Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Printable Version

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 06-16-2017

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 06-21-2017

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-18-2017

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 09-29-2017


She said it in her husky drawl, the alcohol heavily wafting where it drifted around Phae, her evening helping of endorphins fading fast as the last of the energy drained from her tired frame. New bruises blossomed across the outline of her jaw, crawling up tan flesh until they resigned with a splash of swollen skin; a wine red soon to mellow into burgundy highlights. Within another day or so, the injuries would contrast as a line of vague spots in dusky shades of blue tracing her bone structure, but if her limbs were still in working order, there wasn't much she would worry about. She could still chew the inside of her cheek, which she did as her unsteady steps teetered through the quiet apartment.

Her mother simply watched the spectacle with a secret sorrow buried behind pale hues.

"Phaerakaus..." But when mouthed from her lips, Phae couldn't hear the plea, and trudged along with the same blind ignorance she had worn for the better part of her adulthood. Years of silence and swallowed arguments, and of course, the guilt - that's all Khalun had to fall back on when it came to her only child. The strong, independent daughter she had raised alone. The vibrant young woman who harbored no ill will toward her upbringing. At least none that Khalun was privy to. Of course, there had been spats and bickering. A lifetime gave endless opportunities for such things, didn't it? They had fought amongst themselves because there had never been a third to stand between them. It was peculiar.

Phae had mentioned the peculiarity of her mother's bachelorette status several times but to no ends beside a knowing smile and Khalun's correction.

"Bachelorette would imply I'm younger than I am, dear."

Perhaps this much was true, but Phae insisted it made no sense that Khalun didn't attempt to date. It wasn't as though there was any hint of her father in the picture to protest. Phae always made sure to include this adage with the hope it might persuade her mother. It didn't. When it came in usual and inevitable mention, Khalun steered the conversation away from her marital status and on to other more approachable topics. Anything easy to digest. Anything not involving her uninvolved lifestyle. Once, when Phae had become broody after this part of the back and forth, Khalun offered, "I've had my fill of men. Enough to last me a lifetime, and longer still."

Maybe that was enough of an answer for Phae. She asked less in recent times, and only in passing; between outings and over dishes cleared after meals. No more persistence fueling a line of questioning. Just gentle words backed by the whispers of lifelong curiosity. She asked because she felt obligated to, and Khalun respected this but would never have an acceptable answer for her only daughter.

They were distant in recent years. Phae was a grown-up, living the life of a grown-up, and Khalun struggled not to baby her in the brief windows they were in close proximity.

"You think it's enough?"

Between the twins, a digital display offered a meager number across the face of the screen, earning a troubled sigh from the Elder brother. "For exactly one night of fun."

"Isn't that all we need?" The younger male asked, his smile slightly lopsided while his lids narrowed to register their account information to his memory. "Transport tomorrow, fun tonight?"

"Guess it depends on what we're doing for fun." Euripedes cast a sidelong glance at Zuriphes to gauge just how closely his sibling was paying attention. "We've gotta focus on something both of us can do. You know, like maybe-"

Jutting out a hand frantically, Zuri motioned to the sauntering hips passing them by, the neon halo following the unfamiliar femme indicating she was working. "Her!" He ushered excitedly before looking to Euri for approval. "Let's do her- Both of us. We'll make a sport of it, yeah?"

If Euripedes was shocked, the sentiment never reached his countenance. "Alright."

---​

Khalun'era Tamorae worked long hours on her feet and longer hours on her back.

Aboard the Euphrates space station, it wasn't uncommon to see escorts strutting the length of the tourist sector, their bare legs ending in designer wedges and heels that glittered with Jedda diamonds and Roth Khaanian gold decal buckles. Purses made from Anjoutuh web in intricate designs, their skin toned nylons shimmering in low light; bodies swaying and bending and stretching. There was enough flesh to appreciate, though more if the price was paid. Each of these lovely creatures was licensed for practice, a projection of flashing credentials circling the circumference of their person with scrolling text regarding limitations and acceptable rates.

