Sign up now for a
Free Email Account &
your own Online
Writing Portfolio!
Username:
Password:  
Sponsored Links

Click Here To Bid  

Read a Newbie
Badges
Success
Presented To:
Ace Corona

Testimonials
Tell a Friend
Know someone who'd
like this page?

Email Address:

Optional Comment:

Who's Online?
Members: 427    
Guests: 1391    
   
Total Online Now: 1818    
Writing.Com Time

Sunday
May 27, 2012
2:10am EDT


  >> Campfire Creative >> Fiction >> Action/Adventure >> ID #1523584  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
The Chronicles
Two unfortunate souls find themselves taking a trip of otherworldly proportions.
Rated:
13+
by
This item has no ratings.
[Introduction] Long have the scientists and the philosophers argued over what lay beyond our world. All knoew of the stars and the worlds beyond, but one thing we never knew. IS there another here?


Every day we make decisions. Every moment of our lives there is a thousand different things that could happen. In a mere minute our lives can end up thousands of ways. What if we were forced to a place where everything is different? What if your parents never had you? What if your dad never saw you stick that fork in the electric socket? What if the president was someone else. What would the world be like then?

Even more frightening, if those choices stacked up over the ages, might our world be completely unrecognizable? Normally these questions would simply be for the wise, but two teens are going to find it out the hard way, and find out more about themselves and what lies in while they do it.
Albireo Dreamweaver    Present self:

Name: Theodore "Thay" Alanni
Age: 17
Description: Average height and innately unassuming. there's not really much about him that stands out. He's quite intelligent, but usually isn't too big on showing it off. He has brown hair and eyes, and stands at exactly 5' 11". His face is clean, and not unattractive, though not particularly attractive either. His smile is broad and generous when it appears, though those times are rare. He is of slight build, made more for books and computers then work or sports. His fingers are slightly long and smooth, free of callouses or imperfections. His only distinguishing feature is his limp in his right leg. He contracted Polio when he was still a babe and never quite recovered from it. It still pains him constantly, though the times where he is rendered absolutely helpless are few and far between.
Personality: Quite personable once you know him, though he's quite shy if you don't. He tends to not really reach out to people much, as he is used to rejection. Those friends he do keep, however, find him to be worthy of the title. He is generous of his time and resources, and will never say no to a request from a friend. Despite the fact that many people could be said to of used him for this particular attribute, he still continues with it.
bio: Not much to describe here. He's lived the drab life of a modern teenager. School consumes most of his time, where he does only a mediocre job simply because he sees it as a bore and not really worth his time. What he tries on, he succeeds in brilliantly. It's just getting him to try that is the problem. His parents have jobs in big business and while they aren't neglectful of their only son, they tend to be absent most of the time. Thay gets around it by spending large ammounts of time either reading or spending time with his few friends.


Alternate persona:

Name: Chronos, The Magister of Thay
Age: Ancient, though his power make it such that he apperas only in his mid twenties. He learned to stop his own aging at that point in his life.
Description: Always dressed in marvelous flatteery, this suave and powerful man is everything Thay isn't. Or is, just doesn't know it. He holds the world on a string, and he lets you know such when you meet him. Unfortunately, Thay has little idea how to play the role of this confidant bureaucrat and only has the reports of the servants on how he should act. Gradually though, Thay comes to realize his own place and potential and lives the part perfectly. He is a good ruler, caring of his people, and fair in rule. If he seems a little callous it is only due to his irritation at his duties of lord interfering with his desire to find more arcane power. He is constantly dressed in the latest fashions, and his hair is a platinum blond that shines in the light. It is always done perfectly, never a hair out of place. His body type is identical to Thay's though his hands are also perfectly manicured.
Bio: Chronos is the lord and Magister of the small city-state of Thay. He combines his political influence with his arcane power in the secret arts to win the love of the people and respect of his enemies. He is the most powerful practitioner of the arts in the neighboring kingdoms and he is well aware of this fact. He is usually bored with the day to day affaris of his state, but occasionally takes true joy in his work. He is a master strategist and truly enjoys the art of war, though not enough to make his nation overly aggressive. His true joy is the time he spends with his companions hunting or engaged in stimulating conversation. Much like Thay, his is truly a social person, but his overwhelmingly confidant demeanor and rough-around-the-edges personality make him a hard person to like initially.




OOC: Just so we're all clear, we'll already know each other in the real world, and then meet again in the alternate one. The charcters should be reasonably similar in demeanor, but can vary as you wish on actual life. This is above all a journey of discovery for these two, and they're to take the lessons they find in the alternate world back with them to the real one.

Nicky    FINALLY ACK!!!!!

Present Self:
Name: Piper Fleming
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Description: Her shoulder length hair is bright orange, thick, curly and frizzy. She will often pull it back into a pony tail, but other times she will just let it hang about her face and neck in spiraling ringlets. There are random streaks of blue and purple in her hair as well. Her large, oval eyes are brown and gold framed by very exceptionally thick eyelashes and set evenly apart on her face beneath a pair of light eyebrows. Wears heavy eyeliner and piles on the mascara, making her already thick eyelashes appear almost fake. Has a cute face, with cute features, though not strikingly beautiful, completely with an upturned nose, a dash of freckles, and a wide mouth with full lips. She is also freckled, and tries to hide it with face make-up. Her wardrobe gives off an artsy feel and she has a dancer’s body.
Personality: Piper is an over-analyzer, a deep-thinker, and a planner. She is high-strung and over-emotional. An angry person, she harbors a lot of wrath. A bit of a problem-child, she has been circulated through countless foster parents and has only recently gotten out of Juvenile Hall for shop lifting and other federal offenses. Loves to dance, which is the only true way that she finds she can express herself.
Bio: Piper was taken away from her abusive father when she was six. Since then she had been rejected by several foster parents for various reasons, not all of them being her own fault. The constant changes have left the girl mistrustful and unwilling to let her self become too sentimental or emotionally-attached to anyone or thing. For this reason, she does not become close to her foster parents and she does not make friends easily because she fears she will lose them. Because her world is constantly shifting, she feels little security and has little faith in people. It’s made her tough and hardened, almost numb. The only anchor in the girl’s life is her dancing.

Alternate Persona:

Name: Reagan the Reckless
Age: She appears to be in her late twenties. Actual age is 99, which is like a 20-something year old human.
Description: Part forest Nymph and part human, she is unnaturally beautiful. Her hair is long, straight, and black, usually plaited into a long whip-like braid, her eyes large and usually turquoise blue, though they change with mood or condition (for example, their color dulls when she is sick or weak, and if she were to die, they would loose all color completely). Soft, pale skin, blemish-free. Heart-shaped face, with pink cupid-lips and a slender nose. Her ears are pointed, but their points are not quite as prominent as that of the average Nymph. She is also taller than the average Nymph, being part human. She is reasonably skilled in her use of magic, though not strong, and it is mostly limited to that of the manipulation of plants, being part forest Nymph. She does not have the same depth of connection that other forest Nymph’s have with the forest and is therefore less bound to it. Is usually garbed in black glowing robes and will sometimes wrap her self in a black shall-like headdress to conceal her face.
Bio: Banished the Forest Kingdom for being a mixed breed, in spite of her royal ties, Reagan was forced to move into the city-state of Thay, where she has made a life and a name for herself in the city-state’s criminal underworld. She is a “queen of thieves”, having founded her own ring of pick-pockets, con-artists, and the like. Little is known about her than that. (Also I don’t feel like writing more…) Nymphs are supposed to have a kind of power over the opposite sex, but Reagon's human lineage dillutes this ability.


Albireo Dreamweaver    OOC: Wow, that was easier then I thought it'd be.

The breeze stirred lovingly through the window, brushing aside the curtains softly as it entered the bedroom, bringing it’s chill with it. It ruffled the papers on the ancient looking desk on it’s way towards the massive four poster bed and it’s inhabitant. It slipped through the bed’s curtains and the softly caressed the man inside’s cheek. He stirred slightly and turned over, yawning. The room was completely silent except for the soft whisper of the wind and the subtle clanging of the morning sun peeking through the curtains. Suddenly, the peace was interrupted as the door to the chamber was slammed open and a thin ghost of a woman entered, shouting as she did.

