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 Posted: Tue Nov 05, 2013 8:00 am
A Fluffy Find ~ Nano Baby Animal ~ 1042 wordsMalta had had a long night at the hospital, as usual. She always worked long and hard hours- it was just in her nature. She loved her job enough to balance out the stress of being overworked, and Poecileth was perfectly capable of taking care of their two manifests on her own for a while.Malta was happy. The twins were likely to be asleep by the time she got home, but that was fine. She would be up early in the morning to prepare breakfast for them, and get them ready for school, and play that video game that Mihiil had wanted. It was a full-forward no-quarter life, the sort that she had never thought she wanted. Yet she felt good living it. She (and Poe) had been worried that children would complicate it beyond her capacity to cope. Poe had asked her, over and over again, if she was sure she wanted to take on two high-maintenance manifests, if she was sure she didn't want to cut back her hours. She hadn't been sure- she was never sure about anything. She'd taken a vacation- her first in who knows how long- to help the twins settle in and see how it went. It was busy, taking care of them and managing their moods, but Malta had always liked busy challenges, and they were good kids overall. Still, she had found herself missing her work and when she returned she went back in with the same vigor as she always did. She tried cutting her hours back, but it made her feel empty, somehow, inside, so she went back to her usual schedule. Poecileth had been worried, but, between kids and work, Malta was happier than ever. A mewl shook her out of her warm, fuzzy fatigue and she squinted into the lamplit gutters of the street. There was a small shape, wriggling among the fall leaves and exotic pollen. She knelt, hoping it wasn't a rat. It was a teeny, tiny kitten. It mewled again and Malta's heart melted. She picked up the little thing and looked it over for injuries. Poor dear- it's eyes weren't even open. It looked uninjured and Malta sat down to gently stroke it, trying to figure out what, exactly, she was thinking. She had always loved small, cute things. When she was little, she had tried to rescue a nest of baby birds whose parents had bashed into the windows of her house. She had fed them mashed, hard-boiled chicken eggs for days. She'd watched them grow pinfeathers and flap their wings. Every morning, she had woken up to attend to the cheeping hoarde. One by one, though, they had died of sickness until only two remained. She had lavished care on those two, and they had become plump and fully grown. One day, she had come home from school to find them both gone. They had flown away, her parents had said, the mesh she had put over the nest hadn't been enough to keep them from freedom. She had been both proud and sad. A few days later, she had seen one of them eyeing her from a neighbor's branch, and she had cried. She'd been such a crybaby then, hadn't she. She rubbed the kitten's belly, smiling. She still was. The poor kitten. It was so cute. She wanted to bring it home and care for it until it grew up enough to leave the nest, too. The thing about cats was, though, that they stayed around. They didn't fly off into the sunset, they stayed with you forever or as they saw fit. And Malta already had someone like that in her life. She reached out for Poecileth's calm mind, that presence that was always there and always would be there. It was hard to remember Poecileth as a baby. It had been 14 years ago, but it felt like an eternity. They had always been together, it seemed, and they had only really known it when Poecileth's egg hatched and their eyes had met. Malta wasn't sure who took care of who. She had fed the growing hatchling, learning how to deal with a head partner under the watchful gaze of Poe's parents. She had cleaned Poecileth's growing wings and clipped her claws. But Poecileth had been so mature and kind and forgiving of her mistakes. Perhaps they had taken care of each other. Malta herself had been such a baby, confused and afraid of the world. They had helped each other grow up. Now that she thought back to those days, Malta realized that Poecileth had been adorable as well, with her big, expressive eyes and pudgy limbs and tail. Perhaps she, Malta, had been as well. She wasn't so sure there. She'd been fat and blotchy and unattractive, even as a small child, or had felt that way. She tucked the kitten into a glove that she had in her coat- forgotten and left there during winter. "Well, lets bring you home first and see what to do with you" she said to the little thing. She knew she at least needed to feed it before doing anything with it, and make sure it lived the night. But what to do? Could they keep a pet?
Poecileth's voice sounded distracted.
