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 Posted: Tue Nov 17, 2009 6:51 pm
Pre-Opening ContestSpecial delivery!
Adelle has appealed to Maximilian's usually frosty demeanor and brought him some much-needed holiday cheer! As a result, in the spirit of things, Prof. Y has selected this breed in particular for the next Prince-to-be.
He's very excited to see who will bribe and beg their way into gaining this special Christmas edition. The biophysicist can already smell the gold...
This contest will be free to enter and the winner will receive the special red-headed Christmas edition, a prince of their own, the first prince given out to the public and we all know that means earlier evolutions and greater bonds with the staff pets too, in case any of you were eying them![color=#000000]Foreword[/color][color=white] Maximilian, for the first time in more than a decade, has opened the gates of his home to the open public (or at least as open as it had been since his 18th birthday party). Normally quite stingy with his money, the scientist had reached deep into his inheritance money from his late mother and father to arrange for food, decorations, and a general repair job on the interior of the laboratory.
From the outside, the building looked like any other pollution-producing factory, but on the inside, there were possibly hundreds of different rooms and hallways that made the laboratory seem like some sort of grandiose mansion, with the majority of the experiments conducted underground in the hidden basement levels. These areas were strictly closed to the public, with only Adelle and Max possessing the correct prints to allow them access to the laboratories, where the bulk of research and progress on the Frog Prince project was made.
On the day of the banquet, Maximilian and Adelle waited at the head of the grand hall, overlooking the tables and chairs set up around the edges of the room, fine music traveling through the air, the collective heat from candles on tables canceling out the bitter cold that was blowing in through the open doors just beyond the corridor leading to the hall; the main entry of the building and where the first pet's owner would walk through today.
You are one of the small percentage of Saltaire's population that have received a letter from one of the city's best known scientists, Maximilian Y. He and his partner, Adelle X, have invited you to a grand Christmas banquet in his mansion where they assure you that only the highest class of the residents in Saltaire have been invited, to be served the finest food and wine, and at the end of the night, one of the guests will be promised an extra surprise, "la cerise sur le gâteau". Although there leaves no mention on the card what that prize will be, you already have a good idea you know what it is--rumors floating around the village suggest that Maximilian is finally releasing prototypes of his Princely project to the open public, and this makes you all the more eager to attend.
Placing your checkbook, wallet, purse, Gold Card on the desk, you scurry off to your bedroom to prepare for the banquet, filled with hopes of being the first to own a prince of your own.
You've spent a whole day of preparation, you look your best and you're hungry for more than just a meal, and you've finally arrived at the banquet. Guests are leaking into the hall and Maximilian is the first to greet you; He shakes you warmly by the hand, and it strikes you that you may never get this sort of opportunity to talk face-to-face with the owner of the labs for the entire duration of the party! You manage to lead him off to the side and charm him into talking a while, what do you two talk about and how are you ever going to convince him to give you a prince?
Prompt Two:
You're looking very dapper in that outfit, you stride into the grand hall full of confidence and certainty that you will be the one taking home the first prince when you notice the hostess of the event, Adelle, standing off to the side and watching her partner mingle and flirt with the guests. You decide to take this opportunity to approach her--she looks bored enough and could stand some interesting conversation. Perhaps that may even win her over, she is after all, partly responsible for tonight's decision. What do you two talk about and how do you gain her favour?
Prompt Three:
You arrive at the party, walking in through the doors and your eyes fall upon the hosts--they look busy enough with the other guests and you don't particularly want to intrude. Instead, you walk around the edges of the hall and slip into a empty corridor, curiousity driving you on further. You notice a door is ajar, a faint glow issuing from the small crack, and as you move to investigate it, you see that the light leads down a set of stairs, ones that you can't help but follow. When you've reached the bottom of quite a long descent, you marvel at your surroundings, staring at the array of frog specimens pinned to the wall and the interesting scientific instruments, most of which you don't even know the name of. Unfortunately, someone has followed you and they stand right behind you, one of the owners of their lab, raising an eyebrow at you and asking you what you're doing down here. You have to evade their scorn somehow, and perhaps your efforts will be the thing that allows you stand out from the crowd and walk out of the laboratories the new owner of a Prince; so what do you say to them?
Hints that will help you:
❖ Remember to include details of the prompt within your role-play as well as the response, so we can get a good initial idea of your character's personality, mental processes, etc.
❖ Make sure your character comes from one of the allied countries, check "world" to see what sort of nationality you could have for your character. (No Americans, please)
❖ Some sort of creative and yet somewhat pointlessly excessive inventions like Percy the Passing Bus Sign (see Max's first role-play post for more details) will make the world feel more real and funner for us to read; feel free to go all out in the creativity department! Just no floating cars or we kill you.
❖ Small references from the staff role-plays like little details that make your character fit into Saltaire better will be loved.
❖ Although it's not compulsory and you could probably write a good post without it anyways, reading the staff role-plays in Djubre's journal is recommended--for fun and education! Work for your Prince, dammit!
❖ Five seconds of spell-checking using MS Word costs you nothing, so do it.
❖ In particular, don't let us catch you misspelling names of the staff and especially the name of the village the RP is hosted in, that's just lazy.
❖ No word limit here but oh god please don't write a ridiculous amount. King may look forwards to reading twenty-page-long entries but Dju is also judging and he has a short attention span that you don't wanna trigger with a three-paragraph description of what your character is wearing.
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Posted: Tue Nov 17, 2009 6:52 pm
Shiningamisgirl, Prompt 3Name: Dominik Apolinarius
Age: 25
Origin: Poland
Looks: -visual aids are always nice!-
Outfit: Of course ones dress is of utmost importance, and certainly he being high class enough to be invited to such a fling wouldn't be walking around in rags..though I can almost see him in a cape or overly large scarf. Probably something warm and slimming, and with a big Russian type fuzzy hat! -nods-
When he'd received the invitation he'd been ecstatic, at least as ecstatic as a man in snow up to his knees could appear to be, considering said man rarely showed any sings of emotion other then contempt and worry on his face. A severe lack of smile lines marred his features -something which many a woman or prissy man who detested wrinkles would consider a good thing- and it seemed they'd all been transferred to his forehead, migrated north for warmer weather perhaps. One would question why he failed to have them removed, naturally Botox had evolved over the years and no longer made one look like a stroke victim..unless one actually happened to have a stroke, and then in such cases said victim would surely be unlucky enough for their face to stay stuck in whatever ungodly ugly pose it ended up in. One which no amount of botox, fat injections, or facial mask's would fix.
Dominik was sure that he at some point would come face to face with a stroke, and so he avoided such frivolity's as having perfect features.
---
Honestly he'd been rather surprised by how meek the invitation seemed to be. Hard paper, a red wax seal that kept the envelope firmly closed stamped with what one could assume was the sender of said invitations code of arms, or some such thing. Wrapped demurely with a green bow which was quickly unwrapped and discarded. There was no little pop-up add asking for endorsements, no singing hologram, no glowing 3D images of Santa, or snow men, or children, or annoying dancing skipping elves that skated across the ice when you tilted the image just right. Just darkly printed letter's on paper, something unique for its time.
--
Dominik knew he didn't have to walk outside to get the mail, specially not in this weather. That the mailbox (were its gears not too frozen for it to rev into the home and deposit said envelopes) or a set of hydrological air tubes (For just such cases when the mailbox did freeze up) that led directly into his home would deposit his mail for him one way or another. Whether he liked it or not he would always receive every piece of scrap, spam, junk mail, news adds, and utterly boring 'Fund us because were worth it' bit of ink ever put to paper. Because that was how his home worked...he'd once gone so far as to set his mailbox on fire..quite a show of sparks that'd brought..and on more then one occasion stop the mail tubes up with rocks..big, small, medium, he actually found that he rather liked the noise of them rattling around in there at times, battering and shredding whatever unfortunate slip of paper that happened to be waiting for him.
--
But this morning he just felt like it, after all what law said that a man couldn't collect his own mail? That some annoying contraption had to be created to do such menial tasks for him. In Dominik's opinion human society had gotten lazy. As he opened the letter he was surprised yet again to see that it was an invite to a 'Christmas Party' of all things, not that such things rarely happened, corporate places, big spenders, fat cats in their fat chairs with their fat pockets all seemed very fond of such extravagant parties. He was just rarely invited to them, and often because he had a lack of general cheery Christmas spirit in his life around said time of year, he usually declined whatever invites he did receive.
--
This one however seemed special in more ways then one, and the prospect of meeting certain people..people who had a hand in changing quite a few lives...well..it was intriguing enough to garner his attention. That and going to this event would save him from being dragged off to spend Christmas with his father at another of the man's oh so glorious Christmas bashes! At which he was sure his father would promptly become trashed on poor liquor and make a general a** of both of them well before the night was over. Yes going to Maxamillion's Party was the far more pleasant choice.
--
Stowing the envelope safely away as he trudged back through the falling snow to his home. Not an hour later and he was ready and gone, the car easily navigating itself through familiar terrain. There had been one point where all roads had been electronically mapped, computer powered cars traveling perfectly without accident or slip up on there pre-determined well mapped grid. Of course that had been then, and even now one sometimes needed to take over manually to safely maneuver those roads in which the circuitry had long since been destroyed or deteriorated to the point of malfunction.
--
Dominik arrived fashionably late, dressed in his Christmas best, only light bits of green and red adorning his outfit as he generally disliked flashy holiday colors. Greeted by an ever friendly, ever watching "Stan the Door Man" The robot that operated beneath the holographic skin probably not grinning like a loon as the image projected.
Sprouting constant greetings of merriment, bits of passage from old Christmas songs as it opened the door for you, all the while scanning you with those glowing red eyes. Camera's to ensure that those who introduced themselves were who they said they were and not impostors. All invitations needing to be presented to another man inside the main door as further proof that you were indeed meant to be there.
The place looked amazing once inside, completely different from the view out front, decked out to the max. Sweet fragrances wafting through the air, a thousand delicious smells seemed to saturate the mansion. Following the small stream of people to the main room where the hosts were, he was only slightly disappointed to find them busy, he knew there would be time later to get to know them, introduce himself properly. For the moment though he had a chance to further explore.
A room full of frogs had been the last thing he'd expected to find..Marvelous and a bit eerie at the same time, that a lab such as this would be hiding down in the basement, though he knew he should have been expecting it. His sudden amazement ruined as someone cleared their throat behind him. Stunned and frozen, mind running through a thousand different reasons for why he'd come down here.
Turning to find the annoyed glare on Max's face more then just a bit fearsome. Knowing that he only had moments in which to give the man a decent answer lest he be promptly thrown from the party, something his pride would never be able to take.
Honestly what could he say that would at least come close to sounding truthful..'I was horribly wasted upon coming here and hunted for a dark corner in which to hide until my dreadful hangover wore off'..noo..'I have no understanding of privacy and felt that since you invited me here I had every right to barge into whatever door that caught my interest'...noo...
"Excuse me..but..is that a Dumpy Tree Frog" he pointed to a small fat specimen in a jar. "I've never seen a living one naturally but I've seen them in books. It's been said that they used to make wonderful pets for first time reptile owners." he shrugged softly giving max a leveling stare.