“CHRONOS! Do you have any idea what time it is?” She roared at the still figure in the bed. He groaned, turned over and put a pilllow over his ears.
“Do you expect this kingdom to rule itself? Because I have news for you, it’s not going to! Now get up! You’re wasting the day away!”
Chronos groaned again, and this time threw the pillow at the young woman, who deftly caught it and threw it straight back, hitting Chronos straight in the face. He sat up smiling, and gave the woman a crooked grin.
“What on earth would I do without you here Allaria?”
“I imagine you’d sleep yourself into your grave, you pathetic, wretch, and worthless good for nothing.”
Chronos mimicked being stabbed as he said, “ Oh you wound me Allaria. Whatever did I do to deserve such disrespect from my chamberlain?”
“I imagine sending me to tell the peasants council that you wouldn’t be able to attend their meeting because you’re too busy…what was it this time? Concocting the answer to all life’s problems?” She sniffed the air and blanched. “Smells more like drowning out your own in an alcohol induced stupor.”
“You’d be surprised what you find in one of those.” He shot back as he finger combed his unruly hair that shone gold in the beams of sunlight. He yawned again, stretched out, then rose and moved to his wardrobe. “What do you think Allaria? Should I wear the Red ones today, or maybe the white ones…Gah, I hate choosing my robe in the morning.”
“Red one.”
“Thank you, you’re such a doll.” He flashed her another crooked grin, to which she only rolled her eyes. He threw off his nightgown, ignoring her presence just as she seemed to ignore his muscular build and handsome features. Slowly and meticulously, he began to put on his robes that deemed him as magister, the most powerful man in this entire kingdom. The ruler of it, in fact. As he dressed, Alaria went to the window and threw open the curtains, allowing morning’s light in. In a moment Chronos joined her by the window and draped his arm over her shoulder. She flinched visibly, but didn’t move. Chronos just laughed and looked up at the clear sky.
“Did you ever wonder what’s out there? Like maybe there’s another place out up there with people like us just staring out and looking for someone to know them and understand them… Did you ever wonder what that might be like?”
“I’m amazed you can rule a kingdom with so many of those stupid ideas floating in your head.” She retorted, slipping out from under his arm quickly.
He smiled softly to himself as he turned to his desk. “I suppose you’re right…” He whispered as he sat down to the day’s work.
-----
Far, far away another person in a much different world, with a much different life, with a much different story was also just waking up. Theodore Alanni was asleep on one of the school benches, dozing through the lunch hour. His night had been a long one, with him up reading and writing into the late hour of the night, something that was starting to happen more and more frequently these days. He worked himself to death to try to escape his current life. He felt so trapped within everything. His family that was never there for him, his friends he didn’t have, and the peers that treated him like nothing. He just wanted to get way from it all, and so he escaped into worlds of fantasy.
The bell rang it’s atonal din, telling everyone that the next class was due to start. Thay awoke with a start, then yawned. He stood up and swept his backpack onto his back in a sweeping motion. Just one more class to go.

An hour later, Thay was leaving school. He walked alone through the halls on his way out, and somehow felt alienated from all the people around him. Alone in a crowd, he thought he’d heard that somewhere.
“Hey loser!”
Apparently not alone enough, he thought sarcastically as he turned around to meet his pursuers.
“Someone took my lunch money today! I was starving, and my buddy Fred here told me that you did it. Now pay up runt or we’ll beat your face in.”
Thay shook his head silently, then braced himself for what he knew was coming.
Ten minutes later he was laying facedown in the halls, his face bruised and bloody. I could just never get up, he thought to himself. This could be it, right here. I could just die here and then go on to see what comes next.
“Hey, you ok?”
Thay recognized the voice instantly, and smiled slightly as he did. He turned his head towards it, and sure enough he recognized the trademark orange hair and softly swaying waist as if always caught in dance that marked Piper Fleming. If he could be said to have a friend, it was her. It was kind of odd. Neither of them really fit in, so they naturally got along quite well.
“Yah, I’m just dandy. You can just run along home, cause I’m having a fine ball down here.” He managed to reply.
She laughed melodically, and he couldn’t help but join in.
“They do that to you a lot, don’t they?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you ever stand up to them?”
“Because I don’t want to…” He struggled to find the right words. “ People are secure in what they know and understand. If you change that, they fight and rebel against it. If I stood up to them, that’d be even worse. And I don’t really care. They’re too stupid to rob me after their done kicking the shit out of me.”
They both laughed again as he rose to his feet. They started to walk together out of the deserted school. Piper was humming a tune, and Thay was staring up into the cloudless sky.
“Did.. Did you ever wonder what’s out there? Like maybe there’s another place out up there with people like us just staring out and looking for someone to know them and understand them… Did you ever wonder what that might be like? To find a place like that, where…where.”
Where you could be happy is what he wanted to say, but thatsounded too silly even to him, and he didn’t want to alienate his only friend with his different way of thinking.
“Where things were different.” He finished, and then looked into Piper’s freckled face for an answer.


Nicky    
* * * * *


Piper considered the boy’s words, as the two of them silently crossed the mostly empty school parking lot, thankful for the silence and solitude. She was surprised by how specific his question had been.

Did you ever wonder what’s out there? Like maybe there’s another place out up there with people like us just staring out and looking for someone to know them and understand them…

She looked up at his face, half-startled when she realized he’d been gazing down at her. He was searching for something in her eyes; she could tell, she could feel it. He wanted to find some sort of mutual understanding. She could see he was serious, eager to hear her input, eager to see if she dared to think about such things. His expression was earnest, relaxed, patient, yet his gaze was intense, urging her to give up an honest answer to his utterly honest question. She found herself becoming distracted by the purple bruise on the side of his mouth, which seemed to be darken and expand even as she looked at it. Its presence on his otherwise clear, delicate face, angered her. Tomorrow, she vowed, I'm going to give them a piece of my mind. She took a deep breath to quell her rage, keeping it from flaring up and appearing on her face.

         Since the first day she'd met Theodore Alanni, Piper Fleming had felt an overwhelming obligation to protect him. It didn't matter that he was a year older than her and one grade ahead (though she swore he could skip farther ahead if he wanted...he was a genius). There floated about him an aura of fragility, of delicateness. Perhaps that was why so many people in this school avoided him like a disease. Perhaps they viewed him as a project, a chore, a high-maintenance nuisance that they just didn't want to spend the time or the energy on. Maybe they thought they would have to overcompensate for his handicapped self-esteem...or his physical handicap. Maybe they didn't want to get to close to a boy who had contracted polio when he was young...did they think he was contagious? Maybe being his friend, or even just being kind, decent to him would place him under their responsibility, something any average teenager is likely to have a natural aversion for. Or maybe their fears were even more selfish and cowardly than an aversion for responsibility. Some probably feared that taking him in as a friend would be like taking in a dog with fleas, afraid that they may have to share the same problems he faced. They selfishly guarded their pitiful, useless reputations, too ashamed to be seen with the gimpy, quiet guy everyone else picked on, unwilling to let themselves become coupled beneath the same title of infamy.

This much Piper at least partly understood, though it disgusted her to the very core. She herself had experienced this kind of rejection. Every new set of foster parents had dumped for one reason or the other, discarding her like garbage, scrapping her like damaged goods. No one seemed to want to take the time or expend the energy it would take to try and fix her, or at least try to accept her for who she was.

But, why...why people would pick on, much less physically beat on this boy was far, far beyond her understanding. How cruel and low would a human being half to be to attack someone like Thay? He avoiding him, disregarding him, ignoring him was bad enough...was it really necessary to out right attack him? And he didn't even fight back. He'd never even provoked that kind of treatment to begin with. The more she thought about it the more sense his words meant.

Did you ever wonder what that might be like? To find a place like that...

         Where things were different.

There had been a sense of longing and melancholy that saturated those words, and she could hear it even now as she replayed them in her head. The sound was all too familiar, sickeningly familiar. It had always troubled Piper to hear Theodore talk in such a way...it revealed his longing...longing to belong. It reminded her of her own such longing. They were both so out of place, but for very different reasons. Piper wondered if Thay had realized this for himself yet. If he'd realized how very alike they both were.

One thing was for certain, he wasn't asking your average theoretical “what-if” question. She could tell by the sound of his voice and the weight of his words that he had been giving this very subject some considerable thought for a long time now. He's just been waiting to find the right person to discuss it with. He was sharing with her a kind of dream of his, one he carried with him always. A fantasy he was partly ashamed of, but wished desperately to share with someone else in hopes that perhaps they had dreamed the same dream. She was hesitant in responding, unsure of how she should formulate her answer to such a question. She tried to allow herself a moment before answering the question.

         She found herself watching his face again, still analyzing his expression, his flat, brown, honest eyes, peering out at her from between stray strands of straight brown hair. His mouth, once a tight line, was beginning to twist into a kind of grimace and suddenly he seemed to be wincing, as if embarrassed. Regret was written all over his face in an instant. He seemed like he wished he could take back his words, like he should have kept his thoughts to himself. This sounded an alarm in Piper's head as she realized just how long she'd waited to answer his question. She looked down at the gravel now, realizing that the two of them had stopped directly in the middle of the parking lot, but she felt no alarm. There were no longer any cars coming or going and therefore no reason to step off to the side. He was probably thinking now that she thought he was crazy or weird. She hastily spoke up.

"Sure, I wonder about that," she exclaimed. Then she added, softly, "All the time..."

She was surprised when she realized that this statement was utterly true.

“Yeah?" His voice sounded distracted, far off, like his mind was elsewhere, somewhere far, far away. His face and tone of voice was filled with a kind of mystical, child-like wonder and Piper found that his wonder was overwhelmingly contagious. She found herself looking up herself and was suddenly captivated by the vast blue dome overhead.

"Well...what do you think?"

Piper was losing herself in the sky, her mind flying through space, surfing through far off, imaginary galaxies, passing super novas and star constellations on the way...Thay had startled her. Once again he'd managed to help her remember what it was like to dream. This boy had changed her. At first, she'd just thought she was lucky to have him because he was the only one who would accept her. Even when she'd decided to start protecting him, she hadn't really planned on actually becoming his friend. At first she, too, had viewed him as a project, a mission, one she took on willingly, desperate for anything to keep her busy and to ensure her some company if she needed it. But, what she hadn't expected, was to really get to know Thay...much less for him to have the affect he had on her. He'd softened her. She wasn't usually soft around people; only with Thay. She liked him. Maybe if people spent the time to get to know him, they'd like him to.

"About what?" she said, briefly forgetting what they'd been talking about.

"About...you know...out there?"

"Oh!"