<... All right.>
Malta looked at the kitten's little face, feeling discouraged. Her partner had sounded less than enthused about having a kitten. There were other options- giving it to the veterinarians or a Shelter to take care of, or caring for it and giving it to a friend. But now that it had been implied that she couldn't keep it, she wanted to even more. It was such a cute little grey thing and she wanted to see it grow up big and strong... Just like she wanted to see Mihiil and Talaas grow up strong as well.
"Don't worry" she said to the sleeping fluff, "I'll convince her."
She stood up and continued home, holding the warm shape against her beating heart.
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Posted: Thu Nov 14, 2013 9:32 pm
Unjaded NANO Tears 846 wordsMalta managed to keep a straight face as she left the patient's room. She had told them that everything would be all right, she had told them that nothing was serious. They had needed to hear it. She would be telling their family a very different story. Her patient was dying, and their was nothing she- nor they- nor anybody could do to loosen death's hold. She managed to keep her face neutral all the way to the breakroom, though her lip began to quiver and her eyes began to hurt. She closed the door quietly behind her and lay down on the old couch, plunking down without grace. That poor person, that poor family. They had spent money and time and effort to send that patient to the hospital. Their love had been so great that they had been willing to pay any bill and do whatever it took to keep them alive. In the end, though, there was nothing that Dr. Malta could do. She was so powerless. Everybody was so powerless. She curled up, her shoes and outer clothes still on, and held herself tightly. The world was so cruel, so mean and nasty and unforgiving. She didn't understand why things were the way they were- she hadn't ever understood, not when she was 13, and not now as she approached 30. The world- no matter what world it was- was cruel and heartless and took away perfectly wonderful people in their prime. She had had to see dying patients before, she'd had to lie to them and shed had to tell them the hopeless truth. She'd dealt with many hopeful families and had spoken the words that slew that hope. It never stopped hurting, for any of them. She covered her eyes against the harsh light of fluorescence and truth, and felt her sleeve begin to wetten. She wiped her eyes with a hand and looked at the shiny wet on her chapped skin. Tears. How many had she shed? What use did they do? She sat up into a slump, her hair a mess. Why did she cry when other doctors here were completely unaffected. It couldn't be experience alone- some had started here after her. They had been upset too, and Malta had felt hopeful, but now they were calm and professional and perfect. She had nothing in common with those arrogant bearers of life and death. She was a doctor. She was in this to help people. And when people weren't helped, when she failed, it hurt as much as it always did, and- she feared- it always would. She would never get used to people under her care dying. She squeezed her eyes shut to try to keep her tears in. There was no use- no use at all- crying for that patient. They would have plenty of tears soon, all for them. It was no use. She covered her face with her hands and cried properly, her shoulders shuddering with sobs. She'd been a crybaby as long as she could remember. The slightest things could make her cry. Many had been annoyed by her meekness, including herself. She'd hated herself for crying. Her tears were wasted, precious, drops of water and salts. They did no good flowing like a river from her eyes. She'd wished, over and over again, that she would some how become someone who wasn't such a crybaby. She had never gotten her wish. She wiped her eyes and willed herself to calm down, looking over her rounds schedule. Two more patients she had failed, three still failures in progress, and one precious success. But soon that patient would be out and happy in the world and leave her with her failures as they died. Of course, it wasn't her fault. Poecileth liked to remind her that even she knew that it wasn't her fault. She couldn't control disease. She couldn't control how their bodies reacted. She had to do her best and roll the dice and hope everything worked as it should and turned out nice. And she did. It didn't make it hurt any less. She stood and went to the employees bathroom, washing her blotchy face and neatening up her untidy hair with tear-stained hands, swapping out her scrubs for cleaner, less tear-stained ones. Tears and pain or no, she still had a job to do, a job she loved. She supposed she cried over it because she loved it and cared about the people in it, but she would still have preferred not to cry at all. She walked towards the door to leave, but felt her lip quiver. She reached for Poecileth's mind to steady herself- she couldn't cry out there. Poecileth was busy, but she got a distracted mental caress from her lifelong companion and friend. she asked, taking a deep breath. A weak smile played over her face at the brush of assent, and she swallowed the tears.
Then she opened the door and went briskly back to work.
