little more forceful than was really necessary for a suddenly widowed woman. “Unless you’d like to answer them now? There are a few outstanding issues.”
Rosel looked up at the smoldering house, still being doused with water to kill the last embers. A sudden fear took hold of her, and she hugged herself. What if they knew, what if this other cop knew something and was just going through the motions before he threw her in jail. She nearly flinched away from an arm thrown over her shoulders. It was the nice cop, giving the other one a dirty look.
“It’s ok, ma’am, you come down to the station tomorrow and we’ll get everything straightened out.”
She looked up at him, the very image of saddened relief, and pointedly ignored the other one. “Thank you, officer…”
“Beck. Ma’am.”
“And Officer Stein.”
Rosel graced the other cop with a look, but did her best to keep her irritation hidden. “Thank you, officers. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Slipping into a waiting taxi, she kept her face carefully neutral until she was safely in her hotel room. As she collapsed onto the bed and lazily kicked off her burnt clothes, she wasn’t sure whether she should laugh or cry.
The next day found her in a cheap, black, dress suit, sitting in a dank interrogation room. They hadn’t called it that, but Rosel had seen the cop shows; she knew what it was.
Officer Beck shuffled his notes and cast her an apologetic look as Officer Stein hovered by the window.
“Now, in your own words, tell us what happened.”
Rosel recrossed her legs and hugged her arms to herself. She’d decided to go for a ‘shaken but holding it together’ act today. A few shaky breaths and defensive body language would do it. The best lies had as much truth in them as possible, and she’d already spent the night settling on her story. “My…husband and I were getting ready for bed, when I ran into Grandmother in the hall. My husband was still in the bedroom. We, Grandmother and I, had had a bit of a tiff over dinner-”
“Several witnesses,” Officer Stein cut in, “Describe it as a lot more than a bit of a tiff. The way they tell it, it was a full-blown argument, complete with a few good threats over money.”
“Then the probably mentioned that it was a usual dinner. I won’t lie and say she and I ever got along, but I had…hoped…that she’d eventually warm up to me.”
“So you met her in the hallway after an argument over dinner.” Beck gently redirected. “What happened next?”
“Pretty much just picked up on where we left off after dinner. Insisting I married for money, and I wasn’t good enough for the family-”
“Hadn’t you though?” Stein cut in, yet again “Married for money, I mean. You married into a very wealthy family, with an extremely advantageous pre-nuptial agreement.”
At this, Rosel felt justified in getting defensive. “Maybe you hadn’t heard, but the Shimalas are wealthy on our own. I didn’t marry up, I married adjacent. Our parents negotiated the pre-nup.”
“We didn’t mean any offense, just covering all the bases.” Ah, Office Beck, so complacent. The Shimalas were wealthy but not that wealthy, and she wasn’t exactly living with her parents anymore. She would have to remember to thank them for the pre-nup though, that would probably end up being the best thing they ever did for her.
“So anyway,” Rosel heaved a sigh, “We were arguing. She was waving her cane around – she did that a lot – and she hit the sconce… and it fell into those ugly fake flowers she liked to have everywhere…” She added some trembling in her shoulders, not entirely fake. The source of the fire was a lie, but it was still far more than she had ever planned for. “And there was just suddenly fire. My husband came out at the noise and he was trying to stop it, but then it was on the walls and over the floor…and I just...panicked, I didn’t know what to do, and…” She was shaking fully now, and had to catch herself from getting too lost in her true emotions.
“That’s all, ma’am.” Beck closed his notebook. Stein remained by the window, thankfully quiet.
Rising, Rosel kept her shaken body language. “Thank you, officers.” She retained it until she made it back to the hotel, then cried in relief.
The next day, flowers from her parents and the newspaper arrived. The article proclaimed the case a tragic accident, with a kind quote from Beck. There was a photograph of her talk with the officers outside the wreckage of her former home, Stein still looking surly and suspicious. He wasn’t quoted in the article. Rosel cut out the article and kept it, and burned the flowers from her parents.