"Don't you wish...? Aaah...just forget it..." He chuckled darkly, a storm cloud suddenly passing over his face, twisting it into a brooding frown. "Let's get out of here before it gets late..."

He started walking, favoring his right leg as always.

"No, no...um..." She skipped a little to catch up. "I mean...that'd be cool...another universe, an alternate reality...with people like us, but different." She was rambling.

"You think so?" his face didn't change "Well...anyway...I lost my point."

They were silent the rest of the way, the echoes of their footsteps audible as they approached the pale blue Prius Piper’s current foster parents had reluctantly allowed her to borrow as transportation to and from school. She’d been giving Thay rides home off and on throughout the school year now. He had his own car, and a nice one at that, but considering his condition…Piper didn’t like the idea of letting him drive if she was perfect capable of giving him a lift herself.

“You know you don’t have to do this…” he muttered as he slammed his door shut.

Piper ignored him, catching her reflection in the open drop-down mirror above her dash board. She studied her make-up, her hair, wondering why, in all her attempts to stand out, she always seemed so…run-of-the-mill. So boring.

“Stop that.” The voice was soft and gentle as always. The image of herself disappeared in a flash as the mirror was suddenly slapped shut by Thay’s out-reached hand.
“You girls and your vanity…”

Piper smirked and gave Thay a light punch on the shoulder.

* * * * *


Reagan sucked in an impatient breath, suffocated by the room’s hazy atmosphere which stunk of alcohol, vomit, and smoke. The dark dank tavern was overcrowded with large, sweaty, boisterous men, crammed elbow to elbow about the round, wooden table in the far corner of the room, upon which a heated card game had carried on far too long into the night.

Tristan didn’t seem to know when to quit. Reagan had given him the signal to back out long ago, but the imbecile was deliberately disobeying orders. The broad-shouldered man sat at the table hunched over his deck, defiance and determination written all over his face. Greed had over taken him, and even though he’d managed to win…well cheat more than a thousand chips from his fellow players, he’d decided to keep going. There was no stopping him now. Reagan refused to help assist him any further. The dwarf, Markus, was still helping him out, feeding him cards, but she could see the concern in the little fellow tiny eyes. Once in a while he would give the signal, or other variations so as to not give away his cover, now and then, but nothing deterred the fat-headed fool. He just kept stroking what little peach fuzz had managed to collect on his mostly bare chin. Eventually he’d realized his folly, but by then it would be too late.

Reagan bored her eyes into Tristan, unblinking. She hoped maybe she could scare him into folding, but she already new it didn’t matter. He would soon loose all the money he’d managed to wrack up thus far. Her eyes must have turned blood red with rage by now, and she was sure her pale cheeks were flushed with fury. She tried not to look up at the staunch and infuriatingly smug Minotaur leaning on the bar next to her. She could feel the chuckles rumbling up and down his enormous rib-caged like earthquakes. Torgon had been right again, of course, and, as usual, he wouldn’t let Rea forget it.

“I hate to say it, Rea, my dear, but…I told you so.” His voice was rough, deep, and loud. It was not unlike a bugle horn.

She shot him a fiery glance, his huge bull-head still a long way up from where she sat, forcing her to turn her whole face up to look at him.

         Torgon had warned it was a gamble to let Tristan play tonight. The man, still more boy than man, was only nineteen and his callowness was starting to show. The kid had talent, raw talent. That was the reason the beautiful half-nymph had chosen him for the job in the first place. She just felt that his potential should be recognized, and, besides that, she’d been promising to let him try out his skills doing the real thing; he was getting bored with pilfering wealthy travelers. It also just so happened that Rea found the boy devastatingly attractive…and well…that counted a few points in his favor. But all that charm and skill wasn’t going to be enough to get him out of this mess. At the rate he was going, they may even catch him cheating. And, should he slip up, there was no doubt there’d be trouble and, though Tristan was tough and a merciless fighter, he’d be no match for the group of blood-thirsty thugs that surrounded him now. That was the only thing that kept Rea and Torgan from ditching the place. If there was trouble, Torgan could settle the dispute and get Tristan and Markus out of there before there was a bloodbath.

The beast was still gloating.

“Yes you've really done it this time, Rea. Haha! Guess they don't call you "Reagan the Reckless" for nothing, right? Mark me words, one of these days they'ed going to catch up and lock you up for good. Put you in a place deep down where you can't bewitch 'em with those eyes of yours...Oh...uh oh...it appears that your...*ahem* beau is in a bit of trouble…”

“He is not my beau, Torgan!" Reagan exploded. "And if he even so much as thinks---wait…what? What was that? What’s wrong?!”

She'd been brooding so deeply that she'd stopped paying attention to the game. She hadn't even noticed the sudden uproar of commotion that had exploded about the table until now. She looked just in time to see the table turn over. Clearly, Tristan had been found out. Utter chaos ensued. The crowd of men, now all standing and appearing much taller and larger on foot, were roaring like a pack of lions.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

The bull-man stood and shouldered his way through the mob.

Reagan sighed and rolled her eyes, then got up from her stool and slipped out the door into the cool night, eager to escape the disgusting place.

Sometimes humans made her sick…she was ashamed to be part human. What her mother had saw in a human male had always been beyond her. She was looking up at the sky now, a black dome filled with little white specks of light, wondering what mysteries lay among them.

"Makes you wonder, eh miss?"

Startled, Reagan tightened the black shroud she had wrapped around her face to make sure her identity remained concealed.

She turned her piercing gaze on the little tavern boy sitting on the steps to the tavern, cleaning a glass while he looked up stary-eyed with wonder as he gazed into the dark sky. His eyes suddenly met hers and he smiled, obviously unaware that the beautiful woman standing before him was one of the most successful and most badly wanted criminals in the land.

"Wonder about what?" she asked, honestly curious as to what this peculiar little boy was talking about.

"About what's out there," he said, indicating the sky. He spoke as if his question had been completely obvious and could be simply answered. "You know, like maybe some another place---a very different place from this---out up there with people like us...staring out right back at us and askin' themselves the same thing?"

Such peculiar words to come out of such a young boy. It sent a chill down the half-nymph's spine. And she didn't like it.

"Of course not!" Reagan spluttered immediately. She'd half yelled at the boy and he was visibly surprised. She turned away from him.

"Of course not..." she was muttering to herself now, "What a perposterous notion..."

When she turned back to glance at the strange little youngster, he was gone. The glass he'd been cleaning remained there on the wooden step but he boy was no where in sight. There was a rustling in the bushes near by. A mangy grey cat emerged and darted past
Reagan, making her skirts flutter in its wake.

She immediately forgot the boy and the cat when the tavern door suddenly burst open, spitting out a Minotour, a broad-shouldered, rather handsom human, and a littled red-headed dawf.

"We've got to go! Thay's Rangers are here and their looking for you, Reagan!"

* * * * *



Albireo Dreamweaver     “Sir Chronos?!” The startled ranger sputtered as his liege lord suddenly materialized in front of him, wearing the same immaculate red robes he was wearing earlier that morning.

“Good evening Captain. I hear we have a manhunt on our hands?”

“Yes...sir. We search for the self-styled lord of the underground, Reagan the Reckless, sir. The Jolly Lobster reports having had a tavern brawl start over someone allegedly cheating at cards. After a minotaur known to be a compatriot of hers stepped in to stop the fight, we suspected she was likely nearby. Our troops have covered all the exits, and we were about to start going through the town for her.”

Chronos smirked and dashed his hair to the side before cracking his knuckles in front of him. A manhunt, huh? Or should he say, a womanhunt. He hadn't had an excuse to have this much fun since that kobold warband attacked the city.

“Captain!”
“Sir!”
“Keep all the exits sealed, but keep your men out of the area. I'm going to find her.”
“Sir? Is that wise? She is a hardened criminal after all. Are you sure you can fight her alone.”
“And I'm the Magister of Thay, any questions?”

The guard stepped back a foot, clearly at a loss, then saluted as Thay twirled his cloak and took of down the street.

Rain. It was everywhere. The cold night had slowly devolved into a windstorm, and only Chronos' innate magic kept him from being instantly soaked through. He even chuckled as he stepped through a mud pit and his boot came back up, free of dirt. Such is necessary for a ruler, to look perfect and vain at every moment. Chronos chuckled at the thought, then turned his gaze heaven-ward. Not even he could see the stars through the thick cover of clouds raining down heavens tears. He allowed his mind a moment, just a moment to wander back to what he had said that morning.

Another world... I wonder what it would be like?

Only Chronos' quick reflexes saved him from dying while in his reverie. Suddenly he found an axe swinging through the air where his body had been before it decided it didn't want to be there anymore. Wielding the axe was a rather large Minotaur. Puffs of smoke poured from it's nostrils as it advanced on the seemingly helpless Magister.

“Well it looks like I'm just gong to have tons of fun tonight! At least try to make it interesting ok?”

With that, Chronos waved his hand and a rapier began to coalesce there, just in time to knock the minotaur's next downward cleave just far enough out of the way for it to miss. Chronos took a small leap backwards, giving himself some distance from the enraged Minotaur. A primal roar filled the empty streets as the Minotaur charged at Chronos and tried to cut him in half with one huge sweep of his axe. Chronos nimbly ducked underneath it and rolled at the Minotaur and through his legs, cutting the hamstring on the right one as he did. The minotaur overbalanced from his swing, and fell backwards as he found his right leg suddenly not ble to support him. The axe flew from his fingers and embedded himself deep into dirt. With another wave of his hand, Chronos dismissed his ethereal blade, even as the Minotaur bellowed his defiance and stood, about to charge at Chronos.
“Oh you're such a bore...Just stand still why don't you?”

