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 Posted: Sat May 08, 2010 7:33 pm
 A man cannot make a pair of shoes rightly unless he do it in a devout manner.
~Thomas Carlyle
♫♪♫ Table of Contents ♫♪♫
1: Table of Contents
2: Amaravati Priti
3: Love/Hate
4: Stories
5 & Beyond: Solos
  Played by: Miss Cherie
Art by: Natsube
Banners by: Nessariah
Sailor Moon by: Takeuchi Naoko
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Posted: Sat May 08, 2010 8:08 pm
 Always wear expensive shoes. People notice.
~Brian Koslow
♫♪♫ Amaravati's Profile ♫♪♫
 Negaverse: Lieutenant Ametrine
Name: Amaravati Priti
Nicknames: Amara, ‘Mara, Mare
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Birthday: August 13
Sign: Leo
Blood Type: O
School: Crystal Academy
Fav. Food: Curry (pretty much no matter the origin), rice, Popeye’s chicken, pudding, Mexican food in general, Indian and Thai food in general, desserts that include chocolate.
Hated Food: French food. Seriously, that stuff has no flavor, and why are there tiny onions floating in a white sauce? No, just no. She does not like tapioca pudding, an exception to the pudding rule.
Hobbies: Sports, particularly soccer, and horseback riding, cooking, playing the flute
Sports—Amara likes playing sports because it is one way in which she can (almost) completely break away from her father’s desire to mold her into a ‘lady’. In some cases this is less true, as of horseback riding. Actually, that’s pretty much entirely not the %^*@ing case. That was all his idea. All his idea. Every $%*#ing bit of it. Of course, the fact that she got to pick out her own horse sweetened the deal for her slightly, and the grumbling pretty much cut off as soon as she was faced with an actual, honest to god horse. She likes soccer because it involves a lot of kicking, and nifty, cleated shoes. Note: She does not play on a school team, since soccer is frowned on at Crystal.
Cooking—There is one concession she has made to her father’s plan to overhaul her into the image of a delicate young lady, and that is in the kitchen. Mostly, this stems from a desire for complete control of her surroundings. If she is meticulous in following the recipes that she picks out for her own use, she reaps good results. That gives her almost total control of the situation, and she finds that it is rather satisfying to chop up unsuspecting vegetables, and various other ingredients. Also, this provides her with a nice, consistent source of chocolaty treats, which she is allllll in favor of.
Flute—Well, see, it was either play the god$#*@ed flute, or be in a choir. Guess which one she chose? Between the two, becoming a flutist was the clear winner. There is some precedent in her family for this, and she is proud of her family, if somewhat disenchanted with daddy’s attempts at shoving her into the role of some high society girl. Her mother plays the flute, her grandmother played the flute, her grea—yeah, you get the picture. Besides, it keeps her hands nice and limber, and her fingers agile. … Which is entirely useful, for all the wrong reasons that daddy dearest really doesn't need to know about.
-- Addendum: Also, Amara likes to collect shoes, particularly stiletto boots. This doesn't really fit in with her usual hobbies, but is something that is vital to her character. She treasures her shoes, $%*#it, and anyone who gets between mama and her latest precious pair is going to get %#$*ing walloped. Yeah, you just back the @*%# away.
Gemstone: Onyx
Virtues:
Guarding the Den— When push comes to shove, Amaravati feels the need to take care of and protect the (very) small circle of people she considers friends and family. Mothering doesn’t exactly cut it, because it doesn’t touch the fierce protectiveness that runs throughout her behavior where those special people are concerned. If you have crossed one of her ‘cubs’, you better back off real fast.
Mama Lioness— There’s stubborn, and then there’s Stubborn. Amara falls into the latter category. It’s really not worth the time and effort it takes to convince her that whatever she’s after is a no go. When she’s made up her mind about something, she will hold on until the bitter end every time. Arguments with ‘Mara are, uhh, interesting to say the least. She isn't stubborn over what clothes to wear for the day or how to do her hair, but is more dead-set on what she thinks needs to be done in relation to other people.
Queen of the Jungle— It’s hard to shake her confidence, due to that stubborn nature, and she’s pretty damn sure that what she has got is something that people want. They might not admit that they want it, but in the end, they’ll come back for more. In spite of the fact that this has not always proven to be true, she remains self-possessed and assertive, with plenty of ego to go around.