The papers from the lawyers with her inheritance came a week later.
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Posted: Sun May 13, 2012 8:26 am
Solo, 737 words
It was a warm summer night, with a bit of clouds covering the moon. Rosel had struck out, her prey had had a change of heart on their way to the alley and remembered his wife was at home waiting for him. He took off sobbing and apologizing.
Damn drunks.
Wandering slowly, Rosel looked into the shadows of the high buildings and listened to her heels clicking on pavement. A few people were out, but not many. She wouldn’t be eating any hearts tonight.
Suddenly, she stopped dead, and the abrupt movement caught his attention. How long had it been since she’d thought of him? He stared at her in surprise, long coat fluttering slightly in the night breeze.
“Mrs-”
“Miss, please. Shimala. I’ve gone back to my maiden name. Good to see you again, Officer Stein.”
Rosel saw the suspicion and how hard he tried to not let her see it. “Still hate to hear his family name?”
“No, I never hated to hear it, it just…hurt. Still kindof does.” Was he really going to make her have a conversation with him? This would have to be a hell of a performance.
“Even now? After all this time?”
“Yes.” She nodded and turned her head away, making a movement to walk by.
“Spending a night out?”
His question caught her off guard and she spun, the ribbons of her skirt swirling around her legs. “The night? No, just coming home.” She was suddenly very aware of the smell of cigars, beer, and sweat that accompanied her. “I like to go out sometimes, be around people.”
“To help you with your…grief?”
“The last stage of grief is acceptance, Officer Stein. I can’t be holding back my tears for the rest of my life.” Thank heaven and earth she actually glanced through that grief counseling pamphlet for acting ideas, instead of just tossing it.
“Of course, of course. I’m not saying you should.” He seemed at a loss for words, and Rosel took the opportunity to back up.
“I should be heading home then…”
“Home? Did you move back in with your parents?”
“No.” The denial came out a little more forceful than she intended and she looked away to backtrack herself. Children lived with their parents. The implication was insulting, but she saw where he was trying to come from. It was hard to tell if he was still suspicious, or if he just naturally looked…weasel-y. She didn’t want to think she was imprinting her own paranoia onto him. “I mean, no. My family and I aren’t that close. I have my own home now.” See? She was a perfectly well adjusted member of society.
“Yes, I saw that you’d bought a place. A bit ritzy, isn’t it? From the money you got from your husband.”
“My husband’s death in a terrible, tragic fire.” She glared openly at him. How dare he be suspicious of her perfect back story? “Shall I cover myself with the ashes of my old home and live a life of poverty because you’ll stop suspecting me?”
He turned to face her fully, feet planted. “You can’t deny that the situation doesn’t make you look good. A new marriage, a man set to inherit everything should his Grandmother die, a woman set to inherit everything her husband inherits should he die. And in a tragic accident, you miraculously survive, while both of the people who would need to die in order for you to get everything, are gone. You get everything.”
“Not everything. I lost my husband, officer. I lost a family that might have grown to love me after my own gave me away.”
“And that’s worth an awful lot to you, isn’t it?”
Rosel heard the borderline sarcasm and ignored it. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you had a happy childhood? Both parents? Loving, caring, the whole mess?”
“My father wasn’t in the picture.”
“Even so, your mother was loving?”
“Yes.”
“Then you will never have any idea what it’s like to have to look for a family to love you.”
That hurt, though she ignored the pain and sniffed derisively to push it away. The conversation was cutting a little to close. Without preamble, Rosel spun on one heel and walked away. When she turned the corner, she saw in her peripheral Officer Stein still standing under the streetlight, arms crossed and watching her retreat.
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Posted: Sun May 13, 2012 4:56 pm
Solo, 1,118 words
Rosel knew a couple really seedy places in Lumena, but was strangely in the mood for a tavern. She was hungry, as always, but figured she probably wouldn’t eat that night. She normally did her best not to dine on anything above lower class, since they drew the least attention if they were missing.