The man just seemed to blink at him for a few moments, mouth forming a frown as he walked over to the jar and picked it up, rather firmly shoving it in my face as he explained what it truly was "No it is not simply a 'Dumpy tree frog' such a crude name for such a magnificent creature, it is The White’s Tree Frog, a Litoria caerulea. Not that I'd expect you to have any education on such things"
Dominik let him talk, would be more then glad to let him continue talking, let him be right. Chances were high that the scientist -this being his line of work- was right, after all Dominik had no considerable knowledge of frogs. He simply had a haphazard guess...
Deciding to stick with the line of conversation as it managed to keep him out of trouble, and further allowed him to evade answering the 'whys and reasons' of his trespassing. Dominik continued to ask Maxamillion about the different species that occupied the room, finally getting a chance to properly introduce himself to the man who seemed to share a slightly similar view on humanity as he did. Dominik found that he possibly even 'liked' the professor, or could at least stand to be in his company for more then a few moments which was more then he could say for most people he met.
The prize mentioned in the invitation was probably the last thing on Dominik's mind...second to last thing as he couldn't help but get in a few questions as to what it would be, dragging only minimal hints out of the dear professor who was determined to keep it a secret until the end of the night.
Either way..prize or no prize..Dominik was rather glad to have come to the party..
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Posted: Thu Dec 10, 2009 9:52 pm
Fem-inja, Prompt 2
Adjusting the sharp angles of the short, stark black strands that framed her face, the woman turned her head slightly, examining her profile. With a quick nod and small smile, the over all look was approved and she proceeded to place the final touches for this evening’s event. Sweeping her thumb over the screen of an electronic pad about the size of a deck of cards, she selected a color from a varied list and returned her attention to the mirror before her. A wave of aqua blue rippled over her silky tresses, starting at the roots and ending at her recently, trimmed tips.
Tali was seriously digging this new Moodlett Hair Modification and considered it one of the best assets in her cosmetic repertoire, which in retrospect was a rather extensive collection. As she combed her graceful fingers through her newly altered hair the up beat, electro-pop music blaring from her portable music player was interrupted by a rather annoying three-toned chime. Shortly after the notification, a hologram depicting a cheerful redheaded woman with a smile that seemed too big for her face displayed itself on the left most corner of Tali’s vanity table. “The Maximilian Christmas Banquet will begin in half an hour, Miss. Novikov.”
Tali nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be going down in a bit.” The words that spilled form her pink lips were marked with a slight inflection that signified Russian breeding and a lifestyle of refinery and beauty, the first a strange contrast to her obviously Asian descent. Chinese to be exact, nearly all of her features spoke of her ancestry. A Chinese mother and a Russian father would produce such a child, though the combination was not necessarily a bad one. Tali waved her hand in dismissal.
The tiny, luminescent woman then faded away, leaving nothing but the stained oak surface where she had been standing before. As if she had never appeared, the music presumed.
The Maximilian Christmas Banquet. Tali’s fingers involuntarily drifted to rest on the center of her abdomen then snapped away immediately, as if scolded for such an act. Instead, she shifted her hand to pick the invitation up off the table, to look at it for possibly the hundredth time since she had received it. Angled eyes the color of a toxic, violet sunset scanned the calligraphy printed on the page. Her fingertips were no longer pressed to her stomach, but Tali felt a burst of nervousness, hope, and fear radiate through it. This could be her only chance, these people…
Shaking her head and smiling as if the thought were ridiculous, Tali slid the invitation into a prismatic, blue clutch-purse that shifted to amethyst under the light of the fluorescent bulbs of the hotel’s extravagant vanity table. A lip brush coated with a similarly colored cosmetic product moved smoothly over each lip, lower then upper, with expert precision. That was the theme of her outfit tonight, after all, shimmering tones of purple and bright blue. On many people this would seem too gaudy, but Tali pulled the look off perfectly. Like a high fashion model on the runway, everything came together over her distinctive bone structure, petite figure, and pale, eastern skin.
Summed up in a single word, Tali was sexy. But not in an over bearing way, no certainly not. She was the subtle sensuality of a whisper in your ear, the rush you felt through your whole body from a sidelong glance, she was the woman at the bar who regarded you with those fiery, slanted eyes that dared you to even make contact. Some people considered her a tease, but Tali was classier than that, at least she liked to think so.
It wasn’t like Tali had never been intimate with anyone before, she contemplated the small number of lovers that had lay tangled in her sheets over past years as she coated her lashes in neon-enhanced sapphire mascara. But, Tali didn’t want to reduce herself to street regular. A hot commodity, that’s what she wanted to be.
After applying a few lines of black, liquid eyeliner and a couple brushes of shimmering, luminescent eye shadow, Tali stood to go slip into her party clothes: a strapless, straight-cut dress that cascaded to the floor, and a pair of strappy heels.
Both were constructed from a material that matched her color scheme, purple and turquoise swirled as her body created different highlights and shadows. From the way word was spreading on the street a good number of people would be attending this party. Tali had spent weeks planning this outfit to ensure that no one else would stand out as much as she did. It had to be unique, and she had ensured it would be by tracking sales of the seasonal colors and popular purchases to estimate what the other guests would be wearing. She would be different, but not to the point where she looked like a freak show. Just to the point where she would easily draw her hosts’ eyes. Altogether, Tali had commissioned the perfect ensemble.
Striding over to the nightstand beside the plush, queen sized hotel bed, Tali pressed the stop button on her player. The room grew still, the air filled with nothing but her nervous breaths. Tali inhaled then exhaled slowly in attempts to calm her erratic heart beat. She was terrified, which was strange, it was just a new merchandise right? Something to have that no one else did. Her very own, what had they called it again? Oh yes, Frog Prince, that was it. Tali pondered for a moment the level of illegality surrounding this event, but brushed the thought away quickly. That didn’t concern her, she just… she just needed this, for reasons that she couldn’t bring herself to admit.
“Miss. Novikov, the Banquet will begin shortly. Would you care for a drink to calm your nerves? Body temperature readings suggest that you are feeling distressed.”
“I’m fine thank you!” The slender woman snapped, brilliant eyes narrowing at the holographic woman in irritation. “You can go now.”
Bowing once again, the simulation disappeared, leaving Tali to her own thoughts. Maybe she should have taken that drink after all? No, she didn’t need it. She didn’t need any help. She would get this Frog Prince; there wasn’t a doubt in her mind.
She scooped up her clutch, adjusted her neon bangs in the mirror one last time, and strode towards the door, placing her hand firmly on the cool metal of the doorknob.
“This is it…” She murmured absently, amethyst eyes fixed where her hand rested.
The knob twisted and out she stepped, heels clicking steadily as she made her way down the hall. A satisfied smirk played on her lips as she saw where the eyes of the other party-goers rested. On her, on Tali Matka Novikov. As she entered the elevator and pressed the main lobby button, her confidence was bold and strong like stampeding bull. Tonight was her night, and no one could stop her.
But if that was the case, why did that empty feeling inside her only seem to ache more?
And with that, her certainties vanished. The symmetrical doors closed and, silently, the elevator began to sink. Tali’s stomach lurched slightly, but her face was as smooth as glass. The shadows, sharp and planar, slashed across her skin and she couldn’t help but feel her imperfection. It was like those daggers of negative light were cutting her open, exposing her, saying. “We know what you want Tali, but you can never have it.” Taunting, unrelenting.
The elevator moved on.
***
“Yeah babe, I can get you set up with this guy, he’s looking for talent like yours. You could make some real profit,” Obviously by ‘talent’, the sleazy older man in the ivory suit was referring to the proportions of her body. Curves a little less than the average standard graced her petite build, but Tali made up for this disadvantage with the way she carried her self. Poised, graceful, charismatic. In an odd way of putting it, Tali had the personality of at least a D.
“All I’m asking for is a little… favor. That’s all sweet heart.” He attempted to snake his arm around her shoulders, but Tali stepped strategically away. “Thank you for the offer, Sir,” She winked a single, violet eye at him. “But, I make my own way.” With a small flit of her fingers in farewell, and a devious smile, the Eurasian woman selected a bubbly, passion fruit drink off of a waiter’s tray and eased away.
“No interesting guests so far…” She mused to herself, a sip of the sweet alcoholic beverage following the almost whispered words. The statement was well backed up, considering her slightly outlandish, yet strikingly appealing get-up had drawn the attention many guests. “Just as planned.” She added silently to herself. The actual eating portion of the banquet had yet to take place, so the attendees were wandering about, sizing up their competition, wondering who would walk away that night with the grand prize. Had that been her seventeenth conversation or her eighteenth? Tali was loosing count, and the drinks weren’t helping.
Oh well, Not like their opinions mattered anyway, they weren’t going to be the ones handing out the prize. Tali’s slanted eyes scanned the crowds, searching for her hosts. After a few moments, she caught a glimpse as expected; Maximilian’s table was surrounded by a horde of prospects, all clamoring to get his attention. He looked bit agitated at the sheer number of people, and who wouldn’t be with all that racket, but the occasional flash of a pocket book, or of feminine skin, seemed to pique his interest and perk his mood up considerably.
That was obviously not the route to go, she’d never get anywhere if she just jumped into the crowd and tired to fight her way to him like a hopeless groupie. Not to mention women who more substantially endowed than her were already drawing his eye. Sighing, Tali glanced down at her chest, wondering for a moment if she should reconsider her stance on having a non-altered body.
Then, in the line of her peripheral vision, Tali spied her target.
The woman was perched on a barstool, legs tucked under the elevated surface of a counter, near the entrance of the circular room, taking sizeable swallows from a champagne glass. Her hair was cut sharply around her face with stray strands of violet cascading down around her high cheekbones. A black, lacy gown hugged her generous curves and trailed to the floor beneath her sheer, stocking clad feet. The shoes, Tali noted, were sitting on top of the bar, stiletto heels casting reflections in the polished surface of the bar. The woman finished off the bubbling liquid, honeyed amber eyes shooting a glance at the calamity that surrounded the good Doctor Y. A small shake of her head, drawn lips parting in a sigh, the second party host was bored.
Tali smiled like a gambler catching the coins from the slot machine in their hat, pleased that they had pressed that last coin in despite previous losses. She sat next to Madame Adelle, taking the seat to her right.
“You’re feet hurt?” Tali questioned nonchalantly. She tapped the wood finish with a neon nail to get the bartender’s attention, then motioned simply in Adelle’s direction to request the same beverage.
“Not at all,” Came Adelle’s flippant response. “Just thought the bar top looked a little lonely.”
Tali reached down, pulling off one shoe, then the other. She placed them adjacent Adelle’s own, graciously taking the champagne that the bartender offered afterwards. The two women smiled at one another, touching their glasses together in mutuality.
“So, which guest are you, hon?” An intrigued smile tugged at the corners of Adelle’s mouth, pleased to finally have some company.
“Tali,” She confirmed, returning the smile genuinely “Tali Matka Novikov.” It was a bit of a mouthful, but the sharp consonants and rounded vowels fell pleasantly from ones lips. Adelle nodded as in approval, propping her chin on delicate, white-gloved hand.
They chatted idly for a bit, about the weather, about fashion, even a few giggles over a clever joke or play of words. But intelligence flashed behind both amber and amethyst eyes as the banter cycled back and forth, Adelle was eager to hear her offer, her appeal, and false pretenses weren’t really Tali’s forte.
“See this?” The fair-skinned woman took a few strands of teal hair between her fingertips. “I helped my father design it.” Tali pulled the selection pad from her purse and handed it her purple-haired bar mate. “Go, on.” She encouraged. “Pick any color.”