In this business, the competition was fierce due to the nature of the profession, but Khalun was a creature known far and wide as a rarity. A treasure. Across her holo broadcast in big bold letters read "AUROUN", and more often than not, that was all a customer needed to feel impulsive enough to pay her incredibly steep fee.

Pale lashes lazily blinked as she passed by the Rasmodian brothers, her sights elsewhere and her mind completely devoid of any interest concerning the pair.

---​

Where she was going, they were following. Euri in the lead with a slow gait that denoted his casualness toward their plan, Zuri eagerly dogging behind while asking far too many questions of his equally uncertain brother.

"Do you think she'll do a double?" The younger pressed forth, his third reiteration of the same question in just as many minutes, though now with the hint of a whine catching the end of 'double'. He cleared his throat with a forced cough to shake his anxiety, noting his wavering vocals just as Euri might. "Is she even working? Maybe she's headed home?"

"We'll follow until we catch up," Euri explained coolly, dragging a set of squared fingers through chestnut locks. An uncommon shade for the pair, but with a healthy population of Terrans darting around, they fit right into the late night crowd. "If she ends up inaccessible, we cut our losses and find a club nearby. No harm, no foul." Flashing a patronizing smile, he added as the two of them ducked to avoid a low ceiling while descending a transit stairwell, "I'll do all the talking if you're feeling shy."

But it wasn't shyness Zuripedes felt from his eight or so yards away from the mysterious woman. No, it was much closer to longing - a desperate and daunting dilemma fascinating him as their stalking trail moved ever closer to hustling hips and a deliciously transparent skirt that left very little to the viewer's imagination. Gods, I could just... He didn't need to explain this enticement to his twin because, even while remaining characteristically self-assured, Euri led the charge.

Minutes felt like hours, the passing collage of cybernetic influence meeting slate metal accents and soft glowing electrical guts. It wasn't until they were genuinely lost that the men finally reached her, and with as much candor as Euri could muster while remaining inoffensive, he ushered forth, "We have credits if you have time, Khalun'era."

---​

Tourists were the Auroun's favorite customers because they only bothered her when they had their credits on hand to spend. They didn't plead for bargains or discounts because of some assumed returning customer policy, nor did they spend every waking moment trying to learn more than just which positions she was good at. A customer who treated the transaction as a transaction earned bonus points from the woman, regardless their initial approach. The two in her peripherals rose above her slight stature, coming to stand over her left side while making a valiant effort to match the brisk pace she so often used to leave Faustus Square. Khalun made her own hours, of course, so it wasn't a matter of whether or not she was on the clock. Rather, it was a matter of how she felt about her potential suitors for the evening.

Coyly, her starry eyes appraised each in turn, shameless in how their roaming traced from the tips of their oxfords to the notch lapels of their blazers. Coifed textured quiff haircuts on both, the matching features of the men different only in their expressions. One stood confidently, waiting for her answer, while the other male teetered in the wings of his brother's presence. He only looked at her long enough to make the barest eye contact before shying those chocolate brown irises toward anything reasonably nearby. Khalun found the brothers adorable, though men hated being called anything other than their preferred terms of endearment, so she buttoned her lip on what snark threatened to breathe through and moved forward with the potential conversation.

Chin tipping in a gesture to indicate the direct she was headed, Khalun asked, "I'm headed this way- Where's your hotel room?"

The speaker of the pair chuckled warmly as he admitted, "Any way you're headed. We'll take a room for the night if you'll be with us."

Askance, Khalun's portrait tilted. "Just like that?" Of course, it would be a tourist who would offer a room in the part of the station the Auroun cared to work in. Silly boys overthinking their odds. "It's 92,000 each for..." She licked her lips thoughtfully when offering an estimate, "The next 12 hours, give or take."

[literally working on this one right now omg. finally gonna threeway this alien babesquad - we're going for gold, team]

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Telluric - Kat - 01-05-2018

Long has there been conflicts between neighboring civilizations, and though the reasons have differed, the ultimate goal remained the same.

Power.