It was fresh after the scare of the Halloween Ball, and she hadn’t quite left town yet. The dynamic of the minds of the masses was fascinating. People were actually less frightened of witch eaters, in favor of wondering if there were more rogue reapers out there. Even though she knew witch eaters would be first on the chopping block if something happened again, she relished the change in attitude while it lasted.
The tavern was busy, though not as busy as she would have liked. There was no feeling like getting fully lost in a crowd, and that wouldn’t be happening tonight. As it was, she sidled up to the bar, took the seat on the end, and settled in for a night of people-watching. The middle crust weren’t nearly as interesting as the gutter rats of society, but maybe she’d get lucky.
Even now, the bartender was spreading gossip to a drunk witch a few seats down from her.
“Oh yea, the boys were ready to throw down. The chief just kept telling him to shove off, but he just kept going on and on… I mean, I feel for the guy, his ol’ lady was that one that psycho reaper got last? With the groceries and all?”
“Damn shame…”
“We all know it was that psycho who get her, am I right? But he just keeps going on and on about how witch eaters had to have been involved, and he knows one’s here in town…”
At this, Rosel discreetly perked up. They couldn’t have been talking about her, but she always pitied other witch eaters who tangled with the authorities and got caught.
The drunk looked around hazily. “There’s one here…?”
“Not right here! Here in Lumena. Says he’s been trailing the lass since some old case from way back. She killed her husband and got his inheritance or some story like that? Now apparently she’s…what’d he say…’leaving a trail of death, wherever she goes’… Bobby said he sounded like a right crazy himself.”
Goosebumps broke out all over Rosel’s arms and she felt the blood drain from her face.
“If’n she was a witch eater, why’d she bu-“ he burped loudly and leaned back. “Burn the house down?”
“I don’t know, man, I’m just telling you what Bobby said. She probably didn’t do it, Bobby said the captain said the case was closed. Open and shut accident.”
Officer Stein was in Lumena. And looking for her. And apparently gone nuttier than bird s**t.
Abruptly finishing her drink, Rosel pushed the glass back and stood up. Suddenly, Lumena didn’t seem like a good place for her to be. Doing her best to look casual, she accidentally caught a stare from across the room.
Stein. Here, in the tavern. Rosel felt her blood freeze, but flashed him a smile out of pure instinct. If he knew she knew he was there, it might force him to make an open move. With him being on the other side of the tavern, he may not have heard the bartender telling his story. Now that Rosel had seen his hand, she might have the advantage. Breaking the eye contact, she left quickly.
Moments after she exited the tavern into the night, she heard the door swing again behind her. Her gut told her it was Stein, but she didn’t turn to look. Suddenly becoming the hunted twisted her stomach into knots.
Where did this miserable excuse for a man find the audacity to stalk her? She was a witch eater! She did the hunting!
Turning abruptly down a side street, though not one too dark, she heard his footsteps hurry to kept up. She came out into the street on the other side and quickly crossed into another side street. She continued turning and switching, getting further away from the tavern and into the darker places, more cramped and dank.
Her hunting grounds.
The click of her heels kept him close, though now he had to be certain she knew he was following her. It was always better to catch than be caught, and when he turned one last time, he nearly ran into her when she stopped and turned to face him.
“Hello Officer Stein, keeping well.”
He was clearly thrown off guard and out of breath, but glared at her with open hated. He had days of stubble on his chin and it looked like he hadn’t slept for days. The story about his wife came back to Rosel, but she found it hard to muster any pity.
“Don’t bother with the pleasantries, Miss Shimala, you’re coming with me.”
“Oh am I now? Whatever for? Don’t tell me you’ve had a little crush on me all this time?”
“Shut up, you b***h. I know what you are, witch eater.”
