Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Printable Version

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 08-09-2016


Narrowing corridors of flesh pulsated, the slumbering behemoth in which their home rested was always moving in one fashion or another. Entrapped souls howled, wights feasting upon the lowest levels of the damned; chipping away at the spiritual knit of the wavering flooring. Bress had not been gone long, yet it felt foreign to pass by humanoid furnishings and over arcing ribs decorating the massive hall of assembly. Other Abaasy paused to stare, perhaps taken back by her appearance, as she was more contained than most present, her flaws buried beneath an all too human veneer. There was no pause to her pace, coasting through the newly redeemed and the elders alike as if none within the sleeping great one could pull her attention from whatever task was at hand.

She was headed north, up through the tightening passageway of the Abaasy's throat and carefully through razor sharp maze of jagged teeth larger in size than she was. It's spongy tongue undulated idly even as she made an exit from the beast, finding the gripping darkness of the void ahead. The Land of Nod was all ash and bone, smoke and blood. The sky, if it were truly a sky, was alight with flashes of distant lightning and cracks of constant thunder. Very little could be seen through the debris of unfiltered miasma, though Bress had memorized the path in which she needed to take, and after some time wading through foul conditions of the smoldered realm, her steps slowed to less than a casual meandering.

His scent was heavy in the stagnant air.

"Kysad?" Coming to a complete halt within the frame of a great door, her hands breezed over the calcified surface in search of the handle. Clearing years of accumulated ash from the surface didn't change anything. Her pale eyes narrowed suspiciously as she inquired indignantly, "Was this some sort of trick? To beckon me with haste, but only to mock me? Shame on you for choosing such a dour location to play your games!"

"I've never been much for games, Bress." A voice replied stiffly, "At least I can rest assured you haven't changed since our last encounter. I'll open the door."

True to his word, the door opened then, and Bress stepped hastily through so not to miss her opportunity. It was best that she did this, as the door was quick to shut, barring anyone else from following. Where the Goliath city they both hailed from was all flesh and living, Kysad's cavernous home reflected the death of the landscape of Nod. No trapped souls begged for mercy, as he kept none. No warped and grotesque furnishings were in sight. Instead, everything was crafted from obsidian and fire stone, lit by candles whose flames flickered enticingly through the dim. The foyer was large, but the chamber it feed into was much larger, with a ceiling that stretched high and uneven. Runes were embedded in most available surfaces, archaic and amateur, yet powerful enough to keep the tide of the spectral fiends far from crossing the threshold of this place.

"What a surprise to find you locked away, alone in your makeshift bunker. If I was wise to your reasoning, I'd surely boast, but I'm afraid I don't particularly understand just what keeps you in seclusion." Bress glanced around the open hall, hoping to spot his figure somewhere in the shadows. "I heard Kaithness is no longer among us. Perhaps that's why you've run?"

"Throwing salt at my wounds won't assist you in being any more knowledgeable of my choices." The voice barked a laugh. "I wasn't the one running. I sought quiet, which I found, but you ran through the ages with a Vaalen on your back." A tense pause stilled Bress' tongue, and the voice fed off her unease. "Did he ever get what he wanted? Perhaps it was your annihilation? That certainly didn't happen. Maybe something more carnal? I've heard the Vaalen are like stone - rigid and thick. Isn't that what you desired?"

"Hardly." Circling the room without finding the source of the replies, Bress finally seated herself in a fire stone chair towards the center, nestled between tables and trophies of fallen monstrosities from the void. "It's so presumptuous of you to tell me what I desire. Had I any wish for a Vaalen of my own, I'd have one." Her bare legs crossed, milky skin almost too pure for the bleak tower the two occupied. "Were there any need to lay with one, I would still be caught in the throes of ecstasy." Bress twirled her silky ivory locks while a playful smirk crossed her features. "Instead, I'm here with you. Perhaps my desires are closer to home."

"You always were an awful liar."

"Oh, that you're right about." Bress leaned back in her seat before exhaling a pleased sigh. "Nothing of this place piques any interest from me. Hideous Abaasy vying for political power, all warped and malignant by their deeds. I'm too beautiful for any of you, to be frank."

"At least your charm is still positively repulsive. I thought I had forgotten why I never wished you well."

Appearing before the seated woman, Kysad was another example of a demon appearing quite demonic. His horns were sharp and angled upwards from each side of his head, his tail a flickering appendage with a tapered length and spaded tip. His eyes were small orbs of fire, lit within his skull by whatever damned presence willed his existence into being. Even his teeth were fangs, all of them, so his smile was nothing short of horrific in nature. Coal black skin speckled with gold flecks gave his appearance an almost chameleon quality in the pitch of his home, and Bress felt relieved all at once that he was uglier than she remembered.

"Ah, I was right. You are hiding because you did something absolutely atrocious. Well, Kysad, I can't say I'm surprised. You were never very bright." Naked as she was, Bress uncrossed her legs just long enough to tease the other Abaasy, then recrossed them. "So, now that you're disfigured AND stupid, tell me why I've been summoned to this troll cave of yours."

Opposite where she sat, he seated himself as well, equally nude yet visibly impressed by her show of perfection. Her wickedness remained inside, and perhaps Kysad wondered how she managed to keep from undergoing the same changes all other Abaasy seemed to fall victim to when they committed heinous acts. His eyes wandered her figure, dutifully searching for flaws to skin as precious and clear as porcelain, though it seemed a moot point and both were aware of this. All he managed to do was make himself hard, so one of his clawed hands idly stroked at his cock. "In need of assistance." His fiery eyes closed for the moment, yet her body didn't leave his thoughts. His stroking remained an afterthought to the task otherwise unexplained.

"Right. I gathered as much. You wouldn't seek me out if it weren't some desperate plea for help. I'm just curious what help you require, given you've hidden away from our people, and from traveling through the world's beyond ours. What pressing matters could you possibly have?" She eyed him as though he wasn't readying his length, as the Abaasy felt no shame from such things, and Bress worried over no man's sex. Eons of orgies, deviancy and debauchery left one feeling numb to sexual contact of any sort. The power trip was what really got her off. "So, being less cryptic this time, why did you summon me?"

His nails, like talons, raking against his foreskin as his eyes opened once more. "Tell me how you, of all the Abaasy I've met, seemed to retain this human guise of yours. Horns and tail aside, you pass for something entirely unlike our kind." His grip tightened when it stroked down his shaft; thoughts of Bress' blasphemous mouth wrapped around the head of his cock polluted his thoughts like blood in bath water. There was no cleaning his psyche of her, but rather than grow angry to her entrancement, he welcomed the calm. Throbbing, Kysad hissed a pleasured sound. "But your malignancy is so thick, the air reeks of death when you approach. Your crimes are many. So many, I couldn't begin to list half of them, as we haven't got centuries to do so." Shifting where he sat, he felt her figure trying to seduce him from her chair, and the pull was almost enough to break his resolve. Almost.

"Oh? You think my appearance is something I would share the secret of?" Her laughter chimed through the stillness of the cavern. "And what can you possibly give me, Kysad? You can barely contain your desires as you sit there with your manhood in hand, so whatever I might happen to want from you would be easy enough to get. Blood or bone, muscle or cum - you're nothing compared to me. Older, wiser, perhaps better suited to elevate than I am... And yet, still seeking me to solve your problems." Sighing again, Bress rose nimbly to her feet and stepped close to the spread male, her fingertips finding the tips of his horns. "Ghastly to be changed so violently, wasn't it? I can only imagine."