The last words were followed by a quick arcane chant beneath the breath, and instantly a blue ray shot forth from Chronos' outstretched palm and struck the Minotaur directly in the chest. At once, the Minotaur froze comically in place, with his horns still tilted forward ready for a charge and everything.

“You'd make a good statue like that, unfortunately, I just don't have time for you now, now where is she? Bah, I didn't want to have to do this, but I guess it's time I took some fun out of it and got serious.”

Once again Chronos' words were accompanied by an arcane chant, though this one was much longer then that last. As the chant increased int tempo and pitch, a white glow started to emanate from Chronos and slowly crept through the streets, lighting the way to Chronos' pray. Chronos followed the path, still chanting beneath his breath as he did.

Chronos was surprised to find that the girl really hadn't traveled that far from the scene of her “crime”. The pathway led him only a couple of blocks from the tavern and to the cellar of another house.

“Well of course you'd have a safehouse. Wouldn't be much fun with out it, now would it?”

Chronos reached to door to the cellar, and with a flourish triumphantly pulled it open.
Or nearly broke his arm off trying at least, as he found the cellar door was locked fast.

“Of course she'd of locked it you idiot...” he muttered as he massaged his shoulder, gently trying to numb the pain away without using any of his magical strength.

“Well I always loved doing stuff like this!” And once again he flew into a brief chant s he stepped slowly away from the cellar door. As he reached his crescendo a ball of flame shot from his finger and hit the door, where it exploded and blasted the door back inwards. Chronos dashed in, summoning his sword again as he encountered two shocked guards. He cut them both down before they could even react to his presence. But he missed the third, who ran down a secret corridor yelling as he went “The Magister, the Magister is here!”. A thought and a quick chant silenced the man's voice forever.

“Thanks for showing me the way in old chap.” Chronos cheerfully quipped as he passed the now mute and incapacitated guard in the secret passageway. The passage was short, and at the end of it was a crude-looking door, which Chronos immediately knew was much more than it seemed. IT was much sturdier then the dirt-crusted interior would let on to, and it's lock was probably one of the most complicated systems Chronos had ever seen.

“Trust thieves to make a door no thief can get through...However, all doors have one weakness! BAM!”

Once again a blast of fire blew the door in backwards, and Chronos charged in. The room was small and circular, and occupied by only three people, two more alert-looking guards, and one woman who had her back turned to the doorway. Chrono's was about to make a quip as the first guard swung his sword in a motion that would of cut Chronos from neck to hip had his blade suddenly been there to deflect it. A quick return thrust put the guard back on his heels, and Chronos made short work of him from there. The second guard was more cautious and stayed back from the dangerous looking opponent, but that served him no better as a quick chant simply froze him in place like the Minotaur before him.

“Now that all the distractions are out of the way...”

Chronos walked behind the woman, and put his hand on her shoulder. He stopped for a moment, suddenly thoughtful, then pulled her around to face him. The first thing he noticed was that the reports of her beauty were not exaggerated in the least, she was in fact, stunning, and that by itself actually caused him to take a step back.

“Reagan the...erm...reckless, you are...umm...under arrest..for crimes against the state...and erm...Would you like to go have some dinner sometime?”

* * *

Thay slammed shut the car door as he reached got out of the car and prepared himself for the ordeal of going into his home. He remembered to turn and wave at Piper as she drove off, then turned sullenly back towards his home. The driveway told him all that he needed to know. Alone. Again. He suddenly had the urge to call Piper and ask if he could go with her, but he dismissed it as silly. And it was. She may be like a friend, but Thay knew that a request like that was something that could be misconstrued, badly misconstrued. So he hobbled up the path to his home, his fortress, his prison. He supposed he should count himself fortunate. His house was the prettiest on the block, and his parents were probably the richest people on this side of town. So why didn't he feel fortunate? Was he being ungrateful to them? No, Thay decided, because in all their riches they did leave him behind too many times to think that him feeling neglected was ungrateful.

Thay paused briefly in his ordeal to stop at the mail slot. Full, as usual, and none of it for him, also as usual. Thay wondered why he even bothered. He left the mail where it was as he unlocked his door and entered his sumptuous home.

As much as he hated this place, he found that he still always had to stop for a moment in the entrance way and admire it's beauty. The marble floor alternated between black and white to create an intricate pattern on the floor. High above a crystal chandelier hung, it's light illuminating the whole of the room. A staircase wound itself around the walls, a staircase that led to he family's rooms. Flanking the stairway were two statues of important looking men that Thay had no name for. Ironic, he thought, that they were important enough to have a statue of themselves,l but not important enough for people to remember who that statue was of.

Slowly Thay made his way to the staircase. AS he mounted it, his leg spasmed, and he collapsed to the ground, crying out in agony. He lay there for a few long moments, writhing from the pain, wishing that it would just all end. And then, as suddenly as it came ,it passed. Thay lay on the ground a few minutes more, terrified of what was happening to him. The spasms had been more frequent now then they had ever been. He still had managed to keep that fact from Piper, but he knew his luck would run out one day. He could almost see her face, full of worry and concern, and that both angered and pleased him. That someone should care meant a lot to him, but he was angry for himself for what he knew he took out of her.

“Dammit, she doesn't have to protect me!” He cried out as he punched the wall. The impact nearly broke his wrist, but he didn't feel it. Tears were starting to run down his face as he wished, as he wished every night, that things could just be different. That something could change.

As usual, the heavens were silent.

Well, it was good someone cared about him, Thay thought as he climbed the stairs laboriously. His parents sure didn't, he thought bitterly. Why else would they put his room on the second floor when they knew it was a terrible burden for him to climb stairs? It wasn't that they disliked him, they just rarely thought about him. It hadn't always been like that, back when he had been healthy and whole and normal. But as he lost physical ability and became more distant emotionally, so too did their affections seem to dry up. Whatever the case, they really went out of their way for him, except to make sure he never really lived in want. Not that they could give him any of the things he really wanted, he though as he flopped down on his bed, miserable already. His gaze drifted through his room, past the posters of bands, of teams, past his never-on television, past his closet and mirrors, to his desk. His gaze rested firmly on a book sitting there. It was old beyond belief, it's bindings cracked and coming apart at the seams.

Another world...

Again the pain came, and again Thay cried out as he gripped his pillow for comfort. This one was longer, the pain more intense. Finally it ended, leaving Thay a sweating, crying mass on the floor of his room. He had fallen from his bed, and that only served to make the pain worse. He climbed back up the bed, and this time gazed out the window. Rain was forming, hiding the stars beyond, but Thay knew they were there. They were always there. He looked back at the book once more. He was afraid to touch it alone, because what if something happened? He needed someone else, someone with him to help him and make sure he...

What was he talking about? It's not like the book was magic or anything. He rose with a grunt, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He shot off a text in a moment, then sat back and waited for the reply. The vibration of his phone woke him from his dozing a few minutes later. He flipped his phone open, smiled, then headed out the door and to his car.




{From: Piper
To: 6740295864

Sure I'll go. See you there in a few.

Original message:
From:6740295864
To: Piper

Night sucks. Alone again. Want to go hang out and get something to eat at the usual place? I could use some burgers... }




Nicky    
* * * * *


The car was still running as the passenger door slammed shut. Immediately the atmosphere inside the vehicle became very quiet...alone. Piper watched Thay limp silently onto the curb.

         No matter how many times Piper stopped by, she couldn't help but feel small, and a little envious, as she drove through the gated community Thay and his parents lived in, and she only felt smaller parked in front of his house, it being one of the, if not the, grandest on the block. It was big and white, expensive and new, with a long stone-paved drive-way and a lush green lawn, a lawn that seemed miles long to Piper when ever she watched Thay walk across it, his saunter slow and careful in its progression.

         Piper tapped her black-tipped finger nails on the vinyl-covered steering wheel and bit her lip, her foot hesitantly pressed against the gas petal. She always felt like maybe she should wait for him. Like she should stay and watch him walk all the way up to those front steps…wait until he stepped up onto his porch, opened the front door and slipped safely inside. That way she could be sure. Sure that just in case...if anything were to...happen...she'd be there...

It seemed irresponsible not to wait, considering his condition.

         She used to wait. She’d sit there, car idling by the curb, watching him walk all the way up the driveway at his own, only slightly labored pace, driving away only after she was sure he was okay. But she’d abandoned that practice about the third or second ride home.

         He didn't seem to need it...or perhaps it was more that he didn't seem to want it. As dependent as he seemed to be physically and socially…Piper could see his desire to be independent…or to at least find some kind of security in his independence. He was seventeen for goodness sake. In about a year he'd be legally considered an adult. He was mature beyond his years, sharp, and a lot more able to handle himself than Piper gave him credit. The last thing she wanted was to insult him...and to try and protect him any further would do just that. He already hated it when she gave him rides. How would he feel if she hung back every time to make sure he could make it to his front door on his own? She had to trust him, the way he trusted her.

         As these thoughts swam around Piper's head, she almost didn't notice Thay turn and wave at her, his face calm and unreadable. Piper had already begun pulling away from the curve, clumsily mimicking the gesture, though she doubted the boy standing stoically in her rear view mirror could see it.