With control of the galaxy comes control of those within galactic reach, counting more than 100,000 sentient races and their respective resources. Humanity has imagined holding such power since their earliest dreams of traversing the depths of outer space, but these dreams have only been considered a potential reality since prioritization of space travel and satellite colonization. Mars, Europa, and the space station Euphrates are considered some of humanity's greatest accomplishments concerning galactic expansion, but not all of the feats achieved by humanity are viewed kindly by bordering empires. The farther humanity pushes their boundaries, the more enemies they amass.

Eons ago, a system of gates was constructed to traverse the known universe. The ancients considered their existence to be vital in the effort to unite the greater galactic powers, but something went terribly wrong, and the technology was lost. Only recently have the some of the gates been discovered, and though there are races actively trying to study the relics, other races care only for the promise of the unexplained powers the gates possess. It is said that the gates were not only pathways through the cosmos, but beacons harnessing spacial energy comparable to thousands of suns. In the wrong hands, a race could potentially reshape the very galaxy they occupy.

The two biggest players in this galactic struggle are the Free Galactic Alliance [FGA] and the New Galactic Republic [NGR]. The FGA, led by the Orsen, declared war on the NGR and Humanity after disagreements over the finding and potential use of the gates turned ugly. Humanity, leading the NGR, has stated publically that they wish to use the gates for their intended purpose - unification of the galaxy. The FGA, less publically, has shown interest in the gates and spy reports indicate they are exploring technology to locate the remaining gates. The war between the NGR and the FGA rages onward despite heavy losses on both sides. The gates are the only hope of ending the conflict, but finding them is easier said than done.

A third party in the Gates war is the Galactic Traders Guild [GTG], independently owned and operated by the races that were once part of the United Galactic Embassy. The Spacestation Euphrates is their home, and their purpose is to continue trade through the galaxy regardless who is fighting who. In this, they've taken an active part in the discovery of the gates because of the efficiency such ancient means of travel would offer their enterprise. Many would consider the GTG a small player in a large conflict, but they possess something no one else in the galaxy does.

They have a key.

Armed to explore, the key is entrusted to a small crew hired by the GTG with a clear mission in mind. Seek the gates at any costs. If the FGA or the NGR win the war, the freedom of the galaxy is at stake, leaving an inevitable power vacuum in the wake of the proclaimed "victor". The GTG consulted with Psions and Spellshapers and Scryers, but the future reads the same way in most alternate timelines - a grim, chaotic cataclysm that would set back thousands of races by millions of years if it doesn't wipe them out completely. The key is the only means to truly understand the ancient power of the gates, and with only one left in known existence now in transit, it mustn't fall into the wrong hands.





Aquuada

Auroun

Avian

Cyborg

Foa

Human Most populous race. Currently in major conflict with Free Galactic Alliance [FGA] (Orsen/Foa/Naki/Avian/Taasi). Allied with New Galactic Republic [NGR] (Quai/Zydrosi).

Ku'rhom

Naki

Orsen

Quai

Taasi

Zydrosi


2040 - Robotics is the fastest growing science of all time as lifelike robots are created en masse for consumers, filling pockets in the world's workforce as well as allowing the population to change their primary focus from climate change and control to space exploration.

2048 - Fully cybernetic framework is constructed for first ever brain transplant into an artificial body.
2054 - The law stating that only individuals in need of cybernetic augments are allowed to receive them is repealed. The Humanity Law is written, stating that as long as a brain is functioning in the operation of the machine, the citizen is considered human.

2063 - First successful human mission to Mars.
2091 - The Mars colonization and terraforming initiative are announced.
2094 - Colonization of the Echo basin on Mars begins.
2103 - Colonization of the Oscar ravine on Mars begins.
2115 - Mars terraforming project begins.

2109 - The Europa probe reaches Jupiter.
2153 - The Europa III crew reports signs of primitive life. The Pouchek (named for the lead science officer on the expedition) is discovered.
2197 - Harper military outpost is founded in Europa, near the Corrigan continental shelf.
2249 - First contact with Tau Ceti planetary cluster.
2256 - Aquuada-Human alliance formed.
2283 - Aquuada-Human alliance renounced. Paxton-Dansfield war begins.
2290 - Truce declared between Aquuada and humanity.