The closer she was, the more feverish Kysad's strokes became, his cock crushed in palm as her shapely figure lingered achingly near. "I've never been one to barter with a devil."

"And I've never been one to watch a beast fuck itself. Does it bother you to know I could take you now, and you would be powerless?" Moving to his front, one of her knees was lodged between his hip and the arm of the chair, the other following suit on the other side. Above his frantic hand, her glistening cunt hovered near his face as though taunting Kysad. "Weak and powerless, as are those within the behemoth, and those beyond Nod. All of you, with your ethics and your morals, clinging the humanity you never had. Living by the example of a species a fraction the age of our own." Roughly, she grabbed his mane of thick hair and forced his face between her legs. The feeling of his tongue compliantly lapping against her delicate lips brought a genuine murmur of amusement from the woman.

"Kysad, once so proud and so desired, now taken like a slave..." Her whispered words were slow and precise as her hips bucked in time with the rhythm of his savoring mouth. Forked tongue penetrated her slick hole and expanded in devilish design, leaving Bress to moan softly between where her head bowed lower towards his. From his hair, she relinquished her grasp to prove a point, and he didn't cease. Instead, the hands on his length brought themselves to her ass, where they groped and spread her plump cheeks desperately. Bress continued to belittle him even as she found her climax, the warm rush of juices filling his mouth while she uttered in delight, "Broken and used..."

Licking away the remnants of their heated exchange, the pleasure remained hot on his tongue as his body ached to be further inside hers. Looking up at this creature he loathed so deeply, his voice held the tight desperation he wanted only to relieve himself of. "Take a seat, Bress. Don't torment me so."

"Hah! As though I'd follow your orders, you filth." Abruptly, her palm slammed into the bridge of his nose to push him away, and with his recoil, she stood triumphant before the shaken Abaasy. "But of my appearance, you wish to know the answer? Fine, Kysad, I'll tell you the secret while you nurse your battered ego." Bending to lean over him, her hands planted on the arms of the chair so she could stare down the beast, breasts full and perky, her nipples sensitive to closeness. "I was the ugliest of all Abaasy once. Vile, horrible... The most repugnant creature to come from the spawning of Nod." Barely above a whisper, the secret seemed to hang in the air for an eternity before she added, "But then I did as we all do."

"...Which is what?"

"I committed the most treacherous of acts against all those unfortunate enough to cross my path. Only, as luck would have it, I didn't corrupt further. I was already at the height of the damned, a pinnacle point..." Bress smiled wickedly at the confused male, and even that was infectiously attractive. "I cured my own disease, Kysad. A curious case, and one few can boast, I could get away with more than murder. I could get away with genocide. With broken promises and pacts, with lies and stealing, with cheating and scandal. I could take who I wanted when I wanted, and I could torture those resistant in ways more terrifying than even the most skilled torturers were capable of thinking up after millennia at work. I am so radiant now, I glow. I am so pure in appearance, I stand like a beacon among the rest of our kind, and my only secret is this one. My only regret is not having more time to reap the benefits of my abnormality."

Kysad, as taken back by her words as he had been by being struck in the face, had nothing more to say. The shock was evident on his bloody features, tar-like vitae streaming from his thin serpentine nostrils. Bress had already lowered herself to her knees, though this time on the floor, with her pale cheek coming to rest against one of Kysad's thighs. Expelling a rush of breath against his painfully erect cock, she peered up where he was stunned into silence, though found one of his hands had followed her down so it could rake taloned fingers through her ivory curls. "And now, you are without need of me, yet here I remain." Her tongue flicked lazily to brush the crown of his manhood, tempting him to try again with his pursuit, yet Kysad remained unmoving. "What if your personal hell was this, Kysad? To never fulfill this indulgence you seek? Intoxicated and in dire need of release, yet kept on the cusp for all time?"

"Your cruelty is your appeal to some, perhaps, but you know it has no power over me." Yet he sounded unsure if this was true, as his body was alight and his mind begged that he vocalize sure needs to the woman. "Be gone from my sight, Bress. This game is over."

"My games are never over, Kysad, as they are a great deal of fun to play when I'm always the winner." Giving his cock one last tantalizing lick for good measure, she rose to her feet and dusted away ash coating her knees with an absent gesture. "You can tend to your cock on your own. In the future, should you find the courage to summon me, you might want to be prepared." Turning away, the Abaasy sauntered off the way she had come, through the dim of Kysad's solitude - leaving the elder demon to furiously howl in frustration towards her departing back.

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 08-10-2016


Space can be so lonely, Rhailo thought bleakly as her pale hues watched the seemingly unchanging expanse of universe where it stretched endlessly before their vessel.

Lonelier when I think of him.

Exhausted as the Ahroun felt, she couldn't bring herself to sleep. That was proven out of the question as every attempt she made to rest seemed to incite dreams of her fallen Mandalorian. Love stained her heart, causing such a strangely tragic residue to take hold of her person. It bled from a wound that refused to heal under any plausible circumstance. A barricade of depression, a sea of self doubt. Her body shook with anguish for days after their departure, and when his remains were sent out into the aether of space, Rhailo couldn't help noticing the sharp pain her ravaged emotions harbored mercilessly. It wasn't attractive or becoming of the woman, so when she was with others aboard the space craft, her best option proved to be silence. Unapproachable. To not give her thoughts or opinions, as they could only pull those loosely tied drawstrings desperately keeping the flood of unresolved hurt at bay.

In the pit of her stomach was a sense of disgust as well on Brax's behalf. He was carrying half of this weight, and it wasn't his burden to bear.

He never complained though. He allotted her space, and time, and above all things, the quiet she silently pleaded for. There wasn't a slew of incessant questions directed at what her future plans might be, nor was there a barrage of remarks encouraging her to cheer up. Rhailo didn't want to cheer up. She just wanted to mourn in traditional attire of seamless black while she watched the galaxy they traversed continue in starlit sprawl as though eons of travel wouldn't be enough time to bring them home. Of course, she knew they drew closer to neighboring solar systems with each passing day, and that rekindled a hidden strength long buried beneath her layers of grief and fear. If she could face the daily condolences of the crew, she was capable of overcoming her impending terror regarding her parents.

At least she thought it was a possibility. What did she have left to lose?

The evening murmurs of flight hands dwindled as it grew later, and the artificial lights above dimmed to replicate conditions for working sleep cycles. With a glass of wine in hand, Rhailo counted another night lost to sleep, but felt nothing of it. Escaping the dreams had become her only priority in transit. Lost in personal thoughts, she hardly noticed the automatic door sliding open, though as she turned, surprise muted on her worn features. "Oh, it's you."

Brax nodded once in slow response as he stepped through her quarters. Sterile white, it looked utterly depressing in the dark, though his luminous eyes found her seated in shadows with knees pressed close to her chest. Her drink was swirled absently when she turned back towards the stretch of window. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet as of late, so I hoped we could speak."

"I don't have anything to say." Rhailo admitted, her hooded gaze drifting between stars. "Nothing you want to hear anyway."

"I find it hard to believe you would filter what you say to me. You've never been one to do such a thing." A thin smile crossed his lips as he took a seat against the window, far enough to leave her space should she choose to move. "I'd love to hear whatever it is you think I don't want to hear."