Feline Independence— As a result of that confidence and stubborn nature, Amaravati often goes it alone. She might hold to a couple of friends, but she needs her time to herself. Her wandering feet will take her all over the map if given half a chance. It is not easy to convince Amara that as she shelters other people, so she must also be sheltered. She remains unconvinced, and determined to make her own way even if she has to knock a few heads together while she’s at it.
Flaws:
Leader of the Pride— While her confidence and protectiveness can be entirely helpful, when coupled with her stubbornness, we reach a problem. She thinks she knows better than the people around her what they need. Obviously, they have a serious disagreement, there. People do not like being managed, and Amara will not only nearly always feel that she is in the right, but that she needs to manage them. Danger, Will Robinson.
Hunter's Gaze— If she’s met you, you can believe that she has pretty much already made up her mind about you. That can sometimes be a good thing… if, y’know, she thinks well of the person she’s met. Unfortunately, it also gets in the way of friendships and partnerships if she doesn’t, because once made her opinion is pretty hard to shake.
Best in Show— Oh no you didn’t just insult her. Maybe ‘Mara isn’t your average skinny rich chick, but if you dare to say anything about it, you had best believe there will be a fight. We’re not talking a catfight here, kiddies. She is convinced that she is an Indo-Aryan Venus, and that is that. She might not say so, but she’s definitely thinking it. The show of vanity is a defense mechanism; growing up, she suffered from a lot of ‘fat girl’ jokes (and a lot of worry from her parents over her figure), and now that she’s blossomed into a young woman, she is well aware that some of those jokes were born of jealousy. At least, that’s what she wants to believe. She’s broken up friendships over it in the past, and is not likely to stop doing so anytime soon.
Caterwaul— She is loud, and she is proud… but sometimes she goes overboard. Actually, she often goes overboard. Everything she does is obviously the most important thing ever, and thus everything she experiences is much the same. The latest drama is totally the world’s biggest crisis, and for all that she is generally prepared to handle that, she will make mountains out of mole hills. There might be real danger, but you’d be more likely to hear about it when she broke the heel of her latest shoe.
Challenge: Death is only the beginning.
Weapon: An orange pronged black and gold plastic pitchfork (of doom), affectionately dubbed Karma.
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Posted: Sat May 08, 2010 8:29 pm
 I buy women shoes and they use them to walk away from me.
~Mickey Rooney
♫♪♫ Relationships ♫♪♫
Civilian
Sue: Such a $*%#ing pain in the %#@. Also my best and first friend, and unwilling shopping partner. Haven't seen him in forever. He co-owns my cat with me, theoretically. If, y'know, he would ever show.
Drew: The most ^#%#ing gorgeous teacher ever. Without question. Met him while picking out a dirty movie to shock the folks with. It just got better from there.
Khalla: My roommate. It's really not fair that my stupid parents have insisted that I board at Crystal, but at least Khalla's pretty nice. Kind of a prude, though.
Cassius: Cute. Likes clothing. I found him in the shoe section, which I very much approve of.
Demy: Adorable. Absolutely %$*@ing adorable. He likes shiny, glowy things, and I cannot get over how much I need to adopt his $#*.
Tony: Such a dear man. He truly is one of the most chivalrous of the men I have met. Of course, given my track record, I suppose that doesn't say a lot. Possibly as accident prone as I am, sadly.
Creighton: <333 Mine. My boyfriend, my sweetheart, just mine. He's adorable, and pint sized, and likes slasher films as much as I do. He lets me braid his hair, and push him around when I want to, and I love it. I don't know. I can't explain the connection we have, but I'm very happy with the way things are. Now, if only Khalla could loosen up about it just a little.
Negaverse
Captain Obsidian: Oh Captain, my Captain. He is awesome. I'm almost one hundred percent sure that this is one of the most dangerous men alive. He gave me some tips when I went on my first real hunt.
Lieutenant Kremersite: An awesome patrol partner. I'm very glad Rohan sent me in his direction, because we work really well together, and also... well... yeah. I don't like working in pairs usually, but he makes it worth my while.
Senshi
Zue: I found this huge cat in the alley one time, and he was ^#@&#xin;g weird. He wouldn't really let me near him for some reason. ... Well, except when he let me pet him, but that's a pretty normal feline behavior.
Others?