Somehow hearing it out loud ran chills up her spine. She got found out. She’d been sloppy and she hadn’t covered her tracks properly. “Very good, Officer Stein. Come to take me into the station?”
“If I could kill you and get away with it, I would.”
“See, now that’s where we’re different.” Stein’s bloodshot eyes widened as she stepped forward. “I can kill you and I know I’ll get away with it.”
Icy wind blasted around her arms and exposed legs, but Rosel was prepared. In a moment, two bolts had struck his hands and the wind disappeared. Taking advantage of his weakened state, Rosel grabbed his lapels and swung him against the wall. He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps hit her with a backup spell or just curse her name, but all that exited was a heaving sigh as Rosel drew in a deep breath of his aura. She felt his heart pulsing and full, but it was tired, and slowing by the minute. Another deep breath and it was hers. Officer Stein went limp and slid to the dirty ground. Rosel rode the euphoria of his heart for a moment, and stepped back.
Done, she was free. He’d written his own suicide note with how he’d acted with the other officers, no one would be surprised that he’d turned up dead in the wrong part of town chasing down a supposed witch eater.
Just the same, Rosel walked quickly back to the hotel and made arrangements to get out of Lumena as soon as possible.
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Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2012 11:29 am
Solo, 550 words
“Keep your back straight.”
The whip of the ruler struck her back and Rosel grit her teeth against a snarl. Mother said her allowance would be cut off if she didn’t get good marks in her lady lessons. Every other subject, history, languages, even art could be stumbled through with enough finesse to satisfy the tutors. But these stupid lady lessons-
“Straight!”
The smack was harder this time and Rosel stumbled, the book on her head slipping to the floor.
“Now look what you’ve done, silly girl. Concentrate!” Madam Luciette swung down with the swift swan-like grace she always carried and snatched the book off the floor. “Ladies do not slouch when they walk.”
“I wasn’t slouching-”
“They also do not talk back.” Pinning Rosel with an angry stare, she thumped the book back onto her head. “Now walk.”
Gritting her teeth so hard she was sure they’d crack, Rosel put one foot in front of the other and slowly made it across the room. Madam Luciette hovered impatiently, ruler at the ready, but didn’t strike.
“There. Happy now?”
Madam Luciette’s response was another slap with the ruler, this time on the hip. “The book is only a tool to learn. Removing it from your head does not give you permission to swing your hip out like a bar maid. Back straight, body centered, shoulders back.”
Rosel struck the proper pose, nose wrinkled in anger. “I bet there are dozens of people in high society, that would agree this whole charade is ridiculous. Deep down, I’m sure everyone knows life would be much easier without all these…” She itched irritably at her training bustle. “Things.”
“You will not meet one person of standing who spares two thoughts on how it would be ‘easier’ if society did away with these notions.”
“What if I didn’t care? What if I didn’t even talk to anyone with standing? There’s other people out there, you know.”
“You were born into this world, and you will not embarrass me and your family by turning into a little hooligan for everyone to laugh at. I don’t care what that wretched art teacher of your says, appearances matter, and if you want to be anything in this world, you’d better learn to stop slouching!” This last word was punctuated by a slap on the back with the ruler.
Rosel straightened instinctively, and glowered at Madam Luciette. “What if I became a monk? I’m bet they wouldn’t laugh at me.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t. They would only take your fine dresses, your jewelry, shoes, and hats, and give them away to the homeless.” Rosel spun around in alarm, but Madam Luciette only nodded indifferently. “Oh yes, the homeless. You won’t need them for monkhood, and the ruffians of society could use some sprucing up, hm?”
“That’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not. Especially not when your parents have worked very hard to give you a good life and you don’t even want to straighten your back in public.”
The ring of the hourly bell cut off Rosel’s reply, and she pursed her lips as she looked up at the clock. When she looked back, Madam Luciette was already over by the bench, lifting her bag.
“Remember, Rosel,” she called behind her as she left. “In our society, appearance matters.”
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