"Okay." Rhailo began calmly as she straightened, still only offering her portrait to Brax. "I can't sleep and I can't eat and sometimes, I think I can hear Demagol speaking to me. So, I try not to close my eyes. I try not to think about him." She laughed harshly, her head shaking as she continued with, "But it's so hard not to think of him." When she turned to Brax, she shrugged her shoulders as though for sure she knew the answer he was going to give. "I know you don't get it, okay? I know you think I fell head over heels in love with a foreigner just to spite the family. I know you can't understand what I felt for him. How can I ask you to?"

"You think I don't understand love?" Long fingers rose to brush through his coif of white hair. "Or that I don't understand how you could love him?"

"Maybe both."

"Well, I can assure you, I have reasoning for both of those cases. Would you like to hear why?"

It was Rhailo's turn to nod, though her downcast eyes were sign enough that she was bracing for painful backlash and tension between them. Brax chose to speak anyway.

"There was something about him that you found attractive. From the tale of your rescue, it was likely his part in assuring your freedom. He bought you, and subsequently freed you. For that, I'm in his debt to some degree, were he alive for me to pay such a debt. I don't fault your feelings towards Demagol. If anything, you feel so admirably that I'm envious I'm not granted that level of emotional strength. I might never know that intensity of love because of my shortcomings. I do know love though." Scratching under his chin, Brax looked over his huddled sister closely. "Not romantically, as you loved him, but I know that I love you dearly. I would move the stars to see you home safe, and I would slay anyone who dared try and hurt you-"

"I know Brax, and I'm sorry I implied you didn't love anyone-"

"But I would also lock you away without so much as a second thought if it were for the better good." Clearing his throat, his vision tore from the other Auroun, and settled itself in his lap.

"I love you, Rhailo, but I don't always approve of these messes you make. This whole business with Demagol and a bounty on your head? I don't know how you managed to make these issues for yourself. You only met him because you were a wanted fugitive! Rhailo, you can't possibly believe that it would end well for you. What, you were going to hunt down criminals with this mysterious stranger for the rest of your life? How? What would happen if he got angry with you in the middle of a foreign galaxy, and just decided to sell you? Or kill you?" Brax's hands clenched into tight fists against his thighs. "You didn't know him. Not after a few days together. You knew bits and pieces - just enough to love the idea of him - and that isn't right, Rhailo. Even I know that, as cold as you perceive me to be.

"There was no future there for you, and deep down, you know that. His death is fresh, and I don't want to lecture you now that he's gone, but I fear for your choices in matters to come." Rhailo had brought her free hand up to cover her teary features, but Brax pulled it back down so he could meet her gaze. "I don't want you to make the same mistakes again. I want you to be free, because no matter what love you felt for Demagol, you have always wanted freedom first and foremost."

"B-but that isn't even an option anymore, Brax!" Sobbing, Rhailo shook as she nursed her wine, her throat tight as she choked out the words. "Back home, I'm a prisoner! I don't want to go back... back to that place. I don't."

"We're not going back, Rhailo." Brax replied softly before tapping the glass with the tips of his fingers. "We're actually headed to a colony right now."

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 08-12-2016


"I know you're there."

"Well, I wasn't trying to hide the fact." Sitting on the edge of her window sill, the scraggly fellow cracked an all too amused grin. "Vian, you look lovely as always."

"You shouldn't be here," she started with a frown that creased her brow and narrowed her gaze, "and if he finds out, you'll get both of us in trouble."

"Because I'm well known for shying away from possible trouble." As his fingers danced against the open window, he leaned inward to take a long sniff of the air. "Have you been smoking?"

"No." She lied, though her indignant response was guilt enough. He knew better than to trust her anyway.

"Well, it's good to hear you're not smoking, though what a turn on it would have been to hear Kayen's angel had a dark side." Glancing around her bedroom, it was almost shameful how he looked in dark rags of clothing, filthy from hard travel. Vian's whole situation was too decadent for words. The carpeting, the drapes, the armoire stashed thoughtlessly in the far corner, and the canopy bed with gilded frame work an artisan was once tasked to slave over for countless hours - beautiful and wasteful. Stories lined the walls, knit to moving tapestries, and faintly, he could hear a chorus of whispering bells play from her music box.

"I doubt father would appreciate the stench." Sapphire hues sought the Quies boy like he was a stain on the floor, questioning and accusatory. "Were you bored, Krig? Is that why you stopped by?"

Perhaps it had been boredom that led the youngest of his clan seeking council with the outcast Vereaux, but Krig didn't see reason to admit such a thing. Dark lips contrasting his ghostly features curled into a salacious grin. "I've come to steal you away. What other reason would I have for visiting so late when you've already prepared to retire?" Motioning to her nightgown, he hopped from the window and began pacing the floor, well aware he was tracking dirt with each precarious step. "Or, another option, you come willingly."

"With you?" Vian laughed, and the sound was as cold as the Alps during winter. Such a frigid soul, Krig hardly knew why he pined so openly for the woman, and yet he remained, with that same look painted over his scarred visage. "Why on earth would I go anywhere with you?"

"Why not? I can't see a reason you wouldn't trust me, and I haven't a reason to keep you from following me into the night. There's plenty to see, plenty to do, and whether you care to admit it or not, you want to go." His posture straightened, but he still had a rather unsettling quality about him, as though what resided beneath the surface was far more threatening than dirt on expensive flooring. "Being locked away isn't any sort of life for you, is it?"

Vian's eyes rolled, slow and willful, until they seemed to have made a full circle in her head. "No. I don't want any Rumpelstiltskin promises or Pied Piper enticement. I'm ready for bed, and you're being weird... as usual."

"I'm not weird! If anything, I'm fun and adventurous and... Hm, I suppose a bit weird. Maybe you're on to something." Krig chuckled softly before shaking his ratty head of ashen hair. "But I can respect being told no, even if it's against everything I stand for."

"And what is it you stand for, Kirg?" Vian asked aloud, pondering without giving it much thought of her own. "Unhygienic practices and random late night meetings? Had you not tried, what, three nights in a row then I might take a chance. At this point, you seem far too lonesome to be as happy as you claim to be, gallivanting around late at night."

"Yes, well, it's easy for someone like you to judge someone like me. You come from a place few of us are allowed to experience, with all this luxury to ease your pain. It's no wonder why you're happier here than you might be exploring. That doesn't mean I won't continue to try and lure you out, if only for a drink." Teetering on the balls of his feet, he added in a sing song voice for emphasis, "Buuuut nooooot toooooonight."

"No, definitely not tonight, and maybe never."

"Well, never isn't such a long time." Krig teased under his breath, unable to suppress the smile that followed subsequent. "I can wait until never if that's what it takes."

Clicking her tongue a few times, the Fledgling Vereaux gave her visitor a once over before asking, "If I come out with you tomorrow, will it satisfy whatever this fascination is you have with me?"

"Satisfy? Hardly. Though, were you to hate my company after a night with me, I couldn't begin to tread upon your feelings. I'm adamant, but not disrespectful." Stepping back a few feet, he reached behind him in a blind search for the window frame he entered through. "Thankfully, I have more confidence in our arrangement than to give up entirely before we've had our fun. I'll see you tomorrow night then, Vian?"

"Yes." Vian promised, and this time, she was being honest - which seemed even more peculiar than her rapid change of heart. "Just be sure to wear clean clothes. Please. It's the least you can do."

"Ah, what you ask of a man who lives in a hole... Alright. A clean outfit so I'm not such an eyesore." With a half bow and an awkward climb out her window, Krig left Vian to sleep, though he sang his jubilation very loudly, listing acts he intended upon her even as the street lights popped and fizzled in response to his presence. Even the bugs stopped chirping their nightly serenade, silenced by the youth of Quies blood who knew no greater joy than that he found in an icy queen of royal lineage.