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Posted: Sat May 08, 2010 8:45 pm
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Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 2:12 pm
Dream a Little Dream...He was sitting at the foot of her bed, giving her that sad look that she’d seen before. “Amaravati, bēṭī, I must tell you of something.” His tone was… was everything she had feared, so serious, so stricken. “Pitā, what is it?” She never spoke to him in Hindi. He had forbidden her to use it with him, because he believed that she would better learn how to be American if she struck every word of Hindi from her vocabulary. … She hadn’t bothered to explain to him that having been raised in England, she spoke English fluently. That even mama, who refused to dress in anything but Salwar Kameez, and sarees, everything traditional, everything Indian, could speak perfect English when she chose. It was English at home, and English at school, and that was what. But he had started it tonight. Today. Still so sober, he looked at her straight in the eye, and said, “It’s killing her, bēṭī. You are killing her.” “What? Papa, I would never!” And he cut her off with one sharp jerk of his hand, glaring now, angry. Her Papa was never angry with her. Sinking back down onto the bed, feeling small and very alone quite suddenly, she dared to look up at her father again. “Papa, I don’t… I don’t understand. What do you mean that I am killing her?” “Your mother, Amaravati. You are never home, you do not call, you do not visit. You do not even write. We have bought you a computer, bēṭī, so that you can keep in touch with your family. You have done no such thing.” Amara bit her tongue, fighting to keep from reminding her father that it had been his idea to send her to Crystal full time. Before she had just been a day student, and gone home every day. They had had so much of her they hadn’t known what to do with it, and now her papa was telling her that she was killing her mother by being a bad correspondent? She knew what that look meant. It meant that he would not listen to anything she said. “You will be coming home. Permanently. Tomorrow. Pack your things—I have already withdrawn you from that school of yours. You have one day to make your farewells, and then I expect you to be ready to go. I expect to see you at home, bēṭī.” “I refuse!” Amaravati was on her feet now, her denial such that she could not continue to cower away from him. With a crack, he sent her back down onto the bed, looking less like her father and more like a disapproving school master. “Amaravati… I thought better of you.” Cold, dismissive, and so much a stranger that she could not believe that the man who stood before her, stood over her, was her father. “You will be ready, bēṭī. You will not like what will happen if you are not.” Gasping, Amaravati sat up straight in her bed, the figure gone, the room suddenly so dark. She twisted, glancing over at the alarm clock on the end table. 4:00am, precisely. With a little shudder, she ducked back under the covers, and tried to forget the look on her father’s face. It wasn’t what he had said so much as how he had acted that had so shaken her. Papa never struck her, and he never treated her so harshly. Never. Uneasily, she slipped back to sleep, wary of what might be waiting behind her eyelids. Wordcount: 590
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 11:43 am
A Taste of Freedom...With the melodious tones of Aishwarya Rai playing in her head on an automatic loop, Ametrine leapt up onto the roof of a club, crouching low to keep well hidden. Her pitchfork clutched in her right hand, she moved stealthily across the surface of the roof, practicing her stalking like any young cat might. That Ametrine was a Negaverse Lieutenant and not a feline was unimportant. What skills she could not learn from the more experienced officers she needed to pick up on her own, and she was making a concentrated effort to break herself of her inherent clumsiness. She liked this, this solitude. Hunting in the dark with no one at her back was… exhilarating. If she’d been just a little more impetuous, she would’ve brought her ipod with her, but that seemed like a stupid risk. There was the chance that someone would hear her creeping up on them if she did, and that she couldn’t have. It was not as though she couldn’t have handled them if they’d been warned, but it made for messy hunting. Like a panther against an outcropping of rock, Ametrine went still as voices emerged from the club. Hmmn. She’d never tried to hunt more than one person at once, not yet. Was she ready for it? … No. There was always the chance that a senshi would show up to make a rescue, and the more people, the more likely it seemed. No, she would wait until one of them broke off from the ‘herd’, so to speak. Leaping with as much stealth as she could muster to the next building, she followed a couple as they left the club, skulking along and tracking their movements. She wanted to improve, to impress her superiors if she could. More than that, she wanted to get good enough that she truly was capable of providing the protection against the suited fiends that her friends and family needed. Frowning invisibly, she watched the woman kiss the man goodnight, and slip inside of her apartment. Now was the time to pay attention. She dropped down onto the roof of a house, as light on her feet as could have been expected given her… unfortunate tendencies. But the man didn’t look up. She wasn’t close enough for that. From the roof, she watched him turn off into an alleyway, and a smirk crossed her lips. Oh, that was just playing into her hands, there. Perfect. It was strange how natural it felt