After a few moments of scanning through the options, Adelle tapped her index finger to a mint green hue. As the current passed through her hair, Tali briefly explained the process.
“First, you deep condition your hair with a special enzyme rich formula every night for about a week. Then you use something similar to a hair dye that contains a type of static generating fluid. The fluid bonds to your follicles so it coats your hair like natural oils.” Adelle was listening intently, experimenting with a few different tones. A wave of strobe-flashing orange soon overtook the previous selection. “The enzyme responds to electric currents, different frequencies and intensities make it turn different colors. So, when you press that,” She pointed to the control just as Adelle chose to decorate Tali’s locks with rainbow highlights. “Is sends a signal to the fluid to generate the appropriate amount of electricity.”
Adelle scrolled through a few more options until she was content and then handed it back to its owner. “How long does it last?” A very scientist-like response, Tali had expected no less.
“It all depends on the person’s hair consistency really. Like for me,” She brushed her fingers through her hair as she reverted it back to aqua. “I would probably have to redo it in about three years. People with thicker hair might have to do it every other year.” Adelle seemed satisfied with the response. Tali took this as an incentive to continue.
“I help my father make little gizmos like this all the time. For me it’s just a hobby to earn a little pocket change, he’s the one that owns the company.” Seeing that her pitch had caught the woman’s attention, she moved on with renewed enthusiasm. “He owns a company in China that specializes in electronics and transportation technology. The government employs him to design navigationally aware planes, boats, vehicles.” Tali leaned back in her chair, a knowing smile curving her blue-painted lips. “I never have to take the bus. I have a different car for each day of the week.”
“Is that so?” Adelle looked into her glass for a moment, elegant brows creased thoughtfully.
“I don’t mean to pry, but, I’ve heard rumors that you’re companion,” The train of her purple gown whisked along the marble floor with a soft sigh of fabric on cool stone as she made a sweeping gesture, indicating to the blonde man in the center of the party’s focus. “Has a strong distaste for public transportation. Do you feel the same Miss. Adelle?” Her voice was smooth as silk, words well oiled with a natural, charismatic appeal.
A thoughtful expression displayed on the woman’s golden-eyed face. She crossed her legs, left over right, and rested her elbow on the elevated knee, chin cradled in her hand. A silence settled over the two. Tali waited patiently, expectantly, hoping that she would receive some indication that her offer would be taken into consideration. The candlelight from the room flickered in her mauve eyes, like fire on a cool autumn night.
“Why do you want the prince?” Adelle asked suddenly, shifting back in her seat, uncrossing her shapely legs.
Tali had of course planned ahead for this conversation, considering every path their conversation could take. This had been one of the options she had prepared for most thoroughly. The response Tali had in her arsenal was perfect, mysterious, charming, tempting, and clever. it would leave the perfect impression on her host and was perfectly capable of being relayed to the other.
But, Tali didn’t give this prepared response to the intense woman with the violet hair and the amber eyes that sat across from her. No, the words that slipped from her mouth and pierced the air were the absolute last words she would have wanted to say.
“I can’t have children.”
If there was silence between them before, it increase two fold now. Tali sat, shocked, horrified. Desperately, she tried to think of a way to repair the damage she must have done, but nothing came to mind. This was catastrophic. Her chances were ruined. The doctors would think this was a guilt trip, of course they would, and there was no way they’d pick her now.
“Why”
Tali blinked in surprise, expecting a more scalding reply. “R-radiation,” She fumbled. “Uh, I was exposed to too much radiation when I was little.” My gosh, she sounded so stupid, but Adelle pressed on.
“What about adoption?”
This was a question Tali had asked herself many times before. “I’m not really sure. It just… It just doesn’t feel right.” She shook her head, knowing this must sound like a lie, a fabrication to get what she wanted. “Not that adoption isn’t a good choice, I just- I don’t know…”
Once again, they sat in silence. Tali was expecting a roll of the eyes, or a condescending smirk, but neither came. Instead her bar-mate simply stated,” It’s almost time to start eating, I’d find a seat if I were you.” She stood, smiling gently at the petite Asian girl and took her own black shoes off the bar. “I enjoyed our chat.” Adelle added before leaving to take her spot at Maximilian’s table.
Stunned, Tali remained seated for a moment, wondering if Adelle’s reaction to her brazen statement should be taken in a positive light, or negative. Repressing the urge to run from the banquet hall, Tali placed her heels back on her tiny feet. The soles of her shoes made a tiny clacking noise as they touched the floor. Tali adjusted the material of her dress to ensure there were not folds or creases across her body. Without thinking she found an empty table and sat, not caring who would join later.
The man from before took a seat next to her, taking up his flirty banter as if she had never rejected him. But she couldn’t hear him.
“We know what you want Tali, but you can never have it.”
The shadows had won tonight.
Just like they always did.
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Posted: Mon Dec 14, 2009 10:32 am
Cosmoses, Prompt 3
When Marcel's mother swept into his room, he was prepared.
He knew what day it was, and even if he'd forgotten in a fit of slippery memory, she had the invitation curled between her heavily-jewelled fingers. He held himself with hands clawed into his sleeves, smiled pallidly and told her he felt unwell. She reached up, pressed coral nails to his cheek and told him not to be foolish.
That was how Marcel found himself sliding from the interior of a black 'rental car,' ravishing in the finery that was so popular in their increasingly narrow circle. War was bad for business after all – the mark of an aristocrat was apparently spending money faster than you could make it. He glanced down briefly at the cloth of his mantle; it wasn't that Marcel wasn't aware of his family's wealth, but when sitting in the study in his silken pyjamas, it was harder to recall they cost a year's worth of bread.
He allowed his outer garment to be taken – just as well since his hands were incompliant with the cold. Beneath it he wore a white, high-collared shirt that fastened at a diagonal across his torso, crisply ironed dress pants and a black blazer over the top. It was moderate enough to pass for 'an attractive man in a suit' at a distance, but the buttons and tailoring gave the expense away. His mother said the clothes made the man; perhaps that was why each stitch screamed 'there is nothing wrong with me.'
It was immediately warmer inside the building - something Marcel hadn't guessed from its stony facade, the plumes of nebulous smoke - and he breathed a soft exhalation as blood returned to his toes. Originally from Poland, frost was a fact of life, but being accustomed didn't make the weather any more pleasant to endure. He peeled off his gloves, lingering just beyond the threshold of what appeared to be a banquet hall. Light and music gave the room a polished ambience. Overeager socialites buzzed like flies around their hosts. Marcel recognised many faces, but not theirs; a man and a woman who wore the same smile of secrecy. Adelle and Maximilian, no doubt, and if the invitees were moths, the scientists would have to be a spider and a flame.
Marcel turned away from the sight. He knew what was expected of him - make an entrance, charm the lady, and if she proved unamenable, switch his attentions to the blonde; perhaps some coercion of the hard and soft variety, all in the name of reclaiming his family's former glory – but however well Marcel played political games, he had no interest in it. Call it what you like: lack of ambition, slovenliness – real power was one thing; what was the point in squandering a fortune on yet another meaningless status symbol?
...And people wondered why he was so easily driven to melodrama. Life as Marcel Bielski was not without its pitfalls. Unfairly handsome, frighteningly capable when he bothered to apply himself, and the apple of his mother's roving, mechanical eyes, but there was too much time and nothing to fill it with and his father's legacy was failing, and said father was dead.
He laughed then, the kind of laugh that couldn't quite be chalked up to inbreeding or eccentricity, and it was probably a lucky thing that the corridor was empty. He'd wandered well away from the lifeblood of the party by now, and though there were no signs or red ropes to mark the area private, it was never proper etiquette to stray unaccompanied in someone's home.
But the stairs he came upon beckoned like a sanctuary and Marcel was tired of playing the nobleman. Other people had mothers to talk them down; his own coaxed him onto a pedestal and left him there. Designer shoes clacked loudly in the silence, and then he was reaching bottom. Perhaps more than literally, he thought, taking in the dingy floor and rows of... frogs? Splayed with limbs unnaturally stretched, their eyes were bulbous and dewy in the artificial glow. Just like -
He stepped back unconsciously, his body having more sense than his brain. Jerked as he collided with a warm – shape – who? "Maximilian." The name tumbled out unbidden and Marcel bit his tongue before he could make a fool of himself. He had never been a clumsy fencer and he wasn't about to start now. A hand brushed against the knot of the scientist's cravat before finding its way to a cream-coloured sleeve, ostensibly to steady himself, and though copper filled Marcel's mouth, his smile was honey-sweet.
He knew, by this man's reputation, that he would be safer topside amongst the claws and jaws of the social elite. There were rumours Maximilian was unmoved by anything that did not glitter, and Marcel could believe it. Saltaire abhorred capitalists, but even here, coin would keep you fed, and out of jail. There was no such thing as a person who didn't want to live well.
Excuses felt trite on his lips, so he gave none, releasing Maximilian with an apologetic flutter of lashes.
"My name is Marcel Bielski," he said softly, with the painstaking grammar of one who learned with a ruler at their knuckles. "Please have my apologies for the intrusion." Inwardly, he felt there was no need for elaboration. Maximilian had invited them. He had to know they were all after the same thing. He continued anyway, since the grave had already been dug.
"If you will permit me to say so, I think you must have been promised many things tonight. The Bielski family would remind you that when we aid those who are needier, we do so not because it is right, but because they are more grateful."
He dipped his head and slipped out, fists clenched from the burn to his pride.
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Posted: Wed Dec 23, 2009 4:31 pm
Carhop Calvalier, Prompt 1
“Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Amen." A final tracing of the cross upon his body, and the copper toned man stood up from his kneeling position, placing a black cap on the golden fleece like hair passed down to him though his father. The cap completed his Sunday finest, the best clothes he could afford. The outfit was composed of a slightly tattered black suit coat, a button up shirt colored off white, tan trousers, black dress shoes, a black scarf, and his black cap. Every piece had been bought at discount prices from run down little shops with seedy, plump little store owners whose wives always seemed to be cooking something that smelled oddly like cats and soap.
His own rusty shack smelled no better, but the rent was cheap enough and the landlord didn’t care that Wilhelm was a religious man. Bibles lined the fake wood bookshelf, along with prayer journals and devotional books. A special part of the bookshelf was reserved for the works of Mr. C. S. Lewis, the only bookends Wil owned used to signify the space. A metal crucifix was hung above the door on a rusty nail, and a faded rosary hung in his living quarters. Several paintings depicting the crucifixion were hung around the house, as well as a cheap recopy of The Last Supper. The heater was broken, and the air conditioning was the draft that blew in though the hole in the roof. Wilhelm’s mismatched pieces of furniture were rough on the skin, as well as the eyes. The clothing that hung from old wire hangers in the closet looked to be made of the same material as the upholstery on the couch. It was the most his preacher’s salary could afford, and he called it home. Wilhelm was not the type to complain about God’s blessings.
His pocket bible was placed into his left breast pocket, followed by the invitation to the banquet hosted by Professor Y and Madame X at the mansion like laboratory of Professor Y. Wilhelm could only guess as to why he would be part of “the finest of Saltaire”, he had little money and a reputation to match. The only plausible explanation he could find was that his father, William Weber the German engineer, had been a former colleague of Professor Y, or that his mother, the Egyptian celebrity Annipe Weber, had been a good friend of Madame X. He would need to ask the hosts if they had known his parents when he arrived at the estate.