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 08-31-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-02-2016



The voices called. Even here, across the cosmos, they screamed her name.

"PFIFER!"

A hot breeze blew soft against Pfifer's flesh as the mage's eyes slowly cracked into narrowed slits, her body sprawled awkwardly across a bed of moss and flat stone. This forest, abundantly lush with greenery, provided a canopy of shade from midday heat that otherwise hung heavy over the wooded treeline. Her skin was damp with sweat, undeterred rivulets tracing her pale torso along the bare curves. Dazed, she found herself struggling to remember the details of her travels, and furthermore, just what had happened to leave her discarded in an area unknown without Leon in tow?

Naked, too. That fact hadn't been overlooked.

There were countless questions Pfifer was incapable of coming to conclusion upon as her thoughts swam through the fog of an oncoming migraine. Pain wasn't unwelcome when one could barely find the strength to sit up. At least it could centralize her attention as her current dilemma loomed heavy over her condition. Mouth dry, she coughed bitterly and righted her position to better estimate just what region this strange wilderness was located in, though the plants in these parts were none she recognized as being Telaran. If not Telaran, she thought when she mustered the strength to stand, then they're perhaps native to Dusken. Some part of Brevane. Leon can't be far from where I ended up.

Yet as she walked, Pfifer found her conclusion to be more pressing than first imagined. This place, so vibrant with it's coat of emerald and lime, was nowhere she had been before. The power here wasn't so planetouched, nor did the magic come easily. Gathering the energy to craft a new outfit winded her, and though wheezing, the mage would rather feel utterly miserable while her dignity remained intact than chance coming in contact with a native to the region as she was. No supplies were recovered in her immediate area, meaning the jump through dimensions had left her truly alone; only the calling remained, screams from another place beyond this barrier of reality.

Her legs seemed restless while the rest of her figure shook with fatigue. She couldn't tell how long she had walked by the time she discovered a pocket of civilization, though the villager's appearances were undoubtedly human, and the lack of diversity cautioned Pfifer not to draw attention to her ears. She was no stranger to the tales of lands less established where there were no elves permitted. No Bahmi either. Just humans, like buzzing gnats, circling their daily tasks without a second glance issued towards the wounded outsider. A godsend, honestly, as Pfifer had no means to combat a group of frightened creatures while so magically drained. Her own aching fears were far from forgotten - after all, Leon was nowhere to be found. His presence wasn't connected to her own, and in quiet dismay, she lingered on what that might mean.

Swallowing, Pfifer knew tears would do nothing in a case of potential catastrophe, but they proved harder to ignore than she cared to admit. Even in the apparent private of her wandering, she begged the sadness to cease. There was no proof. Anything could have happened to her beloved. He needn't be dead to be gone, she reminded herself as she trailed through slender lanes between small cottages and huts. If anything, you've crossed too far across the threshold of worlds, and you need only the strength to return. This isn't the end. Not yet.

Dark approached, and while feeling ravenous, Pfifer did her best not to dwell on hunger. Her appetite would be voracious when there was a chance for such things, but having carefully sneaked into a residential hayloft to sleep, she assured herself that was priority now. Perhaps this was a nightmare she need only to wake from, one which Leon would laugh about. Silly nightmares, and utter impossibility; a land where their love couldn't be.

How preposterous a thought.

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-02-2016


Palmetto was a blur. All traders and caravans, hustle and bustle, teeming with citizens all peddling their finds from scavenging and excavations. Kade was anxious at first, having arrived filthy and poor, with little more than her backpack and a few trinkets she deemed worthless while trekking alone. Vale and she had parted ways, though she thought of the rugged fellow fondly when there was any time for such an occurrence. Perhaps his travels had led him north after all. Shouldering her pack, the nomad skirted around the main square to lay out a collective of half chewed magazines and pamphlets, finding she did better when not clustered with the other vendors.

Beneath a marigold sun, her patience paid off as collectors of memorabilia skimmed the rat eaten pages with looks of interest. Little by little, copies of Reader's digest and Vanity Fair found buys, leaving Kade with enough supplies for her next adventure into the wasteland. Content for the time being, she was prepared to pack up shop when a chuckle sounded from around the corner where she sat, the message following something out of a bad dream.

"You came an awful long way ta sell dirty mags, Kade. Were ya gone so long because ya had to track more down, or didja think you and I'd parted ways for good?"

Instinctively, Kade ground her teeth behind pursed lips. Given the choice, she'd push Robbie Marx off a cliff, and watch the body on it's fall down.

"Aw, now yer gonna keep your lid shut?" Standing broad and tall, Robbie peered over her small gathering of magazines before nodding. "I got it. Yer still mad at me."

"An' here I thought ye couldn' get any dumber, but ye've proven me wrong again. Good on ye fer keeping a high standard when it comes ta how goddamn stupid ye can be. 'm sure yer a record holder if anyone keeps track ov that kinda stuff." Shuffling the last of the brochures into her backpack, Kade rose to her feet and gave an exaggerated bow. "Bravo."

Robbie's face contorted into a faux wince in response, a hand finding his heart against the loose cotton shirt he wore. "Ooooh, ya got me. Dumb as a stump. Lucky for you though, this stump has word of a big job."

"What's that supposed ta mean?" The skepticism plastered over Kade's features was enough to earn a laugh from Robbie, but she pressed on with, "Nah, seriously, what the fuck are ye on about? Finally thought I'd been done with ye, and yer back on my trail, blowin' smoke up my ass. Why?"

"No, no. Ya got me wrong, kiddo. I mean it when i say there's a big job cookin' here. The sort of job a scraper like you might be interested in- the sort that pays well."

Grubby hands raked through the golden spill of her bangs, anchoring the loose follicles behind her ears. "A job? What sorta job then?"

"Guess something valuable is still in the old ruins, off to the southwest. Raiders ditched the city, but from what they're talking about, they've got need for hands because it'll be a big excavation."

"That's it then?" Kade asked indignantly, her nostrils flaring in dismay. "Somethin' out there? That's it? Fuck if that ain' vague. I'm not gonna go hoofin' it out in the fuckin' middle of the desert with a buncha yahoos, lookin' fer 'somethin' or whatever. Ye can keep yer job to yerself, Robbie. I don' got time ta fuck around with you and yer boys while diggin' in that dirt."

"And what if it ain't just something, eh? What if it's like, I dunno, a major find. Like a weapon stash, or an old military base? You'd rather be mad at me than check it out for yourself?" He leaned his side against the wall before adding, "Ya never seemed like you'd be so boring, Kade."

"Boring?!" One of Kade's hands yanked at her scarf to show the aged scar tissue circling her throat. "Fuck you fer thinkin' I'd get over ye ditchin' me ta fuckin' marauders! Ain' been a day that went by I didn' wish ye were dead, an' so help me, Robbie, ye come my way again and I'll wrap you up a pole by yer guts." Snarling as she finished, Kade made an about face and headed back towards the inn, leaving Robbie laughing as the sun set above Palmetto.

Even after he was out of sight, his words weren't forgotten. If anything, Kade was obsessive about what he had proposed, though to go with a group that was willing to hire Robbie wasn't an option. Her pride was too much a part of her thought process to even consider an option with Robbie in it. Instead, she thought about going alone; she worked better on her own. Over dinner, travelers much like herself discussed the roads and the dangers, mentioning new gangs and old shortcuts everyone knew by now. Kade nodded along with the topics, but she couldn't be tasked with actually conversing, given how self absorbed her current plans made her.