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Posted: Sun Nov 24, 2013 10:07 am
Disturbing - Malta- NANO Wrong - 1188 words
(trigger warnings: description of horrible death and injury. Technically detailed, but not too gorey, I hope)
Malta was glad for the breaks that meeting with Talaas afforded her. Ever since the nightmares had broken out and come back, she had only gotten busier. The nightmares were dangerous entities, and some- she hoped through no fault of their own- injured others. And the injuries that they gave... sometimes they were things that were beyond Malta's power to heal. She was but a medical practitioner, a doctor that used the power of medicines and knowledge to heal. There was only so much she could do for some of these people, and sometimes that was nothing at all. Sometimes, she could handle it. Sometimes, the victims of nightmare attacks were like any other victim- maimed, clawed, but able to survive with the right care and antibiotics.
But sometimes...
Malta practically threw herself into the empty break room, downing a cup of cold water from the water cooler as she fought the sick nausea building inside of her. Gasping at the icy cold of the water as it pushed back her nausea. It left behind a tiredness that she couldn't shake. She slumped on the old, ratty, comfortable couch, her head in her hands.
The patient had presented with lacerations on their arms, likely defensive wounds. They were panicked and delirious, but were not feverish. They were sedated and their wounds were treated as usual for lacerations- antibiotics, salve, and bandages to help them heal. Initially, they had thought that the delirium was because of the trauma of the attack.
The next day, though, the patient awoke in a panicked state again, screaming whenever anybody came near. He had attempted to rip out his bandages and had also clawed at the wall behind him with such force that by the time they could stop him his fingers were scraped raw. He was restrained and patched up and sent in for an MRI and a blood test, which showed that his brain was unusually active- the sort of thing you would see in a seizure patient, and his blood showed increased levels of the fear hormones typical for his brand of human. They gave him antianxiety medications, restrained him, and waited.
The next day, despite the care they had taken with his wounds, he appeared feverish, the wounds exuding a black, foul, sticky gunk instead of blood. The blood was there, behind the gunk as they peeled it away from him, but it didn't flow out anymore, red and raw against the tarry blackness that enveloped it and the bandage above it within moments of cleaning. Malta had scrubbed her hands thoroughly after attending to the man, until they were pink and sensitive under her gloves.
Today, he had woken up with a piercing scream, his eyes coated with a thin film of the gunk, his veins gorged and distended and darkened, his face an expression of horror that Malta could not comprehend. She wished that his horrible death had occurred on someone else's shift, that he was not one of her patients. Then she couldn't blame herself. She couldn't think about what she could have done differently or whether she should have done anything at all.
But no, it was on her shift, mercifully late in, when she was called into an emergency in his room, as he went into cardiac arrest. He had struggled against the restraints as they had tried to force his heart to beat. His wounds, even through their bandages, spattered the walls and floor with dark ooze, and, with one final shudder, his eyes had rolled up into his head and he had slumped, limply, to the bed. He had immediately begun to bloat and had been sealed inside a biodreamhazard bag for the dreamery to deal with. As she had signed off on the mans' death certificate, she had seen black fluid slosh against the clear window in the bag. It had been all she could do not to throw up then and there.
The dreamery had contacted them soon after, and she had held back her bile. They knew about the problem, had captured the culprit, and were sending over an antidote should any more victims present themselves.
No further details, and too late for the man. She knew his name. She knew his personal details. She always did, especially for patients that died on her watch.
It had been such a terrible way to go, so horribly wrong. Death was as often messy and terrible as it was peaceful and quiet, and she wasn't going to say death itself was wrong. It wasn't. At one point she would have said so, but in the end, she was killing bacteria- living things- to save other lives. Death was a part of life and, eventually, she had accepted it. She was close to accepting the deaths of people, too. It hurt to think about a life ending- a life with experiences, with thoughts, with connections and friends and family, but she was starting to understand that that, too, was not wrong. It was a part of life.
But when it happened so terribly, so unnaturally, she couldn't help but feel ill. What horrors had the man been attacked with, what had he seen in his delirium. What had happened that had caused him to drip black ooze? What had be become in the end? Dead. Unnecessarily, unnaturally so.
It was still the middle of her shift, and Malta knew that it would not be right to linger. There were patients to see and duties to attend to, especially if she was going to make her date with her ward.