Stepping out of the house, Wilhelm’s nostrils respiratory system was assaulted by the foul pollution that reigned as king in the orange nuclear sky, causing him to have a fit of heaving coughs. The few passersby that were still out in the streets simply went on their way, pulling their scarves tighter to help ignore their consciences. Wilhelm wanted to scold these people for ignoring courtesy, reprimand them for being so rude and brutish. How had society come to this point? Wilhelm knew the answer; society had forsaken God. Or had God forsaken them society…?
------
God bless the man who had invented Percy, the cheery little hologram who hailed busses like kind gentlemen used to do for mothers with children. Percy, if he were human, would make quite the excellent friend; he was compassionate, kind, selfless, and serving; all the qualities of the church members Wilhelm would like to preach to - preaching to the choir, as the saying went. He’d like to have a choir at his church; unfortunately, nuclear winter had killed off his choir, along with the faith of his flock. Saltaire was a Godless place, and Wilhelm decided it was his mission to bring God to these people like Paul did for the Gentiles.
Prime examples of the Godlessness of Saltaire were the holographic women parading around on the billboards clad in scandalous clothing, and posing in suggestive ways. They were constantly on the prowl; different suggestive phrases appeared in speech bubbles above them every thirty seconds. Jessica was the name of each of these blonde haired, blue eyed, voluptuous women, seducing men into buying useless products such as Benny the Shoe Shining Robot: a ploy by the government to raise more money for their Godforsaken war. Wilhelm had seen Bennies before; they were all pieces of scrap that caught your shoes on fire more often than they actually polished them.
The bus came to a screeching halt at Wilhelm’s destination, the beginning of a mountain road that led to Professor Maximillian’s laboratory. Wilhelm watched as the bus drove off, emitting more pollution to the already terrible atmosphere. The more Wilhelm thought about it, it seemed more and more likely that God had truly turned his back on mankind. Wilhelm couldn’t blame him if he had; Wilhelm would do the same if he were in God’s shoes. Humanity had forsaken the blessings God had given it, taking them as cosmic coincidences and solar mishaps. Only when everything went wrong did humanity want to believe there was a God, and once everything was fine again they stopped believing. Society had always been such, proven by the Old Testament’s tales of the nation of Israel seeking God and ignoring him soon after. Society itself had researched if the Bibles accounts were true, and it found that the Bible was historically accurate. Of course, society still refused to believe the religious aspects of the Bible, claiming that every prophet was a loon, and Jesus was just some whack job who thought he could make blind people see. Come to think of it, most of the guests at the party were most likely of the same mentality. God help him…
------
Wilhelm immediately felt underdressed when he saw the rest of the guests gathered about in the grand hall of the estate. His tattered coat looked like garbage compared to the fine suits and gowns of the other guests, his hair looked unkempt when seen next to the groomed brunette and ebony locks of the other guests.
“Why does God bless the ungodly?” Wilhelm pondered, looking around the hall. He hadn’t seen any of these faces at his church before, the only church in Saltaire. Maybe tonight was his night to be blessed though; maybe tonight his faith would be rewarded with a frog prince. If it were so, Wilhelm would use the prince to further God’s kingdom in Saltaire. Many would be astounded by the child, and Wilhelm would tell the masses that only by being a Godly person could one obtain such a wonderful gift. He would teach the child to help the helpless, feed the hungry, build houses for those without shelter, and other Godly things. He’d have the child read the Bible, lead singing at the church. Oh the things he could do to benefit society with a prince.
“Greetings friend, I welcome you to my home. You are Wilhelm, if I’m not mistaken?” The voice came from the blonde haired, blue eyed man who owned the property, Maximillian Y. He was a middle aged man, a scientist, and more recently an entrepreneur. His handshake was firm, his smile seemed genuine, and he seemed inviting enough.
“Yes, I’m Wilhelm Weber. May I ask why I’m considered to be of Saltaire’s finest?” Wilhelm shook Y’s hand with equal force, smiling with equal kindness. After all, if he were to gain a prince to use for God’s service, he’d need to be as kind as possible to the man giving the prince away.
“Why, my friend, you are the only man with enough bravery to attempt to bring religion to this savage place, my colleague and I commend you for that.” The answer was simple, simpler that Wilhelm had imagined. Perhaps Maximillian wasn’t as bad as Wilhelm thought he would be.
“Well, Maximillian, I have some things I’d like to talk to you about. Have you ever heard the tale of Job? It’s a fascinating story really…” Wilhelm talked fast, leading Maximillian away from the crowd and off to the side of the Grand Hall, telling the professor all about Job and God’s argument, then followed the tale up with the story of Jonah and the Whale. He had selected both the stories for one reason; he knew he could relate them to himself and the professor. Wilhelm thanked God for the divine inspiration that made him pick the two tales.
“And so you see, you and I are like Job and Jonah. We’ve both been victims of nuclear winter, but God has given us what we need to survive. This is just a test Professor, a trial. God may tell us to obey the Government, but he also tells us to stand up and rebel against it when it does wrong. And that’s why I admire you professor. These Princes you and Madame X will be selling, it’s the perfect way to undermine the Government. And if you had an ally in the church, well, you’d have another foothold. Now, I’ll leave you to mingle with you other guests Professor, but I pray you think of my proposition. God bless you sir.”
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Posted: Wed Dec 23, 2009 6:15 pm
Tohopekaliga, Prompt 3
(( Here we have my entry... my character is Kārlis Zariņš (That is Kar-liss Za-rinysh), future historian extraordinaire (or something). Oddly, his name appears in PMs correctly, but not in forum posts... I would like to comment that I don't like controlling someone else's character as I do to some extent here, but I saw no way around it. Enjoy. biggrin ))
Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. That's how the old saying goes, so it is not at all surprising to find that humanity didn't learn from the past, and history did indeed repeat itself--and got worse.
Kārlis Zariņš was a historian, of sorts. He and his family were from the country of Latvia, although he had moved to England a decade earlier. It was a bit farther from the Russians, certainly, but it still wasn't the greatest of places for many reasons.
This particular day, the Latvian was waiting at a bus stop, staring impassively at the holographic attendant while wondering if it would be worth the trouble to mess with it. It wasn't, of course. Kārlis wasn't in the mood, anyway. It was raining, and he had reports that needed submitting. They still needed writing, truly, but he was working on that as he reflected on the perpetually grey weather.
Still, this was home, and he'd live with it.
Being a historian was not exactly what it had been for centuries. Sure, there were some who were the old, fat academics standing in front of a lecture hall postulating self-importantly about the possible motivations behind the long dead. Kārlis was in fact in his late 20s, kept up with exercise, and had reasonable eating habits, so he was in fairly good shape.
Simply keeping track of history--real history, not the stuff written by governments and (in the past, and the West) the media--was really more about keeping data, though. Lots of data.
Data like who exactly made those stupid bus sign/attendants. Most of it didn't matter, but somebody still needed to track it, and note trends.
It actually was Kārlis' job to compile "history" and submit reports about it, as well as disseminating knowledge when ordered to do so. He got paid just the same as anyone else, but it had a few nice fringe benefits. High on the list was he tended to have more and better computers than others. Everyone had computers, sure, and they were far more capable than anyone could have ever dreamed when they were first invented centuries before...but he had rare commodities like neural-interface computers (which he kept very carefully firewalled from government nets; having people prying in his brain was a bit much).
A couple of words (in the wrong language) about how dull all this was found its way into Kārlis' report, and he had to order the computer to remove it just as the bus rolled up. Why he had to physically show up to present his weekly reports about current trends in micro-blog opinion and money exchange was completely beyond him (he could just as easily have the papers get deposited on his superior's desk as he scratched his side...and did from time to time), but this was what policy demanded, so he was spending time out in the cold rain.
Later that evening there would be something interesting to go do, though--the town's local mad scientist (there was always at least one, it kept things interesting) had some kind of party he was 'quietly' putting forward, and Kārlis was happy to attend.
Well, happy might have been too strong a word. Willing to see what was going on, and possibly gain a few side customers in the business of making computers do marvelous things (like "accidentally" failing to flag excessive spending for instance).
~~
Once at the monolithic office building, Kārlis stopped at the door so security could stare at his badge for a moment. "You can go in, Mr. Zarins."
Kārlis nodded slightly and mumbled as he passed, "It's Zariņš," as if the security guard could hear him, or even care. That's what he got for keeping his oddly foreign name in a country terrible at unusual words.
His report was finished seconds before he had it printed off to hand-deliver to the report-receiver, who accepted it with an impassive nod. Scarcely three words were said to him in the entire building. It was eerie, overall, but he didn't care.
~~
That evening, Kārlis was in a rather good mood. He'd had his good suit cleaned the day before, and it still fit him. That's always heartening...as even with his side incomes, it was still troublesome to get a good suit these days.
He looked himself over in the mirror before heading out. His black pants and jacket looked flawless (there were actually a few threads out of place--but that's hard to spot), his white collared shirt was crisp, and his green tie was straight. Kārlis sported a short, practical cut to his smooth light brown hair, and he needed no glasses for his bright green eyes. After a few moments he was satisfied, and set out to this party.
~~
At the party, Kārlis spent a while making rounds through the people, schmoozing up a bit, to see who (among the ones he didn't already do anything for) could use his services. At one point, a young woman asked him, "So, what is it, exactly, you do? It sounds rather like a spy to me."
"I suppose," he replied with a small smile, and allowed the faint accent that he had from his Baltic origins to add a bit of color to his words, "That you could call me a spy, yes." As he continued, he suppressed the accent again, and resumed with more of an upper class English accent. "But I don't spy on anything secret, and I don't go driving around in fancy cars, or sneaking through alleyways to assassinate...enemy spies." He laughed lightly at that. "No, mostly I just listen, read...make note of what I need to, and try to keep a handle on what is real--and what is propaganda." Propaganda was certainly not in short supply.
Most of the rest of the conversation was fairly uninteresting. Eventually, Kārlis slipped away from most of the crowd into a quiet hallway. He sighed, a small champagne glass still in hand. Quiet at last. As he sipped his drink, he noticed there was light coming out of the side of one of the doors down the hall, and it was clearly not a part of the party. Curiosity got the better of him (he was nothing if not curious...it was his job to know, after all), and he sauntered down the hall and in through the door.
"Well now," he said quietly to no one at all after going down a small staircase into what was obviously part of the esteemed professor's lab. There were numerous instruments all around, and a series of different frog specimens, none of which Kārlis could identify without consulting his computer...which he didn't care to do at that point.
As he leaned toward an interesting looking device for a closer look, a small cough caught his attention and he whirled around to face the door he came in to. Standing there with a look of mild annoyance was the party's host himself, Maximilian. "And just what are you doing down here?" the professor inquired evenly.
"Ah," Kārlis replied with a friendly smile. "I needed some quiet for a bit," he explained, "and I happened to notice an open door," he swept the hand containing his now-empty champagne glass to indicate the room. "Quite a fascinating little collection you have down here, my good Professor. You really should show it to more people, I'm sure they would be quite intrigued by it."
Kārlis was answered with a nonplussed frown, and so he went on. "Ah, how rude of me...I believe we know each other by reputation only." He extended his hand for a shake. "I am Kārlis Zariņš, historian, and it is a pleasure to meet you."