If she went ahead of this job Robbie mentioned, she could be real quick with her investigation, but thorough enough to figure out just what the fuss was. If the city held secrets, Kade wasn't afraid to find out for herself. After all, it wasn't like she had anyone else to rely on in Palmetto. By the time Kade packed up her goods and settled into the threadbare bed the inn provided, she had a plan worked out. As she drifted to sleep, she wondered if it would work, but otherwise, if Vale would have come with her.

She reckoned he would of. Much like her, he wasn't boring.

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-06-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-17-2016


Ocean waves lapped against the shore, engulfing sand with each relentless battery of foaming swells, the scent foreign. Sniffing the wind as the current beyond raced to kiss land, Vian's heart seemed to swell in her chest. An extraordinary sense of helplessness overwhelmed her, and yet, she wasn't afraid. If anything, the Fae was awestruck, standing perfectly still while taking in details on the horizon. Even at night with cloud coverage blotting out the moon, there was no mistaking the presence of power unmeasured. Like potential devastation seen in complacence. A shiver moved from the base of her spine to her shoulders, causing Vian to shake in anticipation as if expectation of what came next was caressing her back muscles.

The fingers of fate promising everything and nothing at all.

" -take it you've never seen the ocean?"

Blinking from her silent torpor, Vian's gaze sought that of her companion, the coolness of his fingers entwined around her own managing to drag reality back into perspective. Something akin to a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "It's so big... Where is the end?"

"Wherever the next tract of land might be." Krig's shrug was close, his shoulder brushing hers as his free hand directed attention back towards the water's edge. "East, as far as Europe. That would be my guess." A grin found his features as he added softly, "But there is no true end."

"How can that be?"

"As my father relayed to me on many an occasion, the ocean is a fantastic analogy for our kind. Ancient and roiling with energy, indefinite so long as this planet persists... Humanity long outgrew their need to praise it with declarations of allegiance, yet there is no force quite so deadly. A vast network, comprised of the smallest molecules, hidden beneath a captivating surface." Pleased with his words, Krig went on to say, "Which seems all too similar to the state of Fae these days. Each more beautiful than the last."

Perhaps Vian took the compliment well. She made no indication of it. Instead, the reflection of the moon meeting the distant waves remained the focal point of her intrigue. Relinquishing Krig's hand abruptly, unsure steps led the Fae across the cool earth despite hesitation clawing at her insides. He followed her at an arm's reach, though the woman knew in the furthest recesses of her being that this was a journey meant to be made alone. Self exploration didn't require an audience; mentally, she remained without one.

"Are you going for a dip?" Having stopped, Krig's voice trailed behind where the messy footprints continued in the sand. "Shouldn't you take off your jewelry at least?"

Vian didn't hear him. Submerging with each motion forward, the Fae sank beneath the dark surface of the abyss, welcoming the cold wash of eternity against her fledgling body.

Home momentarily.

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-19-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-19-2016



His hands.

Her hands.

Their hands.

Reyr was having a difficult time making out just whose hands were where, though as a single finger slid between the crease of her slick nether lips, she didn't fixate on who present was controlling it. Her head rolled, lolling where it hovered over Sol's cock, a thread of saliva dangling precariously from her mouth. Dazed, she moved to Nova's features, kissing her. Again and again while the barest whispers managed to steal through like runaway fears avoiding self control's incessant rules. They had been drinking like usual. They had planned to go home like usual.

So why was she moving between Nova's thighs?

Head bowing, her lashes fluttered, causing the room to spin and shift while Nova shuddered. Reyr's tongue was quick, unabated by the situation even as her mind shuffled through still images of their evening. One shot, two shot, three shot, four. On and on until Reyr felt Nova's legs tighten, her moan low and deep like a beast in heat. Reyr tasted her come, warm and welcome as panting breaths beat down against the other woman's clit. Her tongue swirled and pirouetted and bounded for that tight hole spasming that opened in recourse.

The bar had been quiet, and they had thought drinking was going to pass the time.

Nova's mouth was covered, Sol kissing her.

Sol, whose fingers continued to draw needy circles around Reyr's sex.

Sol, who only stopped his adoration of Nova to push Reyr forward.

Sol, who ensured her body remain splayed over Nova's while he stroked his already slick cock in anticipation.

How many drinks had Reyr shotgunned before they stumbled upstairs to the hotel portion of Radius? Her cunt rubbed against Nova's as Sol forced himself between her desperately tight walls, the muscles stretching to fit his girth even as her whimpers of protest were stifled by Nova. Lips on her lips, a slow grind. A slap to her ass, and her mouth tasting Nova's, which tasted like Sol.

How many drinks?

Frustrated, Reyr moved one of her hands to hold Nova's while the other slid between them, again teasing at the swollen point between her parted lips. Reyr's fingers didn't care that Nova was bucking upwards in a coil of desire, the waves of tension finding release over and over; Sol's cock feeling the undulations of Reyr's excitement. Reyr prayed they remembered to lock the door.

The bed rocked, three bodies piled, their movements all in sync.

Sol's pace picked up and so did Reyr's, her hand covered in Nova's repeated orgasms. Nova bit her lip in protest, dancing the fine line between overwhelmed and ecstatic, though Reyr couldn't help continuing. Down the rabbit hole they went, Sol's grip on her hips alleviated slightly as he wrapped his grip around her throat. Reyr felt him finish, cum hot and filling until she was shaking, dripping. Sol pushed her aside, reforming their three stack by maneuvering Nova to play the middle piece. Wide eyes met her, aroused and unforgiving - enough to make Reyr blush in the dark.

Payback. Reyr felt what it was like to be unable to fight back. She loved it, loved the vulnerability, loved the sensation of skilled fingers forcing her to climax. Her kisses to Nova were appreciative, thankful. Her cries were soft and moist as Nova's tongue reigned supreme over her own. Sol fucked Nova harder than Reyr, deeper, and Reyr was dizzy again by how feverish the alien above her worked now that she was being filled so insatiably.

They changed positions for hours. Like a game of Twister, the players all bent and leaned and knelt. Sol fucked her throat when he wanted to hear her gag. Nova held her arms and legs spread while Sol pummeled her ass. When it was Nova's turn to be violated, Reyr licked her friend's tears and brought her mouth around Nova's aroused nipples. Each grunt Sol made rekindled the spark in the pit of her stomach. Each filthy word Nova whispered in response caused Reyr to tremble. Reyr's last memory was Nova's mouth against her cunt, proving she was the better of the three when it came to making Reyr beg.

How hungover would she be come morning?

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-23-2016


Visions of lush green, of thick foliage. Orbital pressure passing over the nose of the ship. Alarms. Rocking, jerking motions. Decorations displaced. Turbulence. Flashing lights. Gravity pulling, attempting to split the hull. Approach. Blinding emeralds and breathtaking golds.

Rhailo awoke drenched in sweat, luminous eyes wide in the darkness as though expecting to find a ghost lost in the reflections of space. The massive windows overlooking the cosmos brought no sense of calm. Instead, an eerie foreboding tore at her thoughts as dim pictures of her dream remained plastered as recent memories. She had felt him - his panic, his resolve, his yearning - yet how was that possible? He was dead, and she was in mourning; locked away to weep. Her heart hammered violently, enough that she worried over the pace, causing her hands to trail ethereal light towards her chest, and rest over the erratic heartbeat.

Brax would think she was crazy.