She took a deep breath, feeling mostly better, and started out the door to get back into the swing of things. She opened the door and, just when she was going to step into the hallway, dreamery officials in suits walked by, carrying a biodream hazard bag. THE biodream hazard bag. She shut the door, her heart racing as she gasped for air that was suddenly hard to take in.
It had moved. She could have sworn that it had moved, that as it had passed her by it had twitched or jerked in a way that the carrying would not have allowed. The nausea threatened to take her again, and she took another cup of cold water cooler water, letting it linger on her tongue before searing down her throat.
She took a moment to calm down, reaching for Poecileth's presence in her mind.
Then she took out her phone and called Talaas, setting their appointment at the cafe for earlier. She knew Talaas didn't mind earlier- it was later that upset the manifest more.
Phone down, she took a deep breath again and, cloaked with some mental steel borrowed from her life partner, she strode out the door. She felt weak, but she had to do her job. She could not let this horrible event, this disgusting wrongness, change what she needed to do for other people, and what other people needed her to do for them. Otherwise, in a strange sense, it would have won. She could not allow that.
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Posted: Wed Nov 27, 2013 10:22 am
The Great Game – NANO GAME – Poecileth- 712 words
Life had always been a game to Poecileth, a complicated one full of strings to pull and connections to make and exploit. Life was a web, where one small event could have massive ramifications. She had understood how it all had worked in her egg and, from the moment she had hatched and found Malta, she had been playing this great game of move and countermove. It was abstract, dynamic, and beautiful.
But yet, the diplomat knew, it was so much more than that. life was a game, but Poecileth had always known that it more than something abstract: it effected real people- Real people with real lives. These people were effected by her and others actions. She never wanted to forget that fact.
The dragon knew too many who had forgotten this key element. They seemed blind to the sufferings of others, of the people caught in the web. They seemed to think of themselves as the only important ones, members of an exclusive club built on the lives of others.
That was not true. It simply wasn't. Those little people were not even aware they were in a great and amazing game. They were not aware how their life could be manipulated by people they barely knew, if at all. Poecileth had always felt the need to respect them- their innocence and their right to be left out of the affairs of others. She had always felt the need to protect them, too.
So often they were trod upon or thrown aside in the endless machinations of those aware of the great game. These hundreds of lives, these people, these complex stories all warped and destroyed by the uncaring 'elite'. Poecileth sought to do the opposite. She manipulated, yes. She played the great game with cunning and aplomb and she loved it. But she was there for the little people, the people who went about their lives unconcerned with the web of souls and motives that wrapped around them like a blanket. Her machinations were done with them in mind, for their benefit.
Sometimes, when she found occasion to muse about it, she found it interesting that she herself figured little into her own plans, or- rather- that she rarely sought to benefit at all from her own schemes. It was always other people - for their benefit, not hers. Not technically anyway, not in a tangible manner and certainly not relevant to the great game.
She did benefit though, it was not in a way that her colleagues would appreciate. It was, however, worth as much to her as money and perks and fame were to them; After a day of work, she felt good about herself. At the end of the day, there was no need for her to make excuses for her deeds, or make herself feel better about something she had done. Or, even, pretend that it was not happening at all. She didn't need to. Everything she did was intrinsically good, she felt, worthy of her partner.
Ah Malta. Malta was her friend, her confidant, the most precious one of all. Malta did not play the game, Malta had no wish to do so, and did not have the mind for it besides. She could never find it in her to manipulate people and survive in a political world. She was happy where she was, and happier still not to have to worry so much about the consequences of her actions. She saw people as people, no matter how jaded the doctors around her became. Poecileth treasured this about her Malta, this and so many other things. Her Malta was special, her personal touchstone, her constant reminder of the people behind the abstractions of negotiation and politics.
She was born to play the great game. She played the game for herself. She played the game for Malta. She played the game for all that she and Malta cared about, for the countless people of countless worlds that went through the Imaginarium complex. And, in the end, she liked the game. It was fun, full of endless drama and energy. She knew she would sooner cut off her own tail than stop participating.
But it was still people's lives, and she had a duty to them.
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Posted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 8:58 am
Lurks in Shadows - NANO Danger - Malta- 1539 words
Malta always worked late. She knew she shouldn't, and she knew that Talaas would be upset. She had promised to come home earlier to help the twins cook dinner for Poecileth- it was the dragon's birthday, after all. They had pretended it was a surprise, but she was certain that she had no secrets from her friend. Poe, she knew, would be a good sport about it and pretend to be surprised. If they ever got the dinner up.