         Piper hardly noticed the large houses crawl slowly by her window as she drove down the winding road that would eventually lead her to the large gates through which cars entered and exited. The sun was steadily disappearing behind a cloudy blanket of grey gloom, sending the world outside of Piper's little Prius into an early, dull twilight. It was as if someone had laid a bluish-grey film over the car’s windows, making all colors outside appear duller and all light to dim.

         Piper tried to feel comforted by the silence, by the purr of the car's engine, but she already knew what she was in for. She could already feel it...feel herself slipping. There was a darkness that always seemed to lie in wait for her at the end of the day, and there was no escape from its trap. It would wait for her to be alone, after school was over, after Thay, the only person she could ever really call her friend, had gone home. Piper hadn't ever really been able to put a name to it. All she knew was that she'd learned to accept it a long time ago. Perhaps this was what psychologists referred to when they diagnosed depression. Was she depressed? It was the only word that seemed fit to describe the dark mood she found herself in every time she came home, wherever that was.

         Once she’d gotten out of the residential area, the grey world began to slip faster and faster past her, obscuring into a muddled assortment of smudged images. As she glanced at them, she felt no nostalgia, no familiarity, no comfort. She had no claim to any of it. No part of this city marked it as her city, the city she lived in. None of it had the markings of home. None of it. The school, the city, the house, the bedroom, the parents...none of it ever seemed to be truly hers...and just as none of this belonged to her so did she not belong to it. No square inch of it was home, no matter how hard she tried to pretend it was.

The last memory she had of…home…was faded now, distorted, like an old photograph.

         She remembered a woman with long, wild orange hair that was never quite tamed, spilling out over her shoulders. Piper remembered the feel of her soft nightgown, the warm touch of her fingers, the safe feeling she felt as she sat curled up in her lap. She remembered a white room and a long, echoing hallway that led to it. She remembered walking down that hallway with her tiny hand buried in the firm grasp of a tall, dark, shadowy figure, skipping along the way to try and match his pace. She remembered passing nurses and doctors dressed in scrubs and white coats. She remembered that she had never been interested enough to look up at their faces, but she’d always noticed how quickly their legs moved as they walked, all seeming to hurry this way or that.

         This place…this was place was obviously not home…but the red-haired woman in the soft nightgown had begun living here a year after Piper had turned four. Piper didn’t live here, but the red-haired woman did…and where ever she was, home was. It was the only memory Piper had of her mother and her mother was the most real memory she had of home.

         But the woman was faceless. Piper didn’t have any physical pictures of this lovely, delicate woman, wasting away in her hospital bed, no material evidence. She only had a picture in her mind; a mental photograph, and a faded photograph at that, one that seemed to be missing pieces. Any details of her face had seemed to be the first pieces of the puzzled to slip away from Piper’s memory, fading and tarnishing until it was a faint blur. It was as if someone had taken the mental photograph of her mother and smudged out her face with an acidic thumb print.

         As the darkness consumed her, the depression settling in, an unwelcome guest making its self perfectly comfortable inside her chest, Piper tried to remember the last time she’d cried. She couldn’t remember. Couldn’t even remember what it felt like, much less how to do it. Right now, for some reason, she wanted very badly to be able to cry. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t even force herself to.

         The depression was so steady, so unchanging. It was like the pinch of a needle. The pain never ebbed or pulsed. It would just slowly expand until it was just a constant stinging that wouldn’t end until someone pulled the darn needle out of her arm…or perhaps a better analogy would be the thorn in her heart.

         She thought that if she could only just cry, even a little bit, that maybe some of the pain would leak out through her eyes along with her salty tears. But the pain was never quite sharp enough to make her tear up, yet not quite dull enough for her to really ignore it or set it aside as a minor disturbance that was sure to pass soon. It was just an annoyingly persistent discomfort that she knew she would have to live with for the next few hours. Piper already knew she was in for another sleepless night.

         She could hear the soft pitter-patter of rain falling on the roof of her car as she pulled up into the short drive-way that lead up to the pale-yellow, 1950’s house, half-hidden beneath the overhanging arbors of a rather invasive maple tree. The quaint house lay smack dab in the middle of Kennedy Street with a row of similar-looking houses evenly flanking its left and right. This was the small, yet pleasant, home of Reese and Donna Cavers. They were a pleasant, fairly young couple, somewhere in their mid or late thirties.

         Whatever made these people think they had what it took to foster and potentially adopt and raise a sixteen year old was beyond Piper, but they hadn’t quite proven her right yet. All she knew was that they were terribly clean people, very reserved, and…well…a bit afraid of her it seemed. They always seemed to approach her timidly, showering her with politeness and welcoming, but she could see the fear, the anxiety in their eyes. They had doubtlessly been informed of her reputation and they treated her like a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later she’d blow up, they assumed, but perhaps, if they handled her with extremely delicate care, they could postpone the catastrophe…perhaps they could even disarm her.

         Piper appreciated their efforts, but she regarded them with the same level of care and caution. She too anticipated catastrophe, the eventual detonation of an armed bomb. Eventually they’d get sick of holding up the façade. Or perhaps, as chance would have it, she’d slip up before they even had a chance to give up pretending to care about her. Eventually she’d scare them off and then they’d have a legitimate excuse for giving up on her. Or maybe she wouldn’t have to actually do anything bad. Maybe if she just opened up a little…if she unloaded all the baggage she carried inside her….

She felt like eventually her chest would eventually just burst open, spilling all its dark contents, all her twisted, ugly issues with abandonment, self-control, and anger-management, her grudges, her fears, her distrust, her emotional instability…

         Once that happened, it would be the end. There would be no way a couple of clean freak, quiet, no-nonsense folk moved in from South Carolina like Reese and Dona would be able to coup with that kind of mess spilt on their spotless life. They would politely ask the social worker to remove the beastly teenager from there property and ask for a baby.

         It didn’t matter, anyway, Piper thought. Not anymore, at least. She was sixteen. Wasn’t she a little old to still be searching for parents to adopt her? Could a person retire from the occupation of “foster child”? Could she formally withdraw from the search for a pair of loving guardians to take her in as there own? If one could do that, maybe sixteen would be a good age to do so…or at least consider it. Who wants to adopt a sixteen year old anyway?

Apparently Reese and Dona Cavers did.

“Piper, honey?”

         The lilting voice somehow found its way through the sound barrier that separated the interior of the now parked car from the outside world. The sound woke Piper from her reverie in an instant, causing her head to snap automatically in the direction from which the sound came. She gazed dumbly through the water-streaked windshield at the tired-looking woman standing on the porch of the pale yellow house. Looking through the murky, water-drenched car window, she looked like a figure taken from an impressionistic painting, a collection of water colored paint splotches forming the image of a woman. She had her hands tucked into the crooks of her elbows, arms crossed tightly across her chest, a white, fleece night-robe draped over her shoulders.

         How long had Piper been sitting there parked in the driveway now? As she stared at the downpour outside, she remembered that she hadn’t brought a decent jacket or an umbrella. She hadn’t thought she’d need one. It was mid spring now and the days had been mostly clear, as today was. This shower came out of nowhere.

         Piper’s hand hesitated on the door handle. With a quick deep breath, she shoved open the door, her ears not entirely prepared as it was ambushed by the roaring sound of much large raindrops pelting the sidewalk, and darted out of the car. As she turned, about to close the door, little streams had already begun collecting around her black Converse shoes. She awkwardly lifted her forearm, in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to shield herself from the merciless wet onslaught, about to close the door when she remembered she’d left her backpack in the back seat. She quickly ducked back into the car, welcoming what few seconds of dryness she would find there, and grabbed her silver-star-covered backpack from out of the back seat. She came out again with the pack slung over her shoulder, and slammed the door, sending a spray of water off the car’s body, and tried to be quick as she ambled toward the porch’s beckoning orange light and promise of warm. The girl was already soaked through from head to toe by now. She was almost surprised Donna hadn’t brought a towel to the front door. She wasn’t going to like those nice wood floors she was so proud of getting wet.

         She smiled sheepishly as she mounted the creaky wooden steps. Dona smiled too, though it was slightly fake. She kept a polite distance, as usual. Four months still hadn’t seemed long enough for the two of them to get comfortable enough around each other to hug when they greeted. Not that that would have been an option right now anyway. Piper wouldn’t want to get her wet, and she knew Dona wouldn’t like that very much either.

“You okay, hon’?” She was asking, as Piper struggled to slip out of her water-logged shoes, hopping from foot to foot as she peeled off her sopping socks. The smile may have been fake, but the concern in her eyes and sound of her voice were genuine.

“What? Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Piper knew she sounded distracted. She kind of just spat the words out, rattling them off like a teacher reading the attendance in class. It was like a default message. She didn’t care that there was no truth grounding them.

“Well…” Dona’s hazel eyes shifted back to the Prius sitting in the rain. “You were sitting outside in your car for a long time…”

She seemed to be trying to draw something out of Piper. They were looking at each other now, Piper’s green eyes having failed in their attempt to avoid meeting Dona’s.

“Th-thanks…” she stuttered. She added calmly. “I guess…I guess I was just….zoning out.”

“Yeah…” Dona agreed politely.