After a moment's hesitation, the two men shook hands. "A pleasure," Maximilian replied simply. "I trust your...histories don't need to be too detailed about what you see here?"
"Oh, certainly not," Kārlis replied dismissively. "There's no reason for the, ah, powers that be to be too keenly aware of the world around them. Oh no...they really only hear what they need to, which is certainly not about what you collect in your spare time nor do they need to hear of the interesting rumors about science experiments that have been circulating around." He shook his head in emphasis and concluded seriously, "No reason at all."
"That's good to know," came the smooth reply. "Now, if you would," Maximilian gestured toward the stairway back up, and left the rest of his thought heavily implied.
"Ah, yes, of course...my apologies if I stepped outside my bounds," Kārlis replied with a smile as he went back to the stairs and preceeded the professor back up. "A lovely party, Professor, and I thank you for having me."
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Posted: Wed Dec 23, 2009 6:24 pm
Cooro the Mute Wuff, Prompt 3
The first thing I thought about when I walked through the doors to the ‘party’ was how fancy-pantsy this place was. I could see gold curtains draped from large marble columns, and swooping ropes in an intricate design. From my old country, Hungary, we did not show off such splendor, rather, only the rich did. Rich, I was not, but I was a ‘general’ in the old army, until shrapnel from a test explosive hit me in the throat, tearing a hole right through and shredding my vocal cords. A Leader cannot lead without being able to command his men.
But let’s get back to the party, shall we? So, here I am, standing in my old combat uniform, a rapier at my side, and looking lost as heck. I can see the hosts of the party from where I stand near the entrance, chatting on pleasantly with other guests who seem to be as high caliber as they are, so… I feel as if it’s not my place to interrupt them. Instead, I opt to walk around the outside of the ‘ball room’ area, smiling at other guests. None of whom I recognized. Introductions were not my specialty, especially since sign language seemed to have slowly died throughout this new world…
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a door, slightly ajar, with a dim light shining though. This just seemed like something I shouldn’t be involved in, after all, this is not my factory, nor am I a trusted individual, at this time. Yet it felt as if I was slowly being pulled inside. I find myself closing the door behind me, and facing a winding staircase going down towards what I assume is a basement. The lower I travel, the damper the air becomes, and soon enough, I feel small beads of condensation, not sweat, clinging to my forehead. Who needs a basement as deep as this anyway? Sure, food was scare during this time, but basements are only supposed to be so deep.
The scene before me was just as if I had stepped into the scene out of a 20th century novel. So long ago, dreams of science-fiction filled the youth’s with hope and excitement, just to have their dreams shattered by selfish political reasons. It was disastrous... But I had no choice but to follow my leader’s orders. I shook my head, clearing it of such depressing thoughts, and looked around once more.
Frogs? I’ve heard of collections of butterflies before, but frogs? Wow.. Rich people certainly have delightfully weird tastes in Collections. But I suppose, so do I. After all, the whole reason I came to this party was to gain the opportunity to own a Prince! A prince~ it would be a dream come true!
I explored further into the laboratory, examining the different species. There was only one I recognized, and that was the frogs that could be found in my homeland. Yes, I was a bit of a nerd, but sometimes, that came in handy in war. To know which kind you could use in emergencies. Though... I do think I’ll keep that information to myself. I wouldn’t want to scare a prince away.
Someone behind me cleared their throat, and I jumped 3 feet in the air! It seemed to be a lab tech, an assistant to Mr. X. I fumbled a bit with the scarf around my neck, not knowing how I should explain myself… Fortunately for me, there was a white board in the corner. On it were multiple formulas with details on the makeup of the princes.
Crap! I must look like a spy!! This was not good… Not good at all!!! My chances of earning a prince were probably dashed in half!!
I quickly moved to the board, flipping over to the blank side and quickly scribbled my explanation on the board. It explained EVERYTHING. Probably much more than he should have. The tech just glared at me, taking me by the arm. Crap crap crapity crap. I feel as if I’ve made a huge fool of myself. I scanned the area around me, wondering if there was any way to distract this tech... But there was nothing. I resigned to my fate and allowed myself to be lead upstairs.
Each step felt like a mile to me. And all this happened because of boredom! You couldn’t expect me to act civilized at parties with bigwigs like this! I am a man of action.
It sees though... NO action can save me now.
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Posted: Wed Dec 23, 2009 11:05 pm
lilstalkerrr, Prompt 1
Like a princess in a fairytale, Amir lived a life of luxury but lacked contact with anyone other than the staff appointed to cook, clean, care for, and spoil him. He spent his time watching old movies and dreaming about what it would be like to live in such a happy, war-free time. His mother and father would be home with him, he'd likely have a sibling or two to spend time with, and he'd definitely have a party to go to or plan every weekend. The deep tan on his skin would not contrast so heavily with the other residents, and everyone would have hair as healthy as his luscious long locks of ebony. Unfortunately, that would never be possible in Amir's lifetime, but at least the war was over and he was allowed topside. His first adventure left him mystified (and in a heap of trouble), and his caretakers were not looking forward to sending the self-titled prince to a noble gathering in place of his father. Everyone agreed that this was a good opportunity for Amir to mingle, and it was always rude to turn down an invitation.
As Amir traveled in his family's FLYING CAR retro robo-horse and carriage, eagerly awaiting the companionship of anyone other than blood relatives and caretakers, he thought about how long he had spent confined to one place. Up until a month ago, he didn't know there was a functioning world around him that wasn't ravaged by the war on a daily basis. His father was a prominent scientist in the field and was rarely home since is claim to fame, biometal1, played a pivotal role in human, building, and vehicle protection and he was challenged to develop more uses for the compacted nanobots. His mother—well, he didn't quite know what his mother did, but she was just a hologram on holidays and birthdays like his father. Infuriated couldn't begin to define the blazing hazel eyes Amir stared down his parents with for sheltering him from the world for his entire life, but seeing the dismal conditions outside the carriage window made him a bit more understanding.
Even the most rural of cities in the movies Amir watched during his captivity had more color and life than these streets of Saltaire. It was caked with dirty slush and almost every building looked as if it hadn't seen a renovation since it was built. He dreamed for a moment; just how beautiful would this city be now, in the 32nd century, if humans had set their pride aside and lived peacefully. A quick stir from beside him ripped him from his thoughts; his caretaker, Ammon, was giving his hand a squeeze that tightened with every nanosecond the boy ignored him. Being the defiant young heir that he was, Amir ignored the touch and waited for his Egyptian companion's heavily accented voice to slice through the cool, crisp air.
Ammon cleared his throat, “Young master, we are about to reach the ball. Our scouts checked out the building and although they were not allowed inside, infrared and ultrasounds detected no dangers above the ground floor. However, you are not allowed to go off alone with any of the guests or go below the ground floor. You are to take the Sitterbot2 with you, so I'll be able to see and hear every single thing that you do. I will be controlling it from here so you won't even have a chance to escape if you try to do anything foolish. You have to represent your family proudly and learn that you aren't the only spoiled heir around Saltaire, so don't try anything,” he said, picking up pace toward the end and putting a nuclear bomb-like emphasis on the final word.
The cheeky prince just smiled, placed a tan, well manicured hand on the other man's shoulder and purred, “Ammon, my friend, you worry too much! The war is over and even my parents are letting me out, go find yourself an oxygen bar and loosen up—my treat!”
Ammon just shook his head and frowned as he spoke sternly. “The oxygen provided in this carriage is better than any bar around here could serve,” he knocked on the window. “Impenetrable, and the climate control system automatically corrects levels when the doors open and close. No heavy air will be getting in my lungs simply from staying in the carriage. Now, back to business Amir, I'm not your friend today, I'm your protector. I'm the one who will get skinned alive and then dumped across the border if you get hurt! So please, for my sake, 'my friend'--”
Amir's index finger quickly tapped the prominently yapping jaw of his caretaker.“Tut, tut! You just said we're 'not friends today' so you better come up with a different way to state your case, Ammon.”
The carriage pulled to a stop and there wasn't another peep from Ammon. He simply got comfortable in his seat, flipped open the Sitterbot container and handed Amir the device. There was a sequence of beeps and whirs before the sphere lit up and lifted out of the young man's hands. A few more clicks on the console and the visual feed from the bot came up on the man's screen, “Remember, don't try anything. Don't make any enemies. BEHAVE. And, most importantly, have fun and don't you dare mimic anything you read in that filthy book you picked up the first time you went topside. Contrary to what you have read, noble parties are not at all sexual.”
Amir's lips puckered into a pout which would have fooled most eyes, but Ammon recognized the slightly upturned corners and knew that whatever was about to escape those lips wasn't going to be good. “So you say, but you've been taking care of me all my life and you were taken into my family before you reached puberty. Do you even know what sex is? I do. It's what nobles do to have fun; I've seen the pamphlets sent to me offering high class companions, women or men.”
“Those pamphlets were marriage proposals and whether I've had sex or not is none of your business. Go get inside or you will be late! Nobles are to arrive promptly as scheduled or they will miss their introduction and have to re-schedule their entrance. It's bad for your image and you barely have one! Shoo, shoo!” Ammon flicked the Sitterbot controllers and extended two spindly arms to poke at Amir until he started moving.
Amir gave a parting wave, rapped the Sitterbot with his knuckles just because he could, and exited the carriage. He took one step and looked down at the dirty, slushy ground under his feet. He took another step and another, looking like a sled dog whose owners forced him to wear booties for the first time. “You again, huh? 'Slush', the remnants of snow. Oh how I loathe you,” the young man seethed. He kicked off the excess mush that had found its way to the top of his shoe and and aimed for the stairs to the entrance.. Beautiful copper and wood detailing lined the door-frame so elegantly that it was as if it was crafted recently, and the carpet he finally reached was obviously made of a high quality material based on the cloud-like cushion it exhibited. With a quick semi-nervous glance to the softball-sized Sitterbot, Amir lifted his posture, pulled out his invitation, and stepped inside.
The gush of warm air soothed him to the core, relieving some of Amir's anxiousness. The young heir was used to old India-like temperatures since his father was able to afford an artificial sun and atmosphere creator for his underground garden, where he spent most of his time. This pricey device also explained his and Ammon's beautifully tanned skin, which stood out like a sore thumb compared to many of the pale faces he saw when he first explored Saltaire. It was a good sign that the party was not going to leave him chilled in any way.
Mixed up in the hubbub and glamor, Amir barely noticed the guard taking his invitation and announcing his name until it was given back to him. A brow lifted as he smugly looked around and took his very first stroll down into the crowd—which wasn't nearly as exciting as old debutant movies made it seem. The young man chose not to let his spirits lower, and he started scouting out the guests. First, he must find the mysterious man who sent the invitation, then the hostess, and finally the most affluent-looking guest aside from himself. Although the invitation was meant for his father, Amir was going to use it to his full potential and hopefully gain him some of his own business partners.
Amir felt a tug on his neck and looked down to see the Sitterbot fixing his crimson tie. He wasn't pleased in the slightest to be taken care of by a bot in front of such a large crowd, but he determined a crooked tie would probably be worse. With Ammon at the controls, the bot moved in behind the young man and fixed the golden hairpiece that held back his waist-length, jet black hair. Apparently it was about to fall, but from all the movies that the sheltered young prince has seen, long hair falling is the epitome of sexy and he wouldn't have cared. His right hand lifted to swat away the Sitterbot and after another quick look around the room, he found his first target: Professor Maximilian Y.