She knew Poecileth wasn't home yet either, and she also knew that neither of them could help it. She snuggled into her warm coat in the chill darkness. Work got in the way, always. Someone would come in with serious injuries right as Malta was about to go off shift, and they would need her help, and she couldn't very well deny it to them- not when a life hung in the balance. Often, though, like today, they only needed her to go overtime a little bit, enough for the next shift to come in and scrub up.
But it was still late, and it was still dark. Usually, Poe would make it home, but work had been busy for her, too. It had been rough for her ever since the nightmares had been introduced to the city, and- though Malta wasn't sure it was the nightmare's fault, exactly- it had gotten rougher. They both hoped it would calm down soon.
She breathed onto her cold, pale hands, rubbing them together to warm them before venturing out into the darkness and making her way home.
She really needed to be more assertive. She needed to leave earlier and spend more time with their kids. She was a doctor- she knew the effect that absent parents and guardians had on children. She didn't want those sort of things to happen to the twins, especially since they were such delicate beings. Passion and Desire... Malta knew both emotions, but she hadn't realized how deeply they could be felt, not until she had met the twins that represented them. She needed to come home more often, not just leave things to the dragon. She resolved to start getting more time for herself and her charges, starting tomorrow. It would be good for her, and for them.
It was quiet at this time of night- later than most left work, but before the rush for the nocturnal shifts. The streets were palely lit, leaving inky shadows beyond them.
Malta was a creature of daylight. The world in the sun was her place to be. She couldn't help feeling a little scared in the dark, but with Poecileth's reassuring mind always available and having made the trip uneventfully almost every night over the course of nearly a year, she didn't feel so petrified anymore. She had learned to just sink into her own musings instead of focusing on the darkened world around her, or searching every shadow for danger.
A tap of shoe or a claw on pavement broke her from her thoughts and she felt the old terror return. She flinched and looked around. Nothing. It was nothing. She took a deep breath and breathed it out slowly, forcing calm onto herself like Poecileth's friend had recommended. There was nothing lurking in the darkness, there were no monsters out to get her. She was safe. She started moving forward again, trying to move at a calm, sedate pace. She was safe.
She nearly jumped out of her skin at another tap. It was clear and crisp in the quiet air, and it was definitely footsteps. She looked behind her, searching the shadows frantically even as she tried to calm her beating heart. But her affirmative mantra of 'its probably nothing' was jostled into silence as she saw movement, quick and furtive, in the deep shadows of the street. She turned back to her commute, trying to calm herself. The imaginarium complex had peoples of all sorts. Some of them were nocturnal or shadow-lurking. She'd never had problems with them before, and had even treated a few in the hospital. Surely, it was just one of those, minding its own business. She was in no danger. She repeated that phrase, over and over to herself.
The tapping sound echoed back to her again, closer than ever, and was followed by further tapping sounds from multiple directions. Her heart was pounding now, her breath coming fast. She whirled around, desperate to see something, anything, to at least know the origin of the sound. Eyes, looking right at her, reflected in the lamplit darkness before vanishing into the shadows with a swoosh of furtive movement. Several eyes. Malta turned forward again and began walking as fast as she could. She was being followed- who knew for what purpose, but she had to get home- she had to. She glanced back behind her to see black, predatory shapes skulking in the shadows behind her, their eyes trained on her. She moved faster, into a trot, her eyes wide and desperately seeking help or aid of any sort. None. The streets were quiet, and the law enforcement patrols were not in this area at the moment. The tapping was coming faster now, and was obvious. She was being chased by a pack of monsters- it was like a nightmare come true.
she asked frantically, her throat dry.
Poecileth, perceptive as ever, felt concerned,
She swallowed, feeling the beginnings of tears beginning to form as the tapping behind her intensified into a dull roar. She began to run, drawing on reserves of energy and strength she didn't know she had, desparate to find some public, lit building.
she screamed in her mind, unable to cry out. She could already feel the lactic acid building up in her body, her lungs struggling to keep up despite the burst from her adrenaline. She gasped for air, barely getting in enough air. She was not the most fit- her body still clung to a sizable amount of fat. She was not overweight, and she ate right, but she was not active in body, and, as she struggled to run, she regretted it.