         Dona smiled again, the little crow’s feet in the corner of her eyes and the lines around her mouth pulling taught for a moment and then relaxing again. That made Piper relax. She could see the relief in the woman’s eyes. But Piper had a feeling Dona was relieved not so much because “nothing was wrong” as much as because there wouldn’t have to be a big long, heart-to-heart, girl-talk tonight. She was too tired for that, it looked, and it was clear that neither Piper nor Dona really felt comfortable with having any serious, deep conversations with each other. It seemed that either that the proper time for that had not yet presented its self…or perhaps it had passed a long time ago. For the mean time, the skeletons would remain in their closets and the junk would remain comfortably cluttered inside its attic, collecting dust and probably accumulating overtime.

         Dona was a petite, thin woman, but not short. She was about a head taller than Piper. Her skin was very tan, visibly damaged by the sun, but she was still beautiful. She had a cute, small nose, pleasantly formed lips and long, golden blonde hair that she often kept in a pony tail. Piper envied her for her thinner, silkier hair, far easier to untangle (if it ever tangled at all) and far more manageable. Piper was lucky to get a brush through that mane of hers without breaking the handle off.

         The door was shut with a thud behind them and they stepped inside the warmth of the brightly lit house, Piper’s toes appreciating the smooth waxed feeling of the hardwood floor. She was surprised to discover that she wasn’t dripping anymore.

         The front door opened up almost right into a foyer which broke off into a reasonably sized family room. The stair case lay to the right with a short hallway running beside it staircase with a screen door at the end of it. The walls were a pale, rose pink color, the living room, a muted sea green.

         Reese was sitting in front of the TV, watching the sports channel. Reese’s had an even skin tone, reasonably lighter than his wife’s and far less damaged, with brown hair that had begun to sprout premature grays along the sides. His eyes were blue and flat, usually betraying little emotion. His hairline had receded a bit, making his forehead look bigger. He was a man of few words, letting his wife do the talking most of the time, though she said little herself. Piper had to admit they seemed a good match for each other. Perhaps too good of a match. The thing was, they were both so…bland. She would think that if you were one of those people who had no personality and was just kind of well…boring…you’d be itching to find someone who could throw a little spice into your life. It seemed like Dona brought a little bit of that spice to the table…but that was a painful overstatement.

Dona withdrew to the living room to sit with her husband, while Piper bolted up the carpeted stair steps, taking them two at a time.

         She practically sprinted to her bed room, swinging the door open and slipping inside into it in one fluid motion. She was eager for the solitude of the only place she felt she could at least pretend was her own.

         The room was mostly empty, its interior design neutral. Bare yellow walls, a little brighter than the yellow paint that coated the house’s exterior. An off-white comforter left disheveled in a heap at the foot of the twin-sized bed which lay in the center of the reasonably sized bed room beneath a three by four foot window that overlooked the driveway and the street in front of the house, though the view was partially obstructed by the oak tree’s leaves. Pillows lay scattered on the floor. Some of Piper’s clothing lay hanging out of the open drawers in the dresser beside the bed. There was a closet on the east side of the room, its door a sliding mirror that was now half open, revealing a dark little space in which T-shirts hung half-hazardly on their hangers. The room was comfortably messy, peacefully chaotic, looking almost, but not quite like the average artistic teenager. It would have been far worse if Piper had owned more. She didn’t have enough stuff to make it look really crazy. There was nothing in the room that really made it feel like it was hers. There were a small collection of posters pinned up on the west wall. Poster of dancers and not-well-known indie bands. She pinned them up every time she moved into a new home, hoping to make it feel more like it belonged to her. Most parents had taken them down or asked her to do so. But the Cavers never did.

         Dona had tried before to keep Piper’s room clean when she’d accepted that the teen wouldn’t do it herself. The messy room was another issue the Cavers had let go. They only once asked Piper to clean her room…and when she never did they hardly said a word. Piper would come home finding her room completely made up, everything put neatly in its place according to what Dona thought was it’s place (it was so messy and everything was so often out of place or in its improper place that she couldn’t have possibly known where Piper would have wanted it). But eventually she gave up, knowing that in less than a week all her efforts would be shot.

         Piper crossed the room, dropping her backpack on the floor with a heavy thud and plopping herself on her bed. She curled up into a semi-fetal position pulling the comforter up over her cold. She looked at the horizontal image of herself staring back from the mirror in front of her. She was scrutinizing her appearance again, as she assumed all other normal girls her age did, uncomfortably noting the imperfections, while satisfied by what positive details she did notice.

         She had to admit, she had a pretty nice body. Her metabolism was already naturally fast, but all the dancing she’d did in her spare time had given her some muscle without flattening out her curves. She liked the way her black jeans fit on her legs, giving them the spidery edgy look that she found so much fun, while creating an illusion that made them look longer. She wore a close-fitted T-shirt today, neo-colored, looking as though it had been splattered in paint. Over this was a small, black vest that looked a little more formal than the very casual T-shirt.

         Piper’s wardrobe was usually small, but always inventive and never boring. Her foster parents would take always her shopping while some would foolishly surprise her with a full closet of clothing that was either not her style or not her size. Sometimes she’d actually collect a very wide assortment of clothing, but she only ever kept what would fit in the only suit case she owned, a rather large, red one that rolled on wheels. It was lying on the floor in her closet, still containing a few of items of clothing that she hadn’t felt like putting away. She’d been living here for a while now, so she had a comfortable amount. She didn’t need a large wardrobe anyway. She’d long ago become suited to the life of a nomad, taking only the bare minimum as she jumped from home to home.

         Piper eyed her smudged makeup, wondering if she wore too much. Then she wondered if it mattered. It seemed like all girls wore a too much makeup these days. You could hardly tell the high schoolers and teeny boppers from the prostitutes. Black circles were under her eyes, smudged from the rain, making her look dead, vampire-like, as she sat there unmoving, unblinking. She didn’t like it. Not anymore. At first the make up had made her feel strong, safe, powerful, if not beautiful. It covered up the acne that had began to form around her temples, edges of her forehead and chin as well as those freckles she detested so very much. It made her already long eyelashes look unrealistically long and glamorous. The lip-gloss emphasized the cute shape of her rather small lips. It had been meant to be her mask, but, now that Piper had grown accustomed to it, she realized it meant nothing. It didn’t really make her feel better about herself anymore. It had been her last hope for saving her self-esteem, and it had failed. She could feel it. She could see it now, staring at those black, ugly circles. She finally had to turn away.

         She was startled when she felt her jean pocket vibrate, recognizing its shorter duration as the signal of a received text message. She sat up, already knowing who it was from as she dug the cheap, tiny, red flip-phone she’d bought with her own money out of her pocket. Only one person ever texted her.

Night sucks. Alone again. Want to go hang out and get something to eat at the usual place? I could use some burgers...

         A weak smile lifted the corner of Piper’s mouth. Alone again. Like her. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but the idea of ditching the ugly stack of trigonometry, chemistry and English homework still stuffed into her backpack for an hour at “Benji’s” with Thay was overwhelmingly tempting.

Her fingers tapped nimbly over the keypad. Even with what little texting Piper did, somehow she’d managed to become fairly good at it, and fast.

Sure I'll go. See you there in a few.

         She jumped out of the bed, precariously throwing the comforter completely off the bed, reaching the door in two and a half graceful strides, her movements dance-like in form. She went straight to the bathroom to clean off what was left of her ghastly make up. Though her face looked plain to her now, stripped its mascara, eyeliner, and foundation, its plainness was refreshing. Her face looked real again, sincere…vulnerable. She pulled back her hopelessly frazzled orange hair into a ponytail at the back of her neck. That was better. The moisture in the air had made it frizzier than usual and it was nice to have it out of her face.

         Piper put on some mismatched socks that had been lying on the floor, then spent all but five minutes searching for her pair of beat up Nike high tops. They reminded her of juvie, since they were the only shoes she owned at the time, but they were her favorite pair just the same. They never seemed to let her down, even in an ugly place like juvenile hall. As Piper laced up her shoes, she noticed that the black polish on her chewed-up fingernails had almost completely worn of. She was wondering when a good time to repaint them would be when it suddenly occurred to that the chances that Dona and Reese were going to be against the idea of letting her out on a school night were very high. Maybe she should bring her backpack, just in case. If they were under the impression that she was going out to eat and bringing homework a long; they were sure to be persuaded in letting her go. Piper knew they’d be relieved to have her out of the house, no matter how short of a time, so it wasn’t that they wanted her home. But, for some reason, they did care about her academics. They were those kind of people. They were the intellectual kind of people who highly valued education and the practice of shoving it down kid’s throats.

* * * * *


         Piper parked the Prius in front of the fifties-diner-esque building made of brick and concrete. It stood on its own, in all its ancient glory, in the midst of a strip mall parking lot, starkly contrasting with the bright, flashy new stores that surrounded it. Above the entrance was a surprisingly brightly lit sign that read “Benji’s” in big maroon letters fringed with gold, the colors all visibly dulled by age.

         The place wasn’t a huge successful chain like McDonald’s or Burger King. Just a whole-in-the-wall restaurant that had been around for ages, a family business passed down from generation to generation, Benji’s was a piece of this city’s history. The food, albeit greasy and horrifically bad for your cholesterol, was delicious and had been given an A by the health inspector. Better yet: it was cheap. But it wasn’t just the good food and prices that seemed to bring Piper and Thay here again and again for lunch or dinner, and sometimes breakfast. It was the obscurity of the place. The people who’d gone before never stopped, but there were still plenty of people who had not yet discovered this little diamond in the rough, this pearl in the proverbial oyster. They didn’t have to worry about running into anyone they knew, which was a good thing, since anyone Thay or Piper knew was either enemy or just a bad friend.