to ‘hunt’ other human beings. But perhaps… perhaps it was simply that she knew what she did was for the greater good, for a cause that she could get behind. Then again, maybe there had been a little of the hunter already in Ametrine. Eyes tracking the man, she ran across the roof. When her feet touched down near the edge of the roof, she leapt down into the alley just behind him. “Well hello there,” she purred, holding him in place with the pitchfork. “You don’t mind if I take this, do you? You won’t need it any longer.” With her free hand, she ripped his starseed out of his chest. Holding the starseed in that hand up to her eye level, she let the man fall to the ground in a heap. Mission accomplished, she set about to getting rid of the evidence of that short struggle, hauling the man’s body over her shoulder and leaping onto the roof once more, the pitchfork hidden away for the time being. It was undoubtedly going to be a long night. A long fruitful night. Wordcount: 600
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 4:42 pm
Mirror Mirror on the Wall...It was perhaps the twentieth hunt that gave her the most trouble. She hadn’t been prepared for a real fight, but this man knew his business. He was a martial artist, and that was more dangerous than anything she had encountered so far—but of course she had not yet fought a senshi. “********!” she bit out, when he sent her sprawling into a brick wall. She used the momentum to hurl herself back at him, sucking in deep breaths to steady herself. Grimly, she faced off against him, searching for an opening. He didn’t give her one for a long moment, but finally when she was about to go for it anyway, he moved to slink away, exposing his back. “Shouldn’t have done that,” she hissed, breathing hard. Stupid man. She caught him with the pitchfork, the points sharper than they looked. He went down hard, flat on the ground for a moment, and that was all that she needed. Launching herself at him, she pinned him to the ground and straddled him in an effort to keep him still. Using the pitchfork’s handle, she lifted his head up to that he was forced to meet her eyes as she bent over him, she growled into his face. “Not smart, that. You should pray that your next life will be better than this one.” Longer, too. It was then that he bucked under her, elbowing her in the rib. Hard. A shooting pain made her collapse on him, cursing as she strove to keep her balance. Ugh! Well, he’d been desperate, and she couldn’t really blame him, but it didn’t matter. Her orders were very clear. She was to bring in starseeds, and there would be no excuses for coming up short. Ever. She gave him a punishing blow, knocking him down into the concrete once more. He hissed at her in a language that she didn’t recognize (Chinese? Korean? Japanese? Goodness knows she couldn’t tell the difference), and clawed at her. So much for being a silent hunter. Whatever. She was going to handle this one, not let him handle her. Scrambling, she flipped him over so that she could stare into his fierce brown eyes. “I meant it when I said it. You shouldn’t have done that.” His thrashing and fighting had left her more than a little bruised, and it was starting to seriously grate on her. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. Either way, you’re going to give me what I want.” The punch that he sent flying at her face told her under no uncertain terms that they were doing this the hard way. Something about her expression shifted, going cold and almost… predatory. “Oh good. I was hoping you’d say that.” Though he hadn’t said anything, his actions spoke louder than words. This time, she didn’t simply take the starseed and dump the body. This time, she stayed, and made it linger. It was dangerous to remain in one place for so long, but she didn’t care. He had made her angry, had pushed her buttons, and for that his death was going to be slow and as excruciating as she could manage with such short notice. It was about then that she realized that maybe, just maybe things weren’t as clear cut as they seemed. Maybe, just maybe Ametrine—or Amaravati—was farther gone than she’d realized. Before she returned to her dorm room, she washed the blood off, staring at her face in the mirror to see if anything about her had changed. The face that looked back at her from the glass was not so different than the one she wore on any given day. It was the eyes that revealed the most. Something about them showed a dark knowledge. Or perhaps, just perhaps it was all in her head, and she hadn’t changed at all. It was a trick of the light. It must be. Wordcount: 666
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 8:12 pm
By Any Other Name...Discovering how to wrest starseeds from a person’s chest had… well, almost been accidental. Not entirely, though. Ametrine had spent the first couple of weeks purely observing, learning what she could from watching others. Then there had been that first real hunt with Obsidian watching her, and through trial and error, she had managed to make her first kill, and had acquired her very first starseed. It had been months since then. Months filled with hours of training, and nights where she did nothing but chase after shadows. When she was lucky, she succeeded in catching them. When she wasn’t—well, she didn’t want to think about when she wasn’t. Her most recent hunt had been life changing in its own way. Lately, she was coming to find that she would do a great deal of wicked things in the name of protecting her people. She had not known that about herself, and it was a revelation that she perhaps would have wished to do without. Yet here she was on a rooftop, nestled in the shadows because she was waiting for