2320 - First contact with Sirius planetary cluster. Zydrosi peace party first to discuss alien involvement in human evolution.
2328 - United Galactic Embassy formed. Locations are built on Europa, Earth, Mars, the Zydrosi satellite world of Tii Phie, and the Aquuada homeworld of Riskan.
2333 - The Galactic trade route is established and open to any space crafts licensed and capable of travel in deep space.

2411 - An expedition to the Vega solar system is lost. Later, a hostile message is received from Orsen attackers.
2418 - Human/Orsen war, later called the Baldwin Galactic Standoff, ends in a shaky truce.
2446 - Galactic Space Port, The Euphrates, is open to the residents of the Milky Way galaxy. Taasi, Auroun, and Naki make formal introductions to the United Galactic Embassy. Locations are built on the Taasi homeworld of Leuck, the Auroun satellite world of Cariot'lo, and the Naki homeworld of Tallist-3c.
2473 - Orsen Warchief agrees to join United Galactic Embassy. A small embassy is built on Trejoro Alpha, neutral planet closest to the Orsen homeworld, Shersurhai.

2508 - United Galactic Embassy consists of Humans, Aquuada, Zydrosi, Taasi, Auroun, Naki, Orsen, and Ku'rhom, as well as smaller races such as the Quai, the Foa, and the Crrrrrekssschesssteeeek (known commonly as the Avians).

2577 - Martian foreign affairs secretary is assassinated; terrorist group Gura Dea claims responsibility.
2577 - Accusations against the Orsen's official war council leads to the Orsen planetary alliance leaving the United Galactic Embassy to form the Free Galactic Alliance [FGA], taking with them the Foa, the Naki, the Avians, and the Taasi. Humanity retaliates with the creation of the New Galactic Republic [NGR], including the Quai and the Zydrosi.

2578 - The Auroun separate themselves from the struggles of the galaxy, hiding on their homeworld of Ixxin'lo.
2579 - The Zydrosi discover relics on their homeworld of Aio Nii Sica. Relics provide coordinates to the Arcturus solar system, with mention to a series of gates.
2588 - Aha Rah, the Red Hand, steals the relics from the compound they were being studied in. The Zydrosi thief claims there is nothing but danger to be found with the discovery of the gates. Before he can be caught, Aha Rah is found dead on Trejoro Alpha. The relics were never recovered.
2604 - A human crew on Mars discovers an ancient structure similar in design to the relics lost by the Zydrosi.
2687 - An Avian monarch destroys a structure on Herata IV designed like the one previously found on Mars, stating he would sooner die than see the return of the darkness. He is later forced to resign due to the civil outrage he caused among his fiefdoms.
2706 - The NGR demands that the FGA release their information on the gateways when news of a discovery on Trejoro Alpha reaches the republic. The Alliance denies any such discovery, but closes off access to Trejoro Alpha to all non-Orsen galactic citizens.
2708 - The Gate Conflict begins, shortening the Galactic Trade Route in a manner to cut off members of the FGA.

(more stuff about things)

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 01-16-2018

Personel File
Full name:
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Gender:
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Birth Date:
Age:
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Visual Identification
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Scars/Tattoos/Piercings: [link to an image or give a written description]
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Equipment
► Weapons: [link to an image or give a written description]
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► Accessories/Miscellaneous: [Personal effects, sentimental possessions, etc.]

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➣ [General/Preferred Style]: [description of style]
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Path of [Name of the path]:
☆ [ability 1]: [ability description]
☆ [ability 2]: [ability description]

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Relationship Status: Single.
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Personal History/Background: [3+ paragraphs backstory. Feel free to write more than the expected amount.]

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 02-08-2018

No one spoke on Ixxin'lo.