Much to his surprise, the older man looked a lot better than he was expecting: only a few wrinkles, not a sign of gray in his golden mane, and moderately healthy looking skin. Generally when Amir thought of scientists, he pictured worn-out, balding, graying, wrinkly, old men who have spent their entire lives working for their side of the war. Even his father matched the description, although he was one of the luckier scientists who actually developed a multi-billion gold product rather than worked to produce it. Snapping back to reality, he firmly shook the other man's hand with a warm smile.
“Hello, I am Amir Singh attending in place of my father, Abhay Singh, since he's off aiding the reconstruction efforts in our homeland of India. Your party looks divine. I must say, so far this is the best party I have ever attended.” Ammon rolled his eyes from the carriage and muttered something about flattery and stretching the truth.
From the expensive leather shoes to the top of the line, brand name suit with all the fancy fixings (not to mention the real gold, diamond encrusted hairpiece), Maximilian knew very well that his plan to milk the nobles for all they're worth was off to a great start. He squeezed the younger man's hand and tried not to smirk at how easy this would be, “Greetings, my name is Professor Maximilian Y, a pleasure to meet you Mr. Singh. Thank you for your compliments and I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“I will, thank you.” Amir's lips curved upwards, “So this surprise you have in store for us, any chance I can bribe you for a peek? There have been some rumors that I'd like to confirm if at all possible.” He smoothed down his tie, “If you aren't aware, my father was the scientist who developed biometal and we're very well off in the gold department. And before you jump to conclusions about me being a simple heir, this is my invention.”
An elegant hand lifted and Amir performed a Vanna White-like showcasing the Sitterbot, “Sent into war-ravaged areas to search for our fallen soldiers as well as to detect bombs and such without putting anyone in danger.”
“I am impressed by your accomplishments but, and excuse me if this sounds rude, isn't that a Sitterbot?” Maximilian turned his head to the side and quizzically looked over the contraption, seeing no difference between it and the one following a little noble girl he saw the other day.
Amir waved his hand again, visibly annoyed. “My father made some modifications and marketed it a different way since the war ended right after I sent him the prototype. However~ you didn't answer my question, professor: may I have a peek?”
The scientist chuckled lightly and picked up two glasses of bubbly, handing one to Amir and continuing. “Ah, you noticed my deflection? Well, Mr. Singh, there will be no hints about tonight's surprise, but your offer does interest me. Although only the winner of the prototype will be required to pay anything tonight, we do have other projects in the works that need funding. I was not as lucky as your father was and this,” he extended his arms to indicate the lavish party, “was almost scraping the bottom of my reserves.”
The young man frowned and put a concerned hand on Max's shoulder, “We can't have a genius like you be forced go give up before he's really had the chance to shine, let me help.” Amir set down the champagne flute and pulled out his hairpiece, letting his perfectly silky hair loose down his back. “Your partner is a woman, correct? From what I hear from my father, women are the backbone of any good man. This was the first time I used this hairpiece, so it's still in perfect condition. Why not give this to her? My caretaker forbids me from carrying money around, but I can wire funds to you when I return home.”
Maxi's face went pale for a moment as he fondled the hairpiece. Pure gold and real diamonds, nothing artificial about this beautiful piece of workmanship at all. He was amazed at how naïve and giving Amir was, but then again, nobles were an interesting breed. “Thank you very much for your gift, you are correct, my partner is a female.” He chuckled, “You're also correct in that she's a vital member in this project and I'm sure she'll adore this. I can't say that you'll receive anything in return for your donation, but we'll certainly be inviting you to our future parties.”
Back in the carriage, Ammon was leaning as far back into the seat as possible. “That brat. That stupid, stupid brat! I have no idea what he's up to but he will get an earful from his mother.” It was very difficult for the man not to take the Sitterbot and drag the boy out by his hair. “Amir doesn't even like surprises!” he muttered, rubbing his brow firmly with his index finger. “Ok, take a deep breath, calm yourself, this is just a bird out on its first flight. Mistakes are all but required for these adventures.”
Amir beamed, “I look forward to your future parties! And don't be concerned, I'm not expecting anything in return just yet, this is my first time cultivating a young mind and I quite like how philanthropic it makes me feel.”
Ignoring the obvious offense, the professor simply laughed. “Young? Hardly, I'm fast approaching middle age; I'm 35. You, on the other hand, do look awfully young.” Max flagged down a snack tray and offered some to Amir, “Finest quality you'll find this side of town~”
Amir graciously accepted the snack and politely ate it, “This is delicious, thank you. I'm not as young as I look. I turn 24 in a little over two months, although most don't believe me.” He smiled and extended his hand, “It was a pleasure getting to know you, but it would be rude of me if I kept the handsome host all to myself this evening. Here is my contact card, please let me know if you need any support, financially and other.” He winked and went off to mingle with the rest of the guests, not turning back.
“Well, that was sure interesting,” Maximilian commented while toying with the hairpiece. “Well at least I might have a chance with Adelle tonight.”
Amir, however, did not have a chance with the hostess. The beautiful woman was never without a circle of chattering nobles and Amir wasn't about to lower himself to their level to squeeze himself into the crowd like a sardine. He was comfortable in the fact that it was nearly impossible for the woman to dislike his donation, so he wasn't too worried about not meeting her tonight. He hadn't met a woman younger than his mother in his entire life. All he had to rely on were old movies and stories in his father's letters, but he supposed another day or week or month did not matter in the grand scheme...which was to find some more nobles and get acquainted.
All in all, though, Amir enjoyed the evening and he looked forward to the next event. Which won't be too far ahead into the future since he was able to gather invitations as well as contact cards at Maximilian's wonderful party. It was only a matter of time before the surprise was announced, and although Amir was not interested in winning, he was looking forward to seeing what sort of plan the two professors were concocting in their labs. 'If I can get in on it before it's big, father will never regret letting me see the real world and he won't mind retiring early.' His lips pulled into a smirk behind a champagne flute, 'Only a matter of time.'
--
1 – Biometal is solid made up of a group of nanobots that are programed to gather together much like electrons in an atom (they appear solid but are really free moving) in whatever form the programmer chooses. Biometal distributes force equally throughout a structure to prevent damage to the whatever is inside or behind it. Created primarily for human, building, and transportation armor.
2 – A Sitterbot is a modified version Amir's biometal invention. A spherical robot with six arms that it can extend at any given time, also equipped with a camera and microphone that feeds directly to its human controller wherever he or she may be. The Sitterbot was originally intended for use in the war, but Amir's father re-engineered the device and marketed it as a babysitter for high ranking war officials to check in on their children OR have them taken care of without any strangers physically meeting the child. Has a fail-safe that prevents any harm to the non-threatening humans and animals.
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Posted: Thu Dec 24, 2009 4:29 pm
Thecatsred, Prompt 1
"Dammit, why does it have to be so cold?" Rochelle grumbled with a scowl. She swung her leg over the side of the bed and let her toes come in contact with the cold floor. She reached down under her bed, her short hair flailing wildly in her face, and groped around blindly for what she needed. When her fingers finally grasped something cool and metal, she yanked it out and sat back up just a bit too quickly, making her light-headed and immobile for a few seconds.
“Here we go,” She brought her prosthetic leg into position and snapped in a few things, pressed a button or two and flexed, testing her rage of motion. It was stiff at first like always, so she stood up warily and hobbled over to her window seat. She plopped down and continued to flex her leg while amusing herself with idle doodles on her frosty windows and her frantic thoughts of the night ahead.
A few days ago a letter had arrived at her modest little townhouse with a simple invitation tucked inside. Though she knew the moment she read it this matter was anything but simple. Her mother was pleasantly delighted that her daughter was actually invited to a formal event. Rochelle was never one for attending parties or social events of any sort, but this one promised so much more than the others had. With a father in the medical field, many rumors tended to trickle out at the dinner table over somebody’s happenings and whatnot, and this certain tidbit definitely got the entire family’s interest peaked.
But what they were least expecting was their youngest daughter getting invited to the actual party in question. At first, Rochelle was almost vehement about not attending, insisting one of her elder sisters take her place. After much coaxing from her father and ranting from her mother about how rude that would be she caved in and decided to accept the invitation, still feeling rather uneasy about the whole thing.
Eventually the window ran out of drawing space and it felt like her leg had decided to start working for her again, so she stood up on shaky legs and made her way to her particularly humble closet. Seeing as how she never went to extravagant parties, Rochelle was hard-pressed to find a decent and fitting dress for the occasion in her wardrobe. The best and most weather appropriate item was bright orange, a strange choice of color for a dinner party, but the only thing she had. With a sigh she plucked it from its hanger and draped it over her arm, making a beeline for the bathroom. One dress, a pair of cute flats, and some primping later, she ventured from the bathroom looking as pretty as ever and feeling more nervous than if she was about to show up to a blind date.
“Daddy?” She called as she wandered into the kitchen. “Can we go now?” Though she was looking for her aforementioned father, it was her mother who burst into the kitchen with far too much enthusiasm.
“Ohh, my baby girl, just look at you!” She scurried over to her daughter, pinched at her bare skin, spun her around a few times and hugged her repeatedly. “You see why I said you should wear dresses more often? You fill them out wonderfully, sweetie.” She pulled back then and smiled. “We’re taking you shopping once you get back with a certain little present, by the way.” Her mother winked and patted her on the shoulder as she exited the room with a few words in parting. “Have fun, missy. Don’t get too nervous now, y’hear?” Rochelle rolled her eyes and shrugged at her mildly confused looking father who just happened to walk into the room.
“Ignore her. She’s just excited for you.” He said with a playful sigh. “You ready?” He got a nod in response and grinned. “C’mon then. It’ll be a while before we get there, so we better head out now.”
“Hey, Dad?” Rochelle nearly whispered after a mostly silent car ride.
“Mhmm?”
She paused, perhaps to gather her words, though truthfully, she was not sure why. “I…I don’t feel comfortable going to this. I mean,” She pointed down at herself with a hint of disgust. “Just look at what I’m wearing. I have a feeling I’ll end up being the butt of everyone’s jokes and not be taken seriously at all.” She slid down in her seat and grumpily stared out the window.
Her father glanced at her and sighed. “Rocky, stop fretting. You’ll be able to hold your own against all those snotty ‘better than thou’ folk any day if you just be yourself, trust me. Don’t try and be anything you aren’t, it’ll only make it worse, m’kay?”
Rochelle pouted a bit more before closing her eyes and scooting back up. “Fine…but I sure hope you’re right…” Around this time, her father had pulled up to the front of the laboratory. Rochelle frowned at the ruined look of it and turned a questioning glace to her father, who assured her they were in the right place. “I could’ve sworn these people would be living in a mansion or something fancy like that…” She said to herself, giving her father a peck on the cheek before she gingerly stepped out of the car and began the walk up the front steps.
Just act like you meant to dress this way. Keep your head up. Don’t freeze up. Look people in the eyes and don’t mumble. Stand up straight so your boobs look bigger. Don’t gush over the attractive men. Don’t freeze up. Greet everyone. Look confident…
She ran through her mental check list a few more times before going to the doors and knocking softly. After a few moments of waiting, Rochelle began to grow impatient waiting out there in the cold, so she took it upon herself to open one of the heavy doors. The moment she did so, she heard a muffled ‘oof’ followed closely by a slightly louder string of curses. She gasped and quickly let go of the handle, hurrying over to the other side of the door. A blonde man with freakishly long hair (at least from Rochelle’s point of view) stood there with a grimace on his face and a hand over his forehead.