an opportune moment to strike. Tonight, however, she was having trouble focusing. Perhaps it was because of the dreams she had been having, and perhaps it was because she was suffering from personal growth. Perhaps. Frowning, she stared down at the people below, remembering very well how it had gone. She had killed a man, and it had not been easy. Not only had she learned her own limitations (some of them, at any rate), but she had learned that humans, ordinary, normal humans had strengths of their own. It was a lesson in humility, and it was slowly sinking into her skin. She needed to be more careful. She needed to work harder, faster, stronger. She needed… to be like Captain Obsidian. Ametrine could not imagine ever coming close to the General-King Charonite’s level, but certainly she had decided to strive to improve her own. Maybe one day she wouldn’t be beset with concerns, maybe one day she wouldn’t look in the mirror and wonder who looked out at her. Maybe. It had been several days since that fateful hunt, and she was stewing in her own mortality. At the same time, when she had finally killed the man, it had brought her a satisfaction that she had never before known. It was the sort of satisfaction which in the months before would have shamed her, but she found that she could not fault her own motivations. She was trying to succeed, wasn’t she? Trying to be better? If she didn’t practice like this, she would spend her days falling when she should be leaping. She would spend her hours wrestling with self doubt. That was unacceptable. This new discovery required a hardening of heart, and she was slowly realizing that she was already on her way there. Raising her chin, she looked fiercely down at the lone traveler below. The crowd had dispersed, perhaps via taxis or a bus if such a thing came around so late at night. In the shadow of the taller building behind her, she waited in the dark for just the right moment. If she didn’t move soon, her quarry would be long since lost to the night, and to her. It was time to finish this hunt, time to return home to take up the fabrication that she played at living. When she returned to the dorm, she would be Amaravati again, and she would have a lot to think about. Then again, she always did, didn’t she? Of course. Wordcount: 600
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Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 1:57 pm
Acceptable Losses....Khalla had held her hair back while she threw up, clinging to the toilet until there was nothing left for her to lose, and even then she’d spent the better part of five minutes dry heaving. Sometimes orders were harder to follow—tonight was one of those times. She’d gone out like any other night, searching for a victim, for someone who assuredly deserved to lose both life and starseed to the cause. It had been going very well, really, everything running as smoothly as it did on her better days (nights really), up until she’d taken off the man’s ski mask. He looked… so much like Tony. Anthony Darrow, her personal hero and secret crush. A man that she admired and respected, that she had even begun to care for as a friend. She couldn’t say that the mugger had looked just like him; there were recognizable differences, of course… this man was, for one thing, significantly younger. Young enough that he was closer to her age than Anthony’s, perhaps. But there was something about his eyes, something about the grin that had frozen on his mouth when she’d killed him. Something… haunting. She’d stared at his face, stared into his face while he’d died, and nothing, nothing would make that image leave her. Anthony Darrow, librarian and friend, rescuer. No, no, no! It wasn’t him, it wasn’t. She knew, had known that it wasn’t him… and yet. And yet as she huddled on the tile floor she couldn’t shake the feeling that in some small way she’d betrayed her friend. Oh god. Oh god, why now? She scrubbed at her cheeks furiously, exhausted from weeping, and retching, and fighting. Exhausted. Heart sore. Khalla had held her and told her that everything was okay, that she would be fine. But Khalla didn’t know that it was Amaravati’s fault, didn’t have any inkling that her roommate might have murdered a man. Sweet, gentle Khalla would never have thought that of her. Shakily, she half walked, half crawled to the sink, and scrubbed, and scrubbed at her hands as if somehow with her fervor she could wash the taint away as easily as she’d rid herself of the blood earlier. But she couldn’t. She clung to the sink and just sobbed, guilt wracking her, seeing Tony’s face over and over, gone grey with death. It was too much, simply too much. Deep within her, a calm had begun to stir, and she’d looked up into the mirror, seeing her face reflected there. Murderer. Villain. Soldier. It was what she was, what she had been since she had taken up the mantle of Negaverse officer. She was a soldier, and she could not afford to be weak. Amara was doing her job, doing it as well as she was able. Hadn’t she been told—didn’t she believe?—that this was for the greater good? Anthony’s good. Sue’s good. Khalla’s good. Demy’s good. Creighton’s good. Come on, she was better than this. She didn’t have to be weak like this. She didn’t have to be wretched, and small, and beaten down. She didn’t have to be sick with grief and guilt for doing what was right, what she’d been ordered to do. She didn’t. She didn’t! If she didn’t have to be any of those things, why was she still? Guilt slipped away, hiding somewhere in the miasma of emotion, replaced by resignation. Losses would have to be accepted, $%#@it, because this was a war. Wordcount: 582
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