"Please..." she gasped. She could swear that the pursuit was closer now, but she dared not look back. Little more than terror and momentum powered her forward now. She could see no suitable buildings, no help but the pale lights, and home was still so terribly far away.
Poecileth's voice in Malta's mind was urgent and strong. It was reassuring, but it did little. She could feel her arms and legs and lungs burning and painful. Adrenaline still raced in her system like a crackling arc of electrical current. She couldn't hear the footsteps behind her over the pounding of her own feet and of her straining heart. Her vision narrowed to the seemingly endless streetlamps before her, the gauntlet she would have to run.
She didn't see the dark alley until it gaped open, black and soulless, to her side. A shape darted from it, as if the darkness itself had come to life, and it struck her with a thud. Malta felt the hard ground knock the air out of her lungs, and was unable to scream as she fell.
The clattering came closer, and finally shadowy figures stood over her and chittered. Malta couldn't catch her breath, her terror paralyzing her as one of the figures reached out a shadowy grasper for her.
Her body, down to her tense sinews and bones, rattled with a resounding roar. The world seemed to shake and the dark creatures flinched. It was as if the roar had unstoppered some sort of pent up salvation. Soon there were shouts and Malta watched, still breathless, as uniformed shapes ran off the shadow people.
Suddenly, she was surrounded by friendly forms and flashing lights. It was dazzling and confusing.
the friendly, familiar voice seemed to free up her lungs. She took a deep breath as the doctor part of her personality took a brief inventory of her body. Achy, tired, scared, but...
"I'm all right..." she whispered, taking an offered hand. She had just stood up before she was roughly nuzzled by a familiar, soft, green muzzle.
The voice was anxious and insistent. Malta gave her friend a hug. "Im sure..." she said quietly, looking around. Suddenly, there were people on the formerly empty street. Some of the shadowy figures were being rounded up by the law enforcement, and next to the nice uniformed men and women and other things, they didn't seem so scary.
Poecileth, satisfied in her partner's safety, turned to the law people. she said, her telepathic voice sharp and angry, Malta blocked out the anger in her partner's voice and just breathed in the warm smell of dragon.
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Posted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 9:04 am
Nothing will ever Hurt you - Malta and Poecileth - 947 words
The familiar lights of home were soothing to Malta as she approached, hugging Poe's foreleg as they walked together. Poecileth's eyes still flashed with flecks of scared yellow and angry red.
Poecileth said to her human, her voice steady but slightly abashed,
"You didn't have to scare them with..." Malta was at a loss for words. Poecileth knew that her partner could never understand her world of influence and power and why she used it as she did.
Poecileth offered.
"... Yes." said Malta quietly, "It... wasn't their fault, Poe... They weren't there, thats all..."
Poecileth huffed. Sometimes, the power politics of the Dreamery was enough to give her a headache,
Malta laughed nervously. "But Poe, the people... I can't leave my job like that again..."
Poe knew that- she knew her human better than Malta knew herself. Malta's work was her life, and telling her to stay home was like telling her to stop her own heart. Poecileth supposed that those patients in the hospital were important, and in need of Malta's soft comforting touch and bedside manner. Normally, she would be all for them and their comfort, but she had had such a scare tonight.
She had been feeling Malta's unease that night, but they had both learned how to partition each other off from their minds. They were mind bonded, but that didnt meant that they needed to be in each others heads all the time. Poecileth certainly did not want Malta to know all the thoughts she had- they were not suitable for Malta's delicate mind-, and Malta needed some privacy, a time for her mind to be hers alone. It had been uncomfortable at first, but they had gotten used to it.
She was used to feeling nervousness from Malta, and had learned to keep it from affecting her own mood. But when the unease had grown, Poe should have known something was wrong. She should have left work immediately and shadowed Malta in the sky on her route home. But there had been no reason for Poe to worry, and she had wanted to clear one last task off of her plate before leaving.