         Piper pushed the door open, hardly noticing the familiar clang of the bells hanging overhead. She hadn’t seen Thay’s car parked anywhere in the empty, wet parking lot. The place was mostly empty except for a group of college students crowded into one of the larger booths in the northwest corner of the room and a man alone at one of the tables quietly enjoying his meal. She stepped up to the counter and ordered for both herself and Thay, already knowing by now what he’d want. She then crossed quietly over to their usual booth, settled down and watched the rain outside, angry at herself for not asking Thay if he would need a ride. What if his polio was acting up again? Was it safe for him to drive in this kind of weather? She tapped her fingers on the table.

Her seat always happened to be the one that faced away from the door so, when she heard the bells jangle for a second time, she had to twist her body to see who had entered.

         Thay’s face was twisted into a kind of half-grimace as he seemed to be trying to smile. The hood of his jacket was pulled back, revealing his brown head of hair that always flipped to the side of his face in neat, smooth wisps framing his thin face, the fringe of which had gotten wet in spite of the hood’s shelter. He silently crossed the room, his shoes making wet squeaky sounds on the linoleum, his face visibly reacting to every step.

Piper could see him try to hide it, and he seemed to believe he was doing a good job of it, but she saw right through. He was hurting. His limp was as ragged and pronounced as ever.

         He came up to the table, casually apologizing for being late as he sat himself down into the plastic covered seat he always did, the one with the tears in the corner which just so happened be the seat that faced the door. He smiled easier now that he wasn’t on his feet. But he could see now that Piper wasn’t buying his performance. She stared at him, willing him to tell her the truth.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” she said seriously.

His smile was fading and his eyes were shifting elsewhere, as if trying to avoid the subject.

“So…did you already order?”

“Darn it, Thay. It’s alright. You can tell me. Did you hurt yourself?”
He winced.

She waited.

It seemed like he was trying to force it out, but he didn’t want to.

“Yeah…” he admitted softly. “But I’m okay, now, alright?” He sounded defensive.

Silence.

“Now, can we please talk about something else? I’m sick of talking about me. Let’s talk about you. How are you doing, Piper?” His words will curt, fast, angry-sounding. He seemed frustrated now, desperate to move on. Piper took the hint.

“Fine…” she said awkwardly.

He relaxed.

“Good.”

She laughed a little. And he smiled again. A real smile this time.

“How are Dona and Reese?” His smile took on a knowing edge, as if already anticipating what the answer would be.

Piper rolled her eyes. “I swear they belong in a black-and-white 50’s sitcom, with a little kid with a funny nickname. But instead of innocent little ‘Theodore “Beaver” Cleaver’, they got sixteen-year-old reject and former juvenile delinquent, Piper Fleming.”

“That’s clever. You should write that down,” Thay teased, amused at my melodramatic-ness

“I think I did. In my little, emo diary hidden under my tear-stained pillow.”

         They laughed some more. Real laughter. So far it felt about as good to laugh as it would have felt to cry earlier. Which felt better, laughing or crying, Piper wasn’t sure. At the moment, at least, laughing was a lot more fun. She didn’t want to cry now. She was having too much fun making fun of her self, making herself laugh, and making Thay laugh. It felt healthy.

         Their number was called soon enough, and Piper stood quickly, not wanting Thay to even try and get it himself. She didn’t want to see him limp like that again, or to see him try to hide his pain. She knew he was quietly thanking her as she strode quickly back to the table, with a tray that held both their meals and drinks. Piper had her burger with nothing but meat, secret sauce, and pickles, while Thay’s had everything on it. They shared a plate of chili-fries since it was huge.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Piper realizing she was hungrier than she’d thought.

         * * * * *{/indent}

“Torgan! I have legs! Will you put me down already?!?! What about my horse…”

“Forget the horse, already! The other two will get it! You ungrateful wench…will you stop beating me with your puny fists?!”

         Minotaur’s huge arm was wrapped tightly around Reagan’s tiny waste in an iron grip, her body seeming small and rag-doll-like slung over his enormous shoulder. True, Torgan, as Reagan’s personal body guard, was only doing his job, but couldn’t he have found a less humiliating way to help her safely escape the Law? Apparently she just hadn’t gotten to her horse fast enough. Before she could mount, he’d just picked her up and started running.

“You’re hurting me, you oaf! And I’ll probably never see that horse again! It was my best one.”

“Stop complaining!”

         The Minotaur tore through the wet cobble-stone streets, determinedly, his enormous hooves making clamorous sounds bouncing of the buildings surrounding them. The rain fell in merciless sheets, soaking Reagan’s skirts and ebony black hair. It fell sideways, hitting her square in the face, blurring her vision with rain drops. She couldn’t see Tristan or Markus, or even the yellow lights of the tavern anymore. At least Torgan was fast. She hadn’t even realized he could move this fast. Her body flailed helplessly, erratically jerking and jolting. She would really have preferred riding a horse right now. Even if this was the faster way. It seemed worth the risk.

         Suddenly, Reagan’s stomach seemed to slip out from under her, and she felt the ground come up quickly to meet her backside. She’d landed in a pile of grass and mushrooms, a soft little patch of green that had managed to break through the street’s surface. She looked up, Torgan towering over her, his face urgent, pointing in the direction of one of the buildings.

“Go! Run! Get to the hideout!”

Recognition and frustration flooded Reagan. Why, of all, places had he chosen this place, only a few blocks away from the tavern?

“What, you brought me here? Couldn’t you have brought me to any place farther? We have other hideouts you know…”

“No! There’s no time. Go!”

In a flash, he turned and started back the way they’d come.

Reagan, felt herself panic. Where was he going? Was he insane? Was he going to just go turn himself in? Did he think he could go fight them? How many were there?

         But there was no time. She could see what he was trying to do now. Obviously the Rangers were following close behind, and unless he held them off, distracted them, they would catch her. It was her they really wanted anyway. Torgan could handle himself.

         She scrambled to her feet, cursing her lack of nymph-like grace as she tripped over a loose stone. After almost falling twice on the rain-slickened street, she was gaining momentum again until she was finally sprinting with all her might toward the welcoming shadows of the alleyway ahead. This particular hideout was nothing more than a cellar tucked beneath a house a house. She would have preferred to be in one of the more clever hideouts, like the one they had hidden in the sewer systems.

         As she ran down the narrower back alley the first alley fed into, panicked thoughts ringing in her ears. They were sure to find her horse. They would know she’d gone on foot. They’d know she couldn’t have run far…

         But this place was pretty well hidden. It was the last place they’d expect to find her, knowing her reputation. How were they supposed to know which house she’d gone into anyway? She was being silly. Just silly. She turned behind her, to see if she could make out any shapes dressed in Ranger uniform coming after her, expecting again and again, every time she looked, to see one of them, but she was still alone. She relaxed now. Silly. How were they supposed to deduce that that particular cellar, beneath that particular house, harbored a gang of thieves? She came up to the familiar door. Home free.

         She didn’t waste time knocking on the door and giving the password. She closed her eyes and whispered an ancient incantation her mother had taught he when she was little. It was a forest nymph thing. The door and the latch behind it was made of wood, so, even if it was dead, she could tell it to do something just like she could a tree. However, the problem with trees was, though she could talk to them, they tended to ignore her…as if they rejected her for being part human. But, for some reason, dead tree wood always did what she told it to with little fuss. She heard the latch behind slide out, letting the door swing open lightly on its hinges. She dove in and slammed the door behind her. Sliding the wooden latch home along with a few other bolts and locks. Luckily there was enough light from the little antechamber for the three guards to recognize her. Had they not known it to be her, they probably would have killed her already. She very rarely used Nymphish to get into their safehouse, but there was a reason she always had them leave only the wooden latch locked when she was gone. It was for emergencies like this when she wouldn’t have time to give the password.

She was already striding toward the blank wall they seemed to guarding.

“We’ve been found out by the Rangers. Don’t open the door for anyone, even if they give the password,” her voice was calm, serious, all business. She was proud of the way she handled herself under pressure. She pressed on one of the bricks in the wall, making a passageway appear, breaking its seemingly ordinary appearance. “If Tristan and Markus have half a mind, they’ll head somewhere east of town to one of our underground sewage. If they come here, they’ll be leading them straight to us.”

Two of the guards nodded their understanding and stayed behind, immediately turned their attention toward the door, while the third one followed Reagan down into the short corridor.

         Reagan felt relief wash over her as the secret door slid closed behind them. The hallway ended rather abruptly in front of a tall wooden door, far thicker, taller, and heavier than the first two. It was locked tight with a huge complicated knot of chains and padlocks, all of which the guard was able to unlock the door quickly enough. He had plenty of practice. Cade was his name and he was one of Reagan’s more valuable assets. A former locksmith who grew tired of the quiet life and ended up joining her gang, he was the one who got the job done quickest when it came to breaking into safes, locks, and the like. But he was just as good at locking things up as he was breaking into them. He’d designed this particular lock himself. He pulled the humungous door open and allowed Reagan to slip through.

Reagan stepped into the surprisingly well-lit circular room, door slamming behind her with a sense of finality. She heard Cade locking the up the latches. Safe at last. She sighed, unwrapping he sheer, black, and now sopping wet shall from her face, and flung it to the side. This was the “safest” part of the safe-house. It was also the most boring.

She stood in the middle of the room, only half addressing the two guards dozing against the wall.