For countless millennia, the Auroun were without a spoken language of their own. Only thoughts shared between thinkers, visions passed from one user's mind to another, and the subtle and spectacular art of body language. Eventually, the introduction of foreign races into the Auroun culture pushed the native Ixxin'lo population to develop a dialect of their own called Auzi. Generations later, it was a regulation educational material, as necessary to the curriculum as Galactic Standard, though less frequently used. In actuality, many Auroun adolescents pushed their Auzi lessons to the furthest recesses of their minds with no intention of using the seemingly archaic language.

As susceptible as any sentient creature confident in their psionic abilities, the Auroun succumbed to hubris and decided by and large to refrain from the use of spoken dialogue unless in the company of lesser beings. This predominantly consisted of Embassy races and their secondary allies elsewhere, but with the collective acceptance of Galactic Standard, additional languages were considered redundant and ineffective. In this, Auzi fell victim to tax cuts and lessened teaching qualifications. It wasn't until Cariot'lo was released from empirical council rule that Auzi seemed close to extinction, teetering on the precipice so many dead languages had fallen victim to. It was no longer viable in the everyday lives of Auroun, no longer realistic based on the length of time becoming fluent in Auzi took average students, and no longer considered a cultural anchor since the Auroun considered spoken dialects to be impediments of their innate talents.

But Rio took nine awful years of Auzi courses.

Luckily, so did Eon.


Arc'phi District was blindingly white.

From the pebbled roads and neo prism walkways to the towering cloud spires half lost in hazy violet tones, there was no better example of Ixxin'lo uniformity than Rautrah'ai's Arc'phi District. Wesker cycles zoomed by inaudibly, following pre-established tracks underneath the clear veneer of each street. Pedestrians walked neatly and carefully in lines as though also following tracks designated to them. It was an elaborate display of discipline, best explained by more recent generations of Auroun who were less impressed by Rautrah'ai than their forefathers. Mostly, the city served to instill a sense of peace in the citizenship because, without that peace, any number of horrific and terrifying events might occur.

Having not realized what great potential the Auroun people have for violence until many years too late, Rio was as blissfully ignorant of the stifling conditions imposed on her homeland as any of the neighboring citizens taking their evening shuffle home.

So neat, so placid - A sea of ivory and silver waves lapping as bodies jostled and moved. Perhaps one swallows doubts when their life is seemingly perfect. With no doubt, there were no questions, and with no questions, there was no concern.

The pain was sharp, blunt, and the impact nearly knocked Noonajirakoh E'vrio flat on her ass. Another pain was just as quick, but with the distinct addition of fingers wrapping around her upper arms.

"R'o im imhhb(I'm so sorry)!" The voice spoke Auzi loudly(or so she thought at the time) with a harsh note of panic tinging the sound. It wasn't the lilt in the last word that was memorable for Rio, but the fact someone was speaking Auzi in the first place.

And with his hands on her no less, staring her directly in the eye.

"Rg'h mlgsrmt ivzppb. Qfig, bmf qnmd, hpmd wmdn(It's nothing really. Just, you know, slow down)." Taking a slow breath, Rio tore her vision from the stranger and nodded toward the pedestrian lane traveling in the opposite direction. Just as uniform, but moving elsewhere. "Ru bmf ovzn gm svzw umi gsv Zncsmi, bmf szev znmgsvi ypmxq gm tm yvumiv gsv giznhrg lmigzp-(If you mean to head for the Anchor, you have another block to go before the transit portal-)"

"Bmfi Zfar ri evib tmmw!(Your Auzi is very good!)" Releasing Rio's arms, the man clapped several times before beaming brightly at her. "Smd umigfnzgv R zo gm szev ovg bmf.(How fortunate I am to have met you.)" Beckoning for Rio to follow him, he stepped out of the line of walking Auroun and continued with, "R'ev girvw gzpqrnt gm gsv wvhq xpvip zg hsv smgvp R'o gibrnt gm hgzb zg, yfg gsvb mnpb tzpzxgrx.(I've tried talking to the desk clerk at the hotel I'm trying to stay at, but they only know galactic.)" Suddenly appearing rather shy, he looked away before admitting, "Nb tzozxgrx rhm'g evib tllw, yfg kviszkh blf xzm zhhrhg nv? R dzh slkrmt gl urmw zm rmgvikivgvi zg gsv zmxsli, yfg ru blf'iv xzkzyov lu gizmhozgrmt, rg hzevh nv z tivzg wvzo lu grnv. (My galactic isn't very good, but perhaps you can assist me? I was hoping to find an interpreter at the Anchor, but if you're capable of translating, it saves me a great deal of time.)"