They had said their farewells and released the lingering sadness his death had caused, yet Rhailo was no more removed from the loss than she had once been. All she could think about was the possibility. Could he be alive? Their ties were intimate, and for weeks, she had felt nothing from him; no pull. No messages had been sent. A line of contact, psionic or scientific, was never made. All she heard was the distant human of a life force out of reach, an empty highway of thought blocked from her senses. That was why, and how, Brax had assured her that Demagol wasn't coming back. That vacant lane of communication wasn't returning her pleas for contact, and if there was nothing to answer, there was no Mandalorian left to yearn for.

Be it his personal choice, or his inability to respond, she might never have known...

But tonight was different.

Tonight, in the wee hours of the morning when the rest of the ship's crew slept peacefully in their chambers, Rhailo Destros saw Demagol among the fern and flora of a foreign planet, alive. Where her hands were planted at her heart, the woman squeezed weakly as if unable to stem the tide of emotions her revelation brought upon her. Shaking at the knee, the Auroun stumbled from her bed and lurched through the darkness until she met with the switch on the far wall. Flipping it on, the room glowed with pale white luminescence her eyes had little difficulty adjusting to.

She had to do something. Whether Brax believed her or not, she couldn't leave the matter be. The drain of her sorrow was too much, and to live half broken was no life Rhailo cared to partake in.

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-29-2016


Autumn swept across the Court of Seven like a blanket of deep reds, toffee tans, and tree bark browns. The sky above, which was glamoured as heavily as free reign magic saw fit, reflected those colors as if a giant body of water encompassed the capital and what imagery showed within its reach was displayed. The surface rippled at times, the flow sizzling with the seasons, though the shifting was calm in its current state. Winter was just around the corner. The whole of Arcadia, steeped in the beauty of the mirage ceiling, shined like a jewel bathed in radiance, though the creatures who called the crown city of their empire home didn't respect the artistry of the landscape. A world sculpted by hand, molded from the ether, yet not a single beautiful face turned in awe at such sights. Rising towers and open gardens, connected by pathways so clean, they were fit to lay across as one watched the enchanted sky.

Forgotten, as extravagance often was over countless years.

It was only Taiga who seemed wooed, struck by a sense of wonderment she knew directly related to her usual distance from the capital. Her work was elsewhere, in the realms of men, and nothing outside of Arcadia could compare to the majesty. Chest tightening, she felt overwhelmed yet also welcome. It was so strange to feel so strongly connected to one place, but the magic of the dimension smothered her senses in exhilaration and something akin to remorse as if she had lost a great deal to be among her kind. Or maybe she had lost more by being away from Arcadia for so long.

There was no right answer to the questions that plagued her conscious.

While the trees lining the walkway shifted and sang a song older than Taiga's kind, she noted the changes to her appearance. Her tattoos were gone, the scars she once bore now distant memories. Her eyes without the aid of glamour burned within their sockets like amethyst fires, the triad of purples circling counterclockwise around her stationary pupils. Outwardly, she was glowing, her skin pale and pristine like she had swallowed the moon and refused to release it back from whence it came. Had she missed being so beautiful? Perhaps at times when she was traveling with Nic through the darkness of the fleshlands, battle weary. Self-pity wasn't attractive, though neither was deceit.

She told herself time and time again that she would be honest with herself, even if she was not allowed the courtesy of such acts around other Fae.

The Fae did not lie directly. They were mastered of subtle roundabout thoughts, and cunning conversational tactics, but to lie to another being's face was unwise. To be caught was to be branded an oath breaker, and while Taiga was many things, she was none so heinous among the court of the Fae. Oath breakers were cast aside, their wings taken. There was no redemption, only ostracization. Most Fae took this to heart, as there were no current records of a Fae living for any prolonged extent of time after being cast out. Most chose to simply return to the lae lines in a bid at a new life, and as far as Taiga had considered such a thing, she felt she would do the same.

Fall foliage canopied the closing distance between the grand entrance of the Seven Wings and where she was, each step alive with the energy of the harvest, each stray leaf to fall dissolving just as it's drifting body met with the ground. The stronghold rose above her, threatening to breach that beautiful sky filling the horizon. A place of records, of politics, and of clans in power. History lived in the monolithic structure, written in the marble and glass, etched across the wood. An ivory township within a city of alabaster and pearl. At times, she wished for nothing more than to be far from the steps of the Seven Wings but now was different. There was a purpose in her stride, a reason for arriving unannounced to the only home she had known for thousands of years.

Taiga felt taller here, entering the hall to see the paintings of her ancestors aside other Fae notables. Without her glamour, she was inhuman in height and slender as a reed. All grace, swaying, without the disguise she insisted upon while living within a cage of humanity. Without a need to hide, Arcadia saw fit to deny it's residence the ability to do so. No personal glamour could withstand the auspex of the city, and so the woman was left to remain inhuman; a walking torch of blazing white with pinholes of mauve bleeding from her eyes. Haunting elsewhere, but a sight considered normal here among the Fae. The tapestries moved and reenacted battles and festivities, each telling a story of times long since passed.

Would she one day find her presence immortalized among the art of the castle?

A concept she didn't have resources to dwell on, the thought was pushed aside as the seven corresponding corridors branching from the choke point of the main hall came into view. Each bore the name of the clan connected, all seven houses represented in an almost plain manner, stripped of refinement so only carved stone lettering gave a sense of individuality. Vereaux to the farthest left, followed by Englos, Arden, Barris as the middle most path, Valencoste, Morandori, and finally the Quies on the far right; a semi-circle wrapping around the room. Clan Barris' nameplate was seated slightly higher than the rest, though the archways leading to their respective destinations were exact replicas of one another. No two differed, and the doors at the end of each corridor were equally similar. Some more used than others, especially in the case of the Arden, meaning that path had the most visitors over the ages.

It wasn't surprising that her clan's wing was so worn in, given the necessity of the Arden. For every Fae created, an Arden was assigned. They outnumbered the other clans ten to one. Even so, there was hardly anything formidable about the Arden, save for their talents as watchers, and ultimately, the keepers of the history of Fae. The other clans rarely argued with them for fear they would lose their dedicated historians, and the Fae were a vainglorious sort who needed that kind of adoration to thrive. The Arden rarely took offense to minor slights, as it was said they were most tolerant among the reigning clans, bearers of the best traits between the Englos and the Vereaux.

From three, there came to be six. From six, a seventh was forged. That was the start of the hierarchy at large; the council ruling the Faerie realm of Arcadia.

Her fiery gaze tore free as she walked towards the mouth of the corridor to her clan's wing, the barrier slowly wrenching itself open like the door of a massive safe. The inside appeared pitch black momentarily as she stepped through, though once the door had closed, light flooded around the great library as it materialized into existence. It appeared endless, the catacombs within the athenaeum collected over lifetimes of Arden watchers chronicling their charges. A collective of information brought to words by the diligent few who the clan could afford to keep behind. Arden in-between being dedicated to a charge, or those too frail to exist outside Arcadia were prime candidates. It was thankless labor with long hours and constant upkeep to maintain, but the prized few were exceptional in their efforts.

The Arden pursued the truth above all things so their annals were never lacking. Their kind deserved nothing less than a complete record.

A series of four wooden desks cut to crescents formed a circular center point to the great archive, and at one such desk, Caspian sat with his head bowed. His hands ran against the pages of an aged tome, the glow of his body a beacon inside the warmly lit gallery. She could tell he was busy, but his voice cut through relative silence when even his eyes dared not look.