She had regretted sending that last report when, not ten seconds after she had walked out the door and was preparing to fly home, she had heard Malta's cry for help tear through her bond. She prided herself on being calm and cool and collected, no matter what, but when she had felt Malta's terror, she had panicked. She had flown faster than she had ever flown before in her life, seeking her human. Poe was not a fit dragon, and she was sure she would feel it tomorrow, but the thought of losing Malta had put a fire under her tail. She'd telepathically notified a patrol, and had arrived just in time to see her human, on the ground, surrounded by... things, about to do gods only knew what to her. Poe might be a refined, pudgy, out of shape soft spoken emotion dragon, but she was still a dragon. She could roar when she had to. She'd been out of breath from it, but had covered it with her landing, and it had been worth it.
Nothing bad should ever happen to her Malta, nothing bad at all. She had made Malta a promise to protect her all those years ago when she had hatched out of her egg and met those frightened, tearstained eyes, and she intended to keep that promise.
<... well, either way, the twins are probably worried sick...> said Poecileth, almost gingerly. She didn't want to think about danger and jobs, not for a while anyway, preferably when Malta was asleep. She felt a flicker of apprehension from Malta, but thought nothing of it. Her human wanted to be the best guardian she could be to their charges, and Poe knew she feared worrying them as much as anything else.
They opened the door, Poecileth ducking her way inside.
"WELCOME HOME!!!" came the shout, as the two were surprised by a shower of colorful conffetti from above. As the pieces and papers and long ribbons drifted to the floor, Poecileth looked up to meet the eyes of the twin manifests, standing on the staircase looking down.
Malta started to laugh, a light, pure sound, and hugged Poecileth as the twins ran down the stairs. Mihiil went into the kitchen, and Poe was suddenly aware of the delicious smells that wafted through the house. Talas stood and stared at them, half an indignant glare and half a worried expression.
"Oh gosh, Tal, I'm so sorry! I know we were going to bake together and surprise her together, but something came up at work and ran into.. into some trouble and..." Poecileth mentally nuzzled Malta, puzzled as to why she was so apologetic. Had she and Talaas had one of their 'dates' today?
Then Mihiil brought out the cake, and Poecileth's eyes widened, whirling with brillant and surprised blues. Oh! Oh right! It was her birthday! Goodness, how could she have forgotten? The dragon blushed as a relieved Malta and the twins started into a rendition of Happy Birthday.
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Posted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 9:11 am
A Refreshing Birthday ~ NANO JOY ~ Poecileth ~728 words
They ate Poecileth's birthday dinner on a picnic blanket in the main central room that served as her lair: a roast poultry of some sort and a rich vanilla cake, with gravy and frosting on the side. Poecileth jokingly hoped that they wouldn't mix them up.
After the scare of that night, the dragon finally felt the icy tension inside her thaw in the presence of her family.
Talaas had made this cake and this bird with only Mihiil's assistance, and she had made it for Poecileth despite the setback of Malta's late shift and her attack. Both cake and bird were incredibly delicious- as to be expected of someone who frustratedly flipped through recipe books and the internet to find something they could do, and who always leapt into whatever she did headfirst.
Poecileth enjoyed the meal, and the feelings of the minds around her. Mihiil and Talaas were happy they were home, and also that she enjoyed what they had made. Malta had recovered from her ordeal of only hours before, and was enjoying the party. They all felt happy, and so she felt happy, and, for the first time in a very long time, Poecileth felt she could relax and be content.
Her job as a negotiator and politician was stressful. You had to see the worst in everybody, because that was what would drive them to an argument fierce or convoluted enough to need her. Simultaneously you had to somehow find and bring out their better natures in order to resolve the issue. Some days she wondered if those better natures were in there at all, but she had only to seek her bond to know that, somewhere beneath all the slime and selfishness, there was something there.
Oh Malta... her love and joy. So fragile and sweet, so in need of protection. Malta was enjoying the meal too, and telling happy hospital stories to them all. Poecileth looked at her lovingly. Poecileth and Malta had been meant for each other; one to support the other, one to raise the other, one to love the other. Whenever things were bad, Poecileth had only to imagine her Malta, and suddenly the universe would be ten times better, and there would be infinite hope for the people around her. Malta was her guiding light, and her joy.