Forward as the request may have been, Rio couldn't help giving a slow nod of her head. "Dvoo, r hfkklhv r'n zezrozyov uli z uvd nlnvmgh.(Well, I suppose I'm available for a few moments)." Without a second thought, the rest was said telepathically. <Do you mind if we talk this way? I know the foreigners want us to speak galactic, but is Auzi necessary right now?>

For a long moment, the two stood in silence. This wasn't uncomfortable for Rio, but the stranger seemed like he might crawl out of his skin if they didn't start moving soon. His anxiety only made less sense for Rio when he answered with, <Do you not like Auzi? You are fluent, so why not speak it when you can?>

<I guess I'm embarrassed,> she offered, unsure how else to respond to the question. <No one else I know is fluent. Most of my friends stopped taking Auzi when the course was made optional.>

When the other Auroun's eyes flickered back to Rio as lamplights in the dimming evening, she felt a new kind of embarrassment draw out roseate blush across her cheeks. <With a voice so beautiful, you would be crazy not to speak.>


[wip]

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 02-19-2018

Once a coward, always a coward. Always.

A walk down memory lane placed Teague on the dusty plains of the biodome she grew up in, where her elders spent countless hours toiling over the nearly uninhabitable soil in hopes of reaping minimal rewards. Their terraforming projects was a slow and tedious one, and even this late in the future, Mars was still a relatively empty landscape with few inhabitants. The domes spread like bubble paper, with tiny colonies within each clear shield. The terrain was naturally rough and red, oxidized rust making its way into every aspect of her life; from her radically dyed locks to the flags blowing in artificially created and circulated wind. The afternoon sun beamed through the filtered layers of the colony roof, hitting her tanned features with a warmth she soaked up like a sponge. Laying in the grass while her family continued their efforts, she was given time to reflect on her day. Skipped rocks with the neighbor boy, caught imported ladybugs from the wheat fields, and hid from Taxxon when it was time to shovel bales of hay. It had been a good day, and as the hours dragged closer to dinner, she knew all there was left to do was nap lazily while others continued their efforts to eek out a life for themselves. Too young to know what strain was on her family life, she didn't bother to assist or hang around to see what could done. Instead, this was her routine in months between classes.

"You know, you could at least try and pretend you're being productive." A shadow blocked the sun, causing Teague to crane her small neck to see the source. "Bet there's floors to scrub."

"I already scrubbed them this week." The red head lied, making a face. "Go away, Tesla. I don't want to talk to you."

Rather than listen to Teague, her oldest brother plopped down in the field beside her and shrugged his already broad shoulders. He was only eighteen at the time, but he looked so much older, worn from his time working the land with their father. The burdens of the oldest child were always most visible, and a reminiscent Teague cursed herself for not noticing what Tesla had given up for her benefit. Everything he had done was so obvious in retrospect, but her youth had blinded her to his sacrifices, and there was no way to tell him how appreciative she was now. Instead, she was left looking back on this scene, even as her current landscape was a city under attack.

"You don't have to talk. Just listen to me." Tesla glanced over to his seemingly uninterested sister as he spoke, keeping a steady watch on her even as she pretended not to notice. "I'm headed out to the mines in a couple of weeks, you know. Got an offer to work with Dad, and the money is good. We need it." He brought his hand up to his stubbly features and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Means you have to keep an eye out for me. Make sure Becky doesn't fall for that little shit Arthur. I keep seeing them together, and I know he's trying to make moves. You're a girl, so you could probably find out for me what's going on."

"It's not my job to spy on your girlfriend. Damn, making it seem like I owe you..." Teague rolled over onto her side, away from her brother, and grumbled, "I don't know why I should help you anyway. You got nothing to offer me."