"I know why you have come." Each pass his fingers made against the delicate parchment brought words to the page, the written message of thoughts spilling directly from his mind. Still standing, Taiga wished she knew just what that meant, but she didn't ask. Instead, she stepped closer before falling to her knees in the open before the gathering of tables.

"Des will need a replacement." Her skin burned slightly as the patriarch brought his scrutiny to his guest. "As well as a means to rest. Her essence remains elsewhere."

"She deserves better, doesn't she?" What mirth played Caspian's features was a lie. Taiga looked up to meet his gaze but was met with the lost feelings of home. Instead of warmth, they held emptiness. A tired ache that didn't belong behind such a handsome visage. It was as if she had come home, but there was no family to greet her. No furniture to remind her of the good times she had once associated with the house. She could pace the empty halls in search, but there was nothing left of what had once dwelt inside those walls. What remained frightened her, and his ache seemed contagious as she too felt it seeping through her very essence to corrupt her core.

There were tears in his eyes as he said, "It is so rare to lose one we love that I had forgotten this pain." Clapping shut the book he had been working in, Caspian beckoned Taiga to rise. She did so, immediately coming to sit in a chair next to the patriarch while his hands held hers. Perhaps he needed an anchor. A release from this sole burden he was meant to bear. Taiga wouldn't allow their leader to carry his pain alone, even if it meant rekindling the pain she had gone to great lengths trying to swallow before her return to the white city. "She was your sister. I expect the pain you feel is equal to my own."

"No." Taiga admitted quietly, her brow knitting while the flames of her eyes rested on the tri-colored hues Caspian possessed. Spinning, they resembled a whirlpool in the middle of the ocean, the three distinct shades of blue moving fast around his dilated pupils. "There is no loss that compares to the loss of a child."

Caspian sighed, and the sound tugged at Taiga's heart as if it were a stringed instrument only he was capable of playing. "And where do we place our blame this time? The cause of our anguish lies where?" The question itself seemed sharp and the words stung Taiga. She didn't want to answer, but she knew the truth. She knew who he meant. While she lowered her features to hide the tears in her eyes, Caspian did no such thing. His head remained high, kingly, as tears streamed down his cheeks. He didn't sob, but as surely as they sat there in the quiet of the library, he wept precious tears for the fallen Arden.

"That thing should receive no further watchers." Surprising herself with the words, Taiga must have shown her shock because Caspian released a hollow laugh.

"You know I cannot deny one of the Vereaux," He replied, a hand breaking the grasp they had maintained so he could wipe his eyes with the back of his knuckles. "Especially not the one who falsely wears our name."

"There must be a way to rid ourselves of her. Caspian, please, do not send another of my siblings to their slaughter. Des... Des should be treated as a cautionary example. Her memory deserves more than a replacement to fill her role. She isn't replaceable."

He seemed to be thinking, and for a moment, there were no words between the Arden pair. Then, slowly, Caspian explained, "We have lost many of our brothers and sisters through the years, Taiga. My children have been snuffed from creation for as long as I've had children. I cannot show favoritism towards Des' case, even if it pains me gravely to send another with the task Des was unable to accomplish." He sighed again, quietly, his face a mask of placidity betrayed only by his tone. "We may mourn her as we see fit, but our allegiance is to the truth of our kind, and to deny that Chance Vereaux is a catalyst would diminish our value with the council. Most of what we know of the scourge of the Vereaux was because of Des' efforts. We cannot let her hard work be wasted after she sacrificed so much."

Wanting to argue, but finding she couldn't, Taiga let free a resigned whisper of breath. Caspian, unaging and as close to immortal as their clan knew to exist, was right. She didn't have the heart to argue further, not with tears blotting her vision, increasingly hard to ignore in the way they decorated her lashes. Heatless fires were drowned by tears, eyes unable to see so long as the pain they held felt bold enough to present itself. She wanted to scream, to beg, to stomp and rage and feel the human feelings the fleshlands drew out of her body when she was far from the mute clutches of Arcadia. She knew then why she didn't wish to stay, to live among the other Fae in the decadence and splendor. There was only control her, and Taiga had grown accustomed to feeling more than the ghosts of emotions left by human interaction.

It was a wonder Caspian was capable of showing his emotions after so long removed from humanity. A leader as pure of heart as he deserved more than secondhand accounts of his family being destroyed by those they were entrusted to watch.

"Who do you plan to send as a replacement?" Taiga managed to ask, albeit softly. She had half a mind to pledge herself, but she was sworn to Nicholaus, and to abandon her charge for another was just another form of oath breaking. A contract between them existed, and not only Nic and herself knew this, but Caspian as well.

"I believe Laurie is the most suited for the task." He spoke in opinions because to state a fact would be a lie. No one could be certain just which Fae was fit to follow Chance Vereaux, and the more seasoned Arden were predisposed like Taiga, unable to volunteer even if they wanted to. Taiga recognized the name, though vaguely, as this was one of her younger siblings. Barely old enough to have finished studies and training. The skepticism worn on her face was enough to earn a nod from Caspian.

"Yes, I can tell you do not approve of my choice." He didn't sound angry, though he had right to be. Taiga was his child and an inferior that had no room to pass judgment on her superior's choices. "It was difficult to make. We are less than we were in numbers. Our best are unable to break an oath to their sworn charges, and many of our youngest are not ready to leave Arcadia. Laurie is what we have available to offer. Laurie is who we must put our trust into."

"Yes, Caspian." Taiga whispered, taking one parting glance at his strong features, the short sweep of his golden quills rich in color like sunlight through fresh honey. "I understand."

"Arrangements are being made for Des' return to the Dreaming, Taiga. I assure you that I will do my best to honor her memory, and word will be sent to all of your brothers and sisters when the time comes." Pausing, Caspian straightened his posture before his other hand was removed from Taiga, leaving her to clasp those unsteady palms together in her lap. "But you have come with other news, haven't you?"

In wake of discussing Des, it didn't seem appropriate to mention anything else. Not even Aisling and her plans she briefly spoke to Artemis about. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Can I talk about it for you?" As he always seemed, so too did Caspian come off knowledgeable of matters Taiga hadn't thought him aware of. At least, she believed it concerned Aisling, as her life otherwise was mostly chronicling Nic on his adventures, which left desperate few opportunities to adventure on her own. Not that she minded. She was old enough to have grown weary of traveling alone, and what was left to explore remained far from the safety of the mortal realm; far from Aisling. Nothing of that nature appealed to her sense of discovery. Sad as it was, it was the truth.

A Fae uncomfortable with the wanderlust accompanying her lifestyle. What a cruel cosmic joke.

"If you like, you may." Finally tending to her tears, the woman wiped them away in the same fashion as her creator, deliberately trying to remain attentive even as she did this. She had missed his voice like a sailor misses the scent of the sea. It was what remained of her upbringing, a reminder that no great challenge accomplished would compare to the peace their solemn wing of Arcadia brought her.

"You have never been in love before, but I hear that is the case now." The glimmer in his eyes made it seem so secretive as if Taiga hadn't mentioned it to another soul. He wanted to be her confidante, and she let him, matching his easy smile with one of her own.

"Yes. She is beautiful and bright. A sunrise. A moonbeam. She can speak to voices beyond." An air of whimsy clung to the words, their spill from her throat as natural as her need for the fortune teller in question. "She has a gift, Caspian. She is beyond what I know of humans. She is something entirely different."

"Your paramour sounds divine." His head tilted as he asked thoughtfully, "But do you worry about her life?"

"What do you mean?"