“Would it hurt to put some furniture in this forsaken dungeon?” she huffed. Her voice woke the two, who, startled, began scrambling to their feet, hands on their sword handles.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me, you dimwits. Have you two been drinking?” That was a stupid question. Beside them lay a few empty ale bottles. The smell of alcohol was heavy in the room. Actually. Reagan couldn’t remember the last time any part of this place didn’t smell like alcohol. Thieves, so it seemed, and human thieves especially, were very fond of their drink. Actually, it wasn’t just thieves. It seemed like human males anywhere were fond of their drink…

She didn’t let them answer.


“Well I hope you’ve sobered up by now. Would you mind guarding the door? The Rangers chased me here.”

That got their attentions. However, their reactions were different. The man on the left straightened up, seeming to recognize the urgency of the situation. While the other relaxed and bellowed a hearty laugh.

“Tristan really fowled things up, eh?” He turned to the other guard with a glint in his eye and a grin that spread form ear to ear.

(indent}The other, a few years younger, with a far less scruffy beard, rolled his eyes, and reached for the small coin purse attached to his belt, then emptied a few gold coins into the other guard’s waiting hand.

“Excellent doing business with you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” the other man growled, horse voice laced with sarcasm, “Now will you get serious? We have a job to do.”

“Yes, of course,” the two moved to the front of the room.

         Reagan turned, facing away from the door. She began pacing. She couldn’t seem to bring herself to stand still, to sit down. What was she so nervous about? There was no chance they’d find this place right? It was an inconspicuous location. They’d never found one of her hideouts before, what would allow them to do so now? She asked one of the guards if they’d had any ale left. Maybe that would calm her down. It was true, nymphs couldn’t get drunk, but she knew the human part of her was at least slightly soothed by a gulp or two of alcohol, even if she detested the taste of the stuff. No luck. Greedy fools had drunk down the last of the stash they had in this room. She wondered how much longer she’d have to wait down here. All night, mostly likely.
What if she got hungry? She grunted in frustration, happy that the two guards were ignoring her. She was not in the mood for conversation.

         She felt spooked for some unexplained reason. She had a bad feeling. Like she’d seen an omen or something. She felt like…like…something was going to go wrong. Like they’d somehow find her here. She perished the thought and kept pacing. Maybe it was that stupid tavern boy. What had he said again? Something about people in the sky and other worlds? Preposterous notions. Preposterous. And now he had her spooked. Goose bumps had begun to collect on her arms as she paced back in forth in the small room, despite its warm stuffiness.

         Her pacing began to slow. It felt like hours had already passed, though Reagan’s sounder judgment told her that at least half an hour or so had gone by. Soon enough she found herself standing there. She was just thinking now. Thinking about her mother, about the forest…

*BAM!*

         The next few moments, following the eruptive sound, occurred in what felt like the blink of an eye. Reagan wouldn’t have had time to turn and see what had happened even if she wanted to. Her heart leaped up into her throat, her stomach turning over in panic. But she found herself frozen, transfixed with fear. However, even in those swift moments, a million thoughts had managed to run through her quick mind at once. There here, she thought immediately. The Rangers. They’ve come. Her eyes shifted looking for an escape. Maybe the guards could hold them off. Maybe they could even fight them off. Get rid of them. Maybe the Rangers were outnumbered by her gang. But how in the name of heaven had they even gotten this far? And what was that sound? Had they brought a canon with them? She felt heat at her back. Was that fire?

Then she heard a few muted grunts of pain and a body fall heavily on the floor, while another voice was silenced.

         The room was suddenly dead silent. Reagan was frozen, transfixed by terror. She couldn’t make herself turn around. She felt sick. This was it. The end. But maybe, just maybe…there was hope…maybe her guards had won…

“Now that all the distractions are out of the way...”

The voice was utterly unfamiliar. It had a smoothness to it that was pleasant, yet terrifying in Reagan’s ears. It wasn’t the sound of one of her men.

         She started as she felt a warm hand rest lightly on her shoulder. She heard the man take a breath before he suddenly jerked her around to face him. Reagan turned her large, beautiful eyes up reluctantly to gaze into the face of her captor, stomach sinking, resigning herself to her fate. She felt her body go sort of limp, like she might fall, but she was far too prideful to faint in front of anyone. So she stood her ground, trying to make herself angry so her eyes would turn some fiery shade of orange or red. Right now she was sure they were deep sapphire in color. Dark and hopeless. Like a deep, endless night sky with no promise of dawn.

         She felt herself flush red with surprise. The man was none other than the Magister of Thay. Her knees buckled and the wind seemed to be knocked right out of her chest. Reagan only recognized him from the description people had given her, but it didn’t take more than a second to know who this man was. She’d never actually seen him in person. And she’d been told countless times that she had better hope she never ran into him. And, after hearing the stories she’d heard, she had always felt lucky for never having laid eyes on him.

         He carried about him all the authority and majesty of a king. He was alone. No other men followed him into the room. Had he single handedly broken into Reagan’s safe house, easily taking down all of her guards as if they were nothing? She glanced at the guard frozen in an odd attack stance. He hadn’t moved. Reagan felt her eyes widen with fear as she looked at the statue that had once been one of her guards. She looked back up into the man’s face. So all those legends she’d heard about him were true. Reagan wasn’t just dealing with a Magister, but a wizard…or whatever it was he called himself. She tried not to think of what he could, or would do to her…

But she couldn’t be afraid. She refused to let her self be.

         He had a pleasant face, Reagan thought. In fact, he was beautiful, fearfully beautiful. His skin was flawless and fair, his platinum blonde hair glinting in the torch light chandelier overhead which served as the room’s main source of light. He was dressed magnificently in a fitting, fashionable, red robe. His eyes were a piercing blue. They studied her, curious. He looked…surprised…stunned. He let go of her shoulder and took a step back, looking her up and down. Reagan hoped he couldn’t see that she was blushing now.

When he spoke again, his voice was far less guarded, more casual. He’d almost entirely dropped his authoritative tone. He stuttered, seeming distracted by something.

“Reagan the...erm...Reckless, you are...umm...under arrest...for crimes against the state...and erm...”

Why was he pausing and staring at her like that? He seemed to have one more thing to say…

“Would you like to go have some dinner sometime?”

The question hit her like a tone of bricks. She tried not to look surprised, but her mouth dropped open. She had to check if she’d heard right.

“Excuse me?” she asked incredulous.

“Well…if you will forgive me milady…” he bowed quickly as if he’d forgotten his manners. When he straightened again he just went right back to staring at her appraisingly. “…but myself blown away by the sigh of you! You really are rather stunningly beautiful. I must have dinner with you. I insist! How does…tonight sound?”

Reagan felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her again. But a slim sliver of hope brightened in the corner of her mind now.

“Does this mean…” she began slyly.

“That I’m setting you free? Heavens no! I just want to have dinner with you. One night is all I ask. Then it’s into the dungeon with you.”

Reagan frowned, furious. She crossed her arms, trying to be defiant, though she was all too aware of how very powerful this man was. She was swimming in treacherous waters. Maybe, if she was smart…she could trick him somehow. He seemed quite taken with her. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

“And if I refuse?” She cocked a slender eyebrow, trying to match his charm with her own.

The man shrugged, smiling apathetically.

“And ruin all the fun? Well, fine! If that suits you. If you really would rather just go straight to prison, I suppose that’d be alright with me. It would be more your loss than mine, honestly. You’ll just go straight to eating molded bread and stale water, while I’m sure there are millions of girls out there who’d die to spend dinner with me tonight,” he laughed. It was an annoyingly pleasant sound. Did he have to be so aggravatingly attractive?

“No. I think I’d prefer to just go start rotting in my cell now, thank you,” she answered coldly, satisfied by the idea of ruining the man’s little game. A sick game, she thought.

“Then it’s a date!” His eyes lit up and he flashed Reagan a charming grin. She was confused, unsure if she’d heard him right.

“Wait…what?”

But he just smiled pleasantly, grabbing her roughly by both wrists. In a flash, he’d shackled both her forearms in handcuffs and was quickly towing her toward the empty corridor. In a matter of minutes, with Reagan stumbling clumsily behind, they were in the antechamber, stepping over the bodies the two guards other guards he’d dispatched.

“As you can see, Madam Reckless…” he was saying, making a sweeping gesture over all his handwork, the men lying lifeless on the floor, the doors reduced to piles of splinters, ”I can do almost whatever I want, and no one, especially not you, can stop me. So if I want to take you to dinner. That’s what I’ll do. No question about it. Besides, you’re my prisoner. And therefore you belong to me. So you’ll do what I say whether you like it or not.”

         Reagan felt sick again. She wasn’t sick with fear anymore, but with anger, and utter frustration. Her cold fingers curled into balls as she tagged along, still tripping on the way. She grunted and tried to jerk herself free, but she knew it was useless.

         They were outside now standing in the rain, which should have soaked them by now, but for some reason both the Magister of Thay and the notorious thief lord, Reagan the Reckless, remained untouched by the falling raindrops.

While Reagan still stared puzzled up at the rain, she heard the Magister say, “Hmm…something will have to be done about that dress of yours. Haven’t you anything nicer to wear to the dinner table?”

* * * * *



© Copyright 2009 Albireo Dreamweaver, Nicky, (known as GROUP). All rights reserved. GROUP has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Log In To Leave Feedback
Username:
Password:
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!

All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!