"Oh, but I do!" Quickly, Tesla pulled his blaster from his holster and prodded the back of Teague's head with the barrel. "You still want this old thing? I won't be needing it where I'm headed."

Instinctively Teague froze when the gun was placed to her head, but he pulled it away so she could right herself into a seated position, which gave her the opportunity to take the weapon. Relinquished into her much smaller hands, the nine year old held the blaster gingerly, bobbing it up and down for a time before nodding once in reply. "Okay. If Arthur gets too close to her, I'll shoot him."

"WHAT?! No, fucking no!" Waving his hands, Tesla shook his head in mock horror. "Look, just keep an eye on Becky for me, and use the blaster only if you need it. Don't shoot anyone over anything stupid, alright?"

"I mean..." Teague bit her bottom lip briefly, questioning what to say next. "How do I know who to shoot?"

Tesla was quiet for a time, looking out over the struggling fields of wheat and rye, taking his time to answer. When he did though, Teague knew she would never forget his words.

"You shoot when you know you'll die otherwise. Don't shoot to hurt 'em either. Shoot to kill." He tapped the middle of his forehead, right between his eyes. "if they can't manage a thought, they can't hurt you. Always put the bullet where it'll count." Lightening his tone, he added, "We can shoot some cans after dinner, if you want."

Ecstatic, Teague nodded vigorously and leaned in to hug her giant of a brother. "Promise I won't shoot anyone who doesn't deserve it!"

"Hey, it's dinner time, you two!" In the distance, a plump silhouette of their mother called for them to come inside, and both rose to their feet and shuffled home when summoned.

Within the helmet, Teague's lip quivered.

The tightness in her chest hurt more than her stiff muscles, and the memories flooding her consciousness were coming back in full force. If it wasn't for the drugs, she would hardly be able to walk with the crippling sense of guilt and pain they brought, but because of those very same drugs, her ties with that old farm on Mars were cut. A catch-22 she seemed to ignore in most cases, there was something about the rush of a near death experience that brought the feelings back in waves. Had the lizard in the building a block back shot her, at least she would be with her brothers. Somewhere in the cosmos their spirits were smiling down at her, or so she had been led to believe in her youth, and even after years of medical school and forced practicality, Teague hoped it was true.

Even now, she didn't want to think about Tesla's death. Not Tesla, or Tonka, or Topark, or Daddy. She certainly didn't want to think about whether Tibalt or Taxxon were killed during their tours of duty in the army. Was Momma still baking bread for the neighbors while Tennick was researching soil nutrients for the terraforming project?

"Fuck..." Teague choked softly, but all that came out was a crackle of static, fuzzy and unnatural. The city she lived in was smoldering, torn to pieces by the native gangs as well as a crash from above, and all she could think about was a life she wished she had never lived. The only thing bringing her back to reality was the screams from distant residences, presumably damaged by the lizard's impact. Only, now there was the cracks of artillery being fired off, and crashing from closer buildings. If it wasn't for the cover those buildings gave her, she would likely have been struck by something by now, which brought the truth of her situation into view. Breaking into a run, the Mars native sprinted without hesitation, her shielded hues blinking unshed tears away to clear the blur. Bodies were to either side of her, terrified shrieks echoing through the streets even as she attempted to exit the area. Every time the woman thought she was safe, the exit was blocked by rubble or fire. Her asphalt jungle was now a city ripped asunder, and it only got worse the deeper she ventured through the wreckage.

Desperate now, Teague's hand rested on her hand-me-down blaster, which was white knuckle gripped by gloved fingers. She needed to get home. She needed to get to her experiments, as those were what little she owned she couldn't readily replace. Breezing through channeled roads towards his apartment complex, she nearly tripped as a hand shot out and snagged her ankle, which stopped her long enough to hear the begs. "Help me!" The semi crushed woman pleaded, her lower half buried under a slab of concrete as large as a small car. Dancing from one foot to the other, Teague seemed torn between helping and continuing on her way, and knew she could likely do nothing for the woman. "I can't. I-I can't lift that-" She began, but found herself hunkering down to attempt