Gesturing openly with his hands, Caspian rose from his seat and padded softly away, wings against his back sharing the coloration of a falcon. "Do not forget who you are, Taiga Arden. A woman of mortal blood is a blessing, of course, but also a great liability. Fragility will be seen, and some might wish to capitalize on that weakness." He rubbed the stubble at his cheek, unable to entirely rid himself of facial hair even when they were safe from humanity's influences. He had spent too many years among the flesh, and so did the patriarch permanently change over time. Aged in a way. His height towered even at the distance between them, broad shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "I worry for your heart as much as I worry for your body. Your essence will always return to the Dreaming, and you will be born anew - but the rest can be broken. An old soul like myself wishes only the best for my fledglings."

Turning back to Taiga, he added in a whisper that had no issue carrying to where she remained seated, "Promise you will be careful. Be her protector, her champion, but Taiga, do not be a martyr for this woman."

There was that feeling again, the distant call of rage that she couldn't manipulate in Arcadia. There were no means to harness the anger, not a viable outlet to explore the depths of her fury. Instead, it was a nagging sensation. It ate at her stomach, her chest, and up to her shoulders. It caused her wings to jitter violently, though even that was no more than a show. Mouth opened only to close, her words stuck halfway up her throat like she was choking. It was the best she could do not to scream at him, irrational as it may have seemed. Steeling herself as she forced herself to stand, the easing of her muscles followed suit while her hands wrung anxiously.

"I know my place!" Managing not to snarl, the message still sounded arrogant. Inappropriate. "I'm not stupid..."

"No, my dear, you have never been stupid... But you are willful, and you know the tales as well as I do. Our hubris is the key to our undoing." Walking back to Taiga, Caspian wrapped his long arms around her much thinner frame and pressed a kiss against the crown of her head. "Please try to be safe. Keep Aisling safe as well. She makes your glow that much brighter, and to see you smile, I know she is worth one of my most valuable treasures."

She didn't struggle nor did she wish to, given how rare she had contact with other Fae. She just leaned into his chest and sighed with each breath, trying to maintain a relative calm to match their tranquil library. "I will continue to try, Caspian. I always do."

Another kiss was planted atop the first, into the spill of her mauve tresses, before he released her gently. "Now you must go. The longer you stay, the harder leaving will be."

Catching herself biting her bottom lip, Taiga took a few careful steps backward. "Never forget I love you very much. I worry about you as well. I worry more than anyone realizes, and it pains me to be so far from the clan. From you." Her smile was a meager thing, all tilted lip corners and forced muscle control.

"And I, you." Nodding, he looked elsewhere, reminiscent. "You remind me very much of your mother, Taiga. Gods, how unruly she could be when she believed she was doing the right thing. You never knew when she was angry or just passionate." He looked back to Taiga with a hearty chuckle. "Oh, but she knew love and could love more fiercely than any other Fae I have encountered. She said it was our greatest strength, stolen from humanity but perfected by the Fae."

"You rarely speak of her." It had come so abruptly to hear Caspian speak of Mercai that Taiga almost missed the praise implied. "I know it hurts you the most out of all of us to think of her gone."

"But the pain I feel is worth the years she was mine. I would carry this pain for eternity for the memories I am lucky enough to retain." His hand brushed over the cover of the tome before giving it a reassuring pat. "Her life lives on here, so here is where I stay with her."

Taiga, usually so long winded, left in silence. Thinking of family. Thinking of more than that. No, it was of the clan and their commitments. Of their importance. Once, Taiga had believed they were the least necessary clan in the realms, bogged down by paperwork and history lessons. Only then, as she left Caspian, did she realize just how important the Arden were.

"Where would our history go without us?" She murmured, alone and headed back to the breach in the veil. "Would we cease to be?" She decided they would. Dreams had brought them to life, but how they remained ripe with vitality relied heavily on those recollections cataloged in the great library.

Where Caspian guided his flock and tended to the stories of their brethren clans.

The only place Taiga considered home.

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 10-08-2016



"RHAILO, STOP!"

As his arms grabbed her, the woman's physical presence wavered like a digital hologram, causing her features to turn towards where Brax stood with his face wearing a guise of apprehension. "I'm sorry, Brax."

Lashing out at the false Rhailo, Brax howled with rage as his slender figure crumpled towards the floor of the ship. Met by metal panels and sterile white walls, the projection knelt near him, as distressed over his actions as Rhailo's psyche could manage to convey from a distance. His defeat echoed with those long howls, mournful cries that almost caused the real Rhailo to turn her shuttle around and return to her twin; they were inhumane sounds she wished never to hear again. Gritting his teeth, he growled through them, reduced to savage echoes as he snarled a question.

"And what becomes of you should you find him?! WHAT THEN?"

The doppelganger brought a ghostly set of digits to her brother's cheek, unable to touch him, though trying to imply the sentiment of closeness in his time of need. "I save him."

"For what? So he can keep you from your people? From me? Even if he lives, why did he leave you? How can you forgive this?" Crashing his fist into the plating where he sat, the floor dented under the impact. "Why are you doing this?"

Hesitating at his anger, Rhailo only offered a weak admission of, "Because I love him."

"But what does love matter to us, Rhailo? What had love ever done for you? The pain you were in - I can't feel that again! I can't carry this burden for you, and alone, you won't be able to survive the heartache he will cause you." Faltering, Brax swallowed, his eyes wide and wild as they stared at the projection of his sister. "I can't lose you, Rhailo. Not to him."

Elsewhere, in the dark of space, Rhailo Destros felt tears leak from their ducts, creating warm trails down her pale cheeks. The console beeped, honing in on the coordinates she had given the ship, though she was unable to see the flight path. Only Brax's neat visage, suffering, remained clear in her mind's eye. "Brax..."

"Who else will love you entirely, Rhailo? Demagol? He can fuck you and make you empty promises until he grows tired of you, but I'm the only one who truly loves you for you. The council cut my ties, Rhailo- they stole my capability to love anyone... What remains is our bond, and to lose that would be my end. That much I promise you."

"Braxiskroi, please." Begging, the woman's projected image leaned as close as it was capable of going to offer the ghost of an embrace around his shoulders. "He wouldn't do that. He isn't a competitor, and we both know that. He needs me now. Now, while he's stranded and alone, and I can bring him back to us."

"To us? What? You think he had any intention of keeping you with me? With our kind?"

The question earned a pause in Rhailo's replies, her expression offering little in way of assistance to her cause. Finally, quietly, the woman admitted, "No. No, he would not wish to stay with the Auroun."

"Don't give me false hope, Rhailosiobhan. I deserve better than pretty lies!" One last spell of rage coursed through the fair skinned male as the same spot he had impounded before was struck a second, and then third, time. "He will be the death of us both!"

"I don't believe that," Rhailo answered gently, her apparition beginning to dissipate as her spacecraft traveled outside the range of her communicative capabilities. "Just trust me, Brax- trust me not to abandon you."

"How can I when you run to his aid?" Having settled in amid the aftermath of his tantrum, bloody knuckles rose when their digits pushed back a shock of white hair from his eyes.

"Wouldn't you do the same for me?"

She was gone before he could answer her, though that didn't stop Brax from uttering miserably under his breath, "Yes."

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 10-10-2016

The ongoing process of spiffing up my first post.
How do I have so many OCs?
I only did half of them.
Disgusting.
I'll do more later.

Thank goodness I wrote some backstory, because that's what I needed. OTL

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 10-14-2016

K-List for safe keeping.

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