“Oh my god,” She scurried to the man and tilted his chin up slowly while she carefully coaxed him to detach his hand from his head. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know anyone was behind these doors since there was no answer at first. Here,” She paused and inspected the red spot on the man’s forehead. “It doesn’t seem to be swelling, luckily. Though you should probably put some ice on it just in case.” She nodded at him and gave his shoulder a supportive pat.
The man sighed and gave his forehead one last rub before giving his attention to the woman in front of him. “So, putting aside that little incident for now, may I ask just who you are?”
Rochelle looked around nervously, afraid this guy would throw her out if she said anything wrong. “Um, R-rochelle.” She managed; her cheeks aflame due to her stumbling over her own name.
“Rochelle?” The man echoed, looking thoughtful. “Rochelle...Rochelle…Ah!” She stopped his musing and looked her in the eyes, oblivious to the chatter around him. “You wouldn’t happen to be Rochelle Nikonov, would you?”
A simple nod was all he got in return. Her throat was far too dry to chance talking just then.
“Well, other than you being a bit early compared to the other guests, I actually didn’t expect you to come at all.” He ushered her over to a table with a banquet of food laid down upon it and began searching for something cold for his head.
“Oh?” She asked, watching him look around. “I actually tried to get out of coming here, truthfully. I don’t really like big parties, but my mother said I should at least try to um, well, y’know.” She waved her hand in some sort of obscure motion and looked at the other few guests mingling with each other, obviously having already formed their own cliques, and excluding those whom they felt did not belong. “So…”
The man turned around then, suddenly thrusting out his hand in greeting. “I seem to have forgotten my manners. I’m Maximilian, the man behind this whole party. Nice to meet you, Ms. Nikonov.”
Rochelle’s face went pale even as she accepted the offered hand. “Y-you’re Maximilian? You mean I just…bashed the Maximilian’s face in with a door?” She stood there motionless, her grip on Max’s hand causing her knuckles to go white.
Max quickly shook his head and gave Rochelle a half-hearted smile. “No harm no foul, right? Don’t worry about it.” He tried to get his hand back then, but Rochelle was still holding on firmly. “Ms. Nikonov, please…I need my ha-“
“Call me Rochelle,” She blurted, taking her hand back as if it had been stung. “Ms. Nikonov makes me sound old, which I’m not. And um, nice to meet you, too, Max. Wait. Can I even call you Max? Oh god, I don’t know what I’m doing here.” She looked mildly feverish as she turned away from him, but she did not dare move yet.
“Erm, right. Rochelle…you can call me Max, I suppose. But why do you keep saying you don’t want to be here? Everyone here wants one of my princes they’ve only heard about. Do you happen to not want one?” He seemed to be completely ignorant of her actions.
She did not turn around. “No, that’s not it. I…guess having someone else around the house would be nice. And my mother already planned out a place for…the prince…to live and whatnot. I just don’t…feel like my reasons for wanting one are justifiable, y’know? He’d be a huge help with just some of the things I need to do around the house, as I’ve got a um, minor disability to work with…” She finally turned around then, making minimal eye contact with Max for a moment before she gingerly lifted her dress over her right leg to show her gleaming prosthetic.
“I mean, it’s nothing I haven’t learned how to deal with, it’s just some things people take for granted are nearly impossible to accomplish with…this.” She lowered the material and straightened up. “So when I got that invitation in the mail, I thought, ‘Oh how wonderful!’ but after I gave it some consideration, I wasn’t sure what to think. I guess, in the end, I’d treat the…prince…like a younger sibling of sorts, and I don’t think that’s what you had in mind when you came up with this idea…” She dropped her head warily.
“Well,” Max began, leaning on the edge of the banquet table. “Truthfully I don’t particularly care who does what with their prince once they get ‘im. That’s not a concern to me at the moment. I’m more preoccupied with…other things of interest, really. I’m sure you understand what I mean, correct?” His surly manner shook Rochelle from her stupor and made her frown a bit.
“I’m not sure I’m following...”
Maximilian chuckled lowly and turned his free hand around to make the universal symbol for ‘cash’. “Ah, but it’s no secret why any man of business and intellect would get himself into a project such as this. Am I correct in this assumption?”
Rochelle folded her arms across her chest in a protective manner, though what she was protecting she did not know. “You want money.”
Max pointed a finger at the ceiling and grinned. “Bing!” He announced loudly, making a few of the other guests turn their heads. “The lady gets it right.” He lowered his hand and studied his fingers while he spoke. “Of course I do, Rochelle. Everyone in this day and age wants money. Even the people who have gobs and gobs of the stuff lying around their house. Why else would these people,” He paused to make a wide motion at the rest of the room’s inhabitants. “Want a prince, eh? They are all rich snobs, but they have ideas, see? And they have the money to make these ideas come to life, yes? But they need somebody, something, to make these ideas a reality. So they are willing to shovel out loads of cash for one of my sweet little princes whom they will, in turn, train to do their bidding.” He stopped his little speech and reached over to the table to pluck a cracker with some oddly colorful topping from a platter.
“The only reason you got an invitation at all, Rochelle, is because I know your father has plenty of funds in reserve for his ‘research’. Plus your elder sisters are already married or promised away to some man, so I figured I’d invite you instead.” He made a motion at her not-so-appropriate-for-the-occasion outfit, being none too discreet when he let his eyes roam freely. “And I have to say that I’m glad I did invite you. If I wasn’t so in need of the funds, I might’ve even been willing to offer you a…discount of sorts.”
Rochelle saw red; her mouth pressed into a thin line across her face and her brows drew down in anger. “You…you greedy pig! As long as you get your money you don’t give a s**t what happens to the little prince, do you? You could easily care less if your experiments end up doing the s**t nobody else wants to do just because their owner was far too lazy to do the stuff themselves but managed to bribe you with their s**t money.” She stormed up to Max and grabbed him by his relatively shabby collar. “Listen here,” She hissed. “I don’t care who has the highest bid, or even how much it is, but I expect you to tell me what that amount is before the end of this little party, and I’ll be sure to raise it by at least ten percent.”
She let go of his collar now, but she did not back away. “I refuse to let somebody be abused simply for profit.” She reached up and lightly patted his cheek, a wry smile on her face. “Now,” She started, looking around with mild interest. “I haven’t eaten yet, so I think I will partake in the food here, if you don’t mind. Good day to you, sir.” She offered a shallow curtsy and left a thoroughly stunned Maximilian in her wake.
Well, Max thought once he regain his composure and shook himself off. This will surely prove to be an interesting night…
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Posted: Thu Dec 24, 2009 11:45 pm
hanging gallow, Prompt 3
Name: Iyou Sanjivani
Prompt: 3
It was like a high school prom all over again, her body pressed against the wall with a silk red dress hugging everyone of her curves as a long necked flute overflowing with champagne continuously twirled in her silk gloves, too bad she was standing there alone. A small sigh of disapproval hissed across her lips as she quickly shoved the untouched hazardous liquid on a leaning tray of hour de oeuvres balanced on in the hands of an impoverished waiter. She had been at this so called farce of a banquet for over an hour and after troubling herself to step out in to the toxic rotting wasteland of a city she expected at least a chance to run into one of the so called city scientist, however they seemed to have their hands full. She had to admit though the cream of the crop had showed up, each with their pockets lined with gold waiting for their fat repulsive fingers to wrap around another’s. It was true she was no better them then in their purpose of appearing at the gathering. Everyone wanted the chance to lay their bids in on this so called new “Prince” that the Professor Maximilian had brought to the table, and each with their own reasons.
Getting their attention was the harder part of her night as she crept her way along the wall. Sure she probably looked like one of those small cleaning mechanical brooms who quickly scurried along the floor clinging to the footboard of the wall, what where they called? Tubbybottoms? In which they seemed to be somewhat lacking in this sort of laboratory as another small spiderish creature dodged its way from the tramping feet into a darken corridor but who could blame him? There was enough pathogen’s floating in the cesspool alone send her into coma from shock. However his escape plan was rather poorly chosen, the darken corridor seemed rather unattended to compared to the rest visited rooms and the musty sent of mold wafted into her nostrils causing her to send a small baby barf up her throat. Now this was odd to see her brow rose with curiosity as she looked around. As usually everyone was focused on the hosts of the party and a wallflower was left unattended.
She pressed her hand to the wall, the cold vibration sank into her glove as a shiver ran across her body every time her fingertips snagged on the peeling wallpaper. Her steps only created more puffs of dust to rise from the ground but the odd green light that faintly grew larger edging her own; obviously it wasn’t a powder room for girls. Curiosity continued to nibble at the senseless fear of dirt as she swung the door open only to be smacked with dismay as the green light revealed a sent of steep stairs. Great with heels! A snarl raced across her lips as she made her way down the stairs each more painful to the next. Seriously this was more of a work out then she had bargained to come across this night, never would she regret the idea of the invention of movable stairs no matter how lazy it made the race of humans.
But the trip didn’t prepare her for what she came to at the bottom of the stairs. It was horrifying. No, horrifying was far to gentle of a word to describe the scene that was laid out before her has her hand fled to cover the emotions that began to bubble up to the surface from the bottom of her throat. Frogs where pinned to the wall neatly laid in a raunchy position split in half and full exposed. Gripping the edge of a steel table her stomach began to wheel as she noticed the neatly lined trays of small surgical tools. It was like a scene out of her worst horror fantasy novel, except lacking the cute handsome guy to come sweeping in and saving. Ignoring the variety of rather peculiar instruments lining the wall and extending into the room Iyou gathered up the bottom of her skirts only to be greeted by a man in a suit. Goosebumps quickly spread like a wildfire across her dark Indian skin when did he arrive? He could have been her knight in shinning armor if it wasn’t for the rather murderous look on his face, not to mention he was the one who owned the very room she was standing it.
s**t her mind spewed from her lips like garbage disposal after half a turkey dinner was fed to it, “well Professor Maximilian it appears that I have finally gotten your attention tonight. Not so much in the way I had planned.” Her mouth jumbled as his piercing blue eyes remained fixed upon her. She could feel the sweat starting to crawl down her bar back he was rather intimidating close up but nevertheless.
“I am reassured you know why I as everyone else is here,” she continued pulling herself up straight from the awkward pose of a shocked stance, “that I have interest in putting an offer into the bribe pot for the so called project Prince that has been whispered around tonight. I am reassured that you probably have little care in why I do wish obtain him but I can tell you that I will do whatever it is to achieve my goal. To do so I will need your cooperation. As for my offer…” Iyou paused, now he was interested. Shifting her weight to secretly move away from the jars of floating eyeballs seriously she felt as if she was locked in a staring contest with them from behind the curtain of her black satin hair.
“I am willing to offer you my entire dowry my father had set aside since I was a child as well of one third of the profits my company makes at the end of this year. I have no interest in marriage, marriage means sharing and I have little use to give over what I have of my father’s company to a sniveling idiot to run. No, I will not let anyone ruin what I have earned by creation. I know to you this at the moment seems very little to you however I will also offer something that may peak your interest besides money.”
Quickly digging through the bag and enclosing the small metal object in her hand she moved to closer to the professor.