And the twins... As an empathic dragon, she enjoyed their emotions. Normally, she could not sense the emotions of others as deeply as she did Malta's, but the twin's had such strong feelings that they came through even to Poecileth. They loved her, and had wanted to do something special for her. The dragon felt warm, almost floating.
She loved them all so dearly. As they launched into another rendition of 'Happy Birthday' and set up the candles for her to blow out while Malta fetched the presents from wherever she had hidden them, Poecileth closed her eyes, savoring the moment. She was the happiest she had been in a long time.
When it was long past time for the twins to go to bed, and all of them had yawned at least once at the 'table', Poecileth made a suggestion. she began cautiously,
She didn't want them to go away and leave her alone in her lair.
Malta hugged her friend, and the twins glanced at each other briefly, before giggling. Well, she was the birthday dragon! Sure!
They all got their pillows and blankets and snuggled into the large downstairs with the dragon, who turned off the main light. She cuddled them all close, remembering the days when she and Malta could just cuddle together, safe and warm in her mother's cave. They hadn't slept together in a long time, and as Poe felt Malta's head rest against her admittedly padded stomach, she felt a wave of happy nostalgia wash over her. The twins settled in at her tail, and she curled it around them all, letting her head rest at her foreleg. She gave Malta a nuzzle before giving herself up to sleep. Strained exhaustion had been transmuted to happy exhaustion, and, as she fell asleep to the lovely minds around her, she was happy- happy she had been born, happy that they were all there, and... just plain happy.
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Posted: Fri Dec 20, 2013 9:49 am
Poecileth – Adopting Abjad
598
Poecileth looked at the email she had received from the dreamery, her eyes glittering a worriedly. They needed guardians they could trust to adopt some of the nightmares and teach them to be civilized. Malta and Poecileth were such guardians, and Poecileth knew they were well suited to the daunting task. It was not an unexpected email, considering the recent and traumatic introduction of nightmares into the city. Poecileth was flattered to be so trusted and more than happy to help in any way she could. She was concerned about the prospect of raising an actual nightmare manifest.
Ever since the incident with the escaped nightmare, the city had changed. The streets were not as safe as they had once been, and there was an uneasy tension in the air, the sort that Poecileth was very sensitive to. She sheilded Malta from the worst of it, but there was only so much the dragon could do. Nightmare creatures were often damaging in the worst ways. There had been plenty of patients with horrible and strange injuries filling hospital beds before, but far more had graced the hospital’s beds since the nightmares had arrived, and it was a fight for Poecileth to keep them out of her human's head.
Poecileth knew that Malta was rarely afraid of manifests: for the most part, Malta felt they were harmless. Poecileth was willing to give the nightmares a chance to be harmless, too. But, Poecileth, knew Malta would be terrified: All the horrible nightmare-tainted injuries she had seen would come flooding back to haunt her, and Poecileth did not want that.
She sent off a reply before flying off to work.
While she was checking her personal email at work- she only had the one address because the whole concept of email was confuddling to her anyway- she saw that she had a reply from the Dreamery. She clicked on it with a careful tap of her claw, opening the file.
Dear Poecileth,
Thank you for your consideration in this matter. We do have a nightmare in need of a stable home who fits your criterion. We understand your desire to not care for a violent, overly dangerous, or powerful nightmare, and thank you for support in this matter. Enclosed are the Nightmare's personal details, including diet, powers, and other considerations. Take your time with the preparations, but we would prefer you to be ready in the next two weeks.
Thank you again.
-Dreamery staff
Poecileth closed her eyes for a moment, not sure if she was relieved or concerned at their answer.
She had said yes to their query. The manifest, nightmare or no, needed a home, and she and Malta did have both room and means to take care of another manifest. Poecileth could not leave them in the cold, as she was sure many others were doing out of fear of the dangerous nightmares.
She was afraid too.
However, her sense of empathy outweighed any caution she felt. She would make the preparations herself, and not involve Malta until later. She knew Malta wouldnt be able to stand up to her will, and, though she knew it was not exactly a kind thing to do, in the end it was for the best. The twins would have a friend (hopefully, she hadn't checked the personal file yet), Malta would face her fears, and Poecileth would have done a good deed, and the nightmare manifest would have a home. A win - win.
She opened the attachment - titled 'Data: Abjad - Nightmare' - and began to read the file.
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