“In my hand I have three sets of keys. Each belongs to a different vehicle from my late father’s collection. As much as he dearly loved them I am willing to part with them myself seeing little use in owning so many. You may do as you please with them keep them, sell them, or even completely destroy them in your own happiness of pleasure I do not care.” Holding out her still shaking hand to him she replied in a unfaltering voice, “Professor Maximilian do we have a deal or not?”
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Posted: Fri Dec 25, 2009 2:02 am
Damaru the Fallen, Prompt 3
"Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt" went the alarm. Damaru reached over and pressed the off switch on the hologram control console. He looked over, already knowing the time. 4:00pm. He had decided to get some sleep before the big night, but didn't sleep anyways. Instead he hadlaid in bed in anticipation of the night to come, enthralled by the prospect of winning the special gift. To think that the great and reclusive Maximilian was going to finally release a prince to the world and that he had a chance of getting it... well... who could contain their excitement?
He got up and walked onto the bathroom, waving his hand over the light sensor. He looked to the monitor on the wall. "On" he said in a commanding tone, followed by a hiss of steam as the voice activated shower sprung to life. The screen beside the shower sprung to life as well, prompting him to set the temperature and pressure of the water. He pressed a myriad of numbers, followed by an accepted screen, then a flashing reminder screen.
"The Big Day"
He had set it to remind himself of the event, though he knew he wouldn't forget.
After finishing his shower, he walked into the large closet attached to his bedroom. Though quite large, it was nearly empty. "If I had a wife I'm sure it would be filled up with all sorts of useless things like shoes by now" he thought to himself. He walked all the way to the back where a single suit hung in a bag. It had been five years since he last wire it, yet it remained in the same pristine condition it did back then. He paused for a moment, recalling his life leading up to this point. Like the professor, he too had been a government employee in the early days of the war.
Although it differed from the professor in many ways. Whereas the professor was a scientist, he had been in the military field. "Intel gatherer" was his title on paper, but everyone knew his sector was just spies. He spent most of his service in enemy countries, often times using an alias to infiltrate government offices. On on such assignment, his last, he had nearly been found out. His role was to neutralize and impersonate a senior military official from the North American Allies Nations, and take his place at a meeting of nation heads. What he was not told however was that the man had a son that would be returning that week.
He learned of this development after one of the target's aide's asked him which day his son was returning. Upon learning these new developments, he had decided that his role was no longer safe and that it was time to terminate his assignment.
After this close call, his supervisor's has jointly decided to terminate his employment, and compensated him greatly for the early termination of his contract. He immediately stashed away the greater sum of his gold and put most of the remainder into a home and investments. To this day, he still had not yet needed to touch the hidden amount. He pulled the suit off the hook, looking at it once more before taking it out to his room.
It had been this suit he wore on his final day of employment, the last day of that chapter of his life, and it was this suit he would wear for the beginning of the next. The fabric was skev, as smooth as a baby's bottom, as light as silk, and as tough as kevlar. The suit was a deep blue color, with light pinstripes down the pants and coat. He chose a black shirt to wear with it. He put it on, followed by his black penny loafers and walked to the bathroom once more. He checked his pocket watch. 4:30. Still plenty of time before the party was set to begin. He brushed his hair back into the smooth spikes he was so accustomed to and walked to the door, certain that this would be the last final time he saw it alone. With a slight smile, he locked the door and walked out. He strolled down the street, wondering how many others would be there. As he approached the corner he walked over to the bus stop.
In the last couple years, the Percy system had been upgraded to include a speech component. He pulled the lever on the sign. Instantly, the usual face appeared on screen, still smiling that ever stupid smile. "Hello traveler, please swipe your I.D. card across the scanner". The voice seemed to have personality behind it, sounding almost human and less like the computer that it was. He was slightly amazed at the complexity of it. He swiped his card over the scanner as instructed. The face disappeared and a flashing bar appeared on the screen, as to alert passing buses that there was a traveler. Several minutes later, one of the large slightly rusted buses appeared on the corner, spewing odorous exhaust into the air. He got on, took a seat, and closed his eyes, envisioning the night to come.
Before he knew it, the bus had pulled up to the stop that he needed. As he got off the bus he walked up the street towards the mansion known only as Professor X's. As he approached, he stood in awe at the building and admired how elegant it was. The gate's swung open and he walked up the wide path to the large double doors at the top of the stoop. One was being held open by an assistant to the professor and he presented his invitation to the man. A small hologram appeared of the professor's voice above it. "You have been invited" it stated. The doorman smiled and waved Damaru through.
As he entered the grand hall, he was amazed at the sheer size of the place. Tables lined the walls with a myriad of fine wines, and an elaborate array of exotic and eloquent delicacies, obviously selected by the professor to astound the palates of his guests. At least three-score chandeliers hung from the ceiling, all shining brilliantly. As Damaru wandered further in, he saw the host and hostess of the party already engaged in heavy conversation. "Curse my luck that I should show up early, but not enough" he thought to himself. He figured he would find a way to talk with them later, as there seemed to be no way to get close enough to them at the present time, and began to wander around. It was then that he noticed the door near the back of the stairs. Tucked away in the corner lay a heavy cherry wood door. Engraved upon it were two princes with rapiers, standing back to back. Their human heads had been replaced with those of frogs. There were two knobs, both brass and polished. As he approached the door, he ran his fingers over the engravings. Slowly he reached out and grasped one of the handles, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention before turning it and walking in slowly.
He found himself in a long hallway. The walls and Ceiling were an off white color, the floor a pattern of black and white tiles. A single row of lights stretched down the hall, leaving it well illuminated. As he walked down the hall there were many rooms on either side. A few had what seemed to be exam tables and weird contorted dentist chair-like contraptions, while yet others remained completely empty. It wasn't any of the rooms that attracted his attention however, but a small crack of light in the wall approximately halfway down the hallway.
As he arrived at the crack of light, he reached out towards it. As he reached forward and placed his hand against the wall, it swung forward, revealing a hidden stairway. He looked around again, worried someone might have noticed by now as he heard the music from the grand hall. He then turned and ventured forth through the doorway. The steps seemed to carry on forever, taking him several minutes to get to the bottom. As he got there he found that it was slightly cooler than the upstairs hallway had been. He also noticed another door. The first thought that came to him mind was of the door being locked and this journey all for nothing, but he was proven wrong when he reached out for the handle and turned it, hearing a small click. The door swung open to reveal a large research room. Upon the walls hung many frog and toad specimens. They ranged from common species you could find in the swamp to many now known to be extinct in the wild. He wondered how long it took to gather this collection, and where some of them came from. As he thought for a moment, he knew exactly where he was. The laboratory of the frog prince program.
There were large stainless steel work tables lining the walls. Scattered about them were books, presumably to keep track and keep a record of the experiments. There were also many vials and beakers, some filled with various colored substances, some not filled at all. On the walls where specimens did no hang, and scattered about the tables, were many instruments and tools, of which he recognized very few, those being from school many years ago. "And here I thought they just told us about this stuff to bore us in school" he thought to himself. He noticed on that he had seen several times and that he worked with personally through interrogations.
A plasma scalpel. It had a thin tubular handle, like any other scalpel, but instead of a blade, there was a button on the side of the handle. When pressed, the button would activate a small blade of energy out of the top, which would cut as smooth as a diamond saw, and would burn the edges of the cut. He set the blade back down and continued to inspect various tools and records until he heard footsteps behind him. He froze for a moment before slowly turning around to see professor Y staring at him. Damaru took a small step back, nervous as he knew he should not be down here.
Professor Y stood there with his arms crossed, his brow cast downward and his nose slightly scrunched up. One could tell that he was clearly upset that one of his guests had ventured misguided through the building and into the laboratory. "What are you doing down here and who are you?" he asked sternly.
"I am D...D...Damaru Knipzivich, formerly from Russia" he stammered, obviously nervous. "I was invited to the party tonight. I noticed that everyone was busy upstairs and engaged in conversations and I began to wander around. That's when I found the door upstairs leading into the hallway, and subsequently the stairs leading down here. I didn't mean to take advantage of your hospitality, I just wandered down here and was looking around".
The professor walked over to the table and picked up the scalpel Damaru had been holding just moments before. "I see you were looking over things down here" he stated matter-of-factly. "So, it would seem you have caught my attention, wanted or not, and seem to be occupying my time. It takes a rather quick mind to find their way down here, and bravery for one to even attempt such a task. I must say that I am somewhat impressed. So here is my offer to you. You shall tell me why you deserve my prized prince, then we shall return to the party together, and this will have never happened".
Damaru though for a moment, slightly taken back by the lack of anger in the professor. Then with a nod he answered. "Alright, I'll agree to those terms, though I suppose at this point I don't have much of a choice. I believe for many reasons that I should be awarded your prince. I'll start with something we have in common. We both have been government dogs. Both of us set to do a job that granted neither of us the respect we deserved. We both gave out services faithfully, yet our superiors never saw us as equals, just as the person to get their job done".
Damaru stood more erect now, boosted by a wave of confidence as he spoke. He was certain that he could win this prince. "Another reason I feel I deserve the prince is the fact that I don't have anyone. I have no family of my own, and the last of my kin died years ago, my parents years before that. I have never married and have never been blessed with a child. I am alone, yet I do not wish to die this way. The prince would be like a son to me. I would raise him with the care and attention that he would need. I would be able to give him a safe and steady growing environment.
The professor thought for a moment. He decided the man had brought up a couple good points, but he needed more. "What can you give me that others have not or may not be able to?"
Damaru thought for a moment carefully. He knew this was his moment. This was his one chance to win the trust and respect of the professor. "A promise. I promise you that your prince would be in the best and most capable hands if given to me. And I never make a promise I won't keep".
"Fair enough" the professor stated. "Now, let us return to the party shall we? I have already spoken with you more than any of my other guests tonight". With that he turned slightly and motioned to the door, waiting for Damaru to go up the stairs.
Damaru paused for a moment and took one last look around, then looked to the professor. "Sir, may I ask what the princes eat?"
"A good question that" the professor stated. "Each prince has a special diet, catered to their specific and unique individual needs. With the specialty of the prince to be given out tonight, who knows, maybe he will eat crushed up Christmas bulbs and tinsel salads" said the professor with a laugh.
With that Damaru smiled and nodded before turning towards the stairs. He walked up them at a steady pace, yet it seemed to be quicker than going down them. As he reached the top the door opened and there stood Madame X.
She stood before him in a beautiful turquoise evening gown, and a light red shawl draped about her shoulders. "There you are Maxy" she said with a smile. "I was wondering where you had gone off to".
"It was just a stray sheep that needed to be pulled back to the flock. Nothing to worry about" he said, taking her arm into his. "This is Damaru, quite the interesting young man" he said as she shook Damaru's hand. "Now, let us return to the party shall we?" With that they made their way down the hallway, Damaru first, with the other two in tow. As the approached the doors with the engraved princes, Damaru noticed this side was engraved with Yggdrasil, the world tree, giver of all life. Under it were the words "Only through man shall evolution truly see greatness". With a final pause, he slipped through the doors and entered the party, the other two waiting a moment before doing the same.
Some time passed before Professor Y and Madame X stood upon the top of the stairs at the back of the grand hall. "Excuse us please, may we have your attention" they said in unison. Then the profession spoke "After much though, we have decided who shall receive the prince. He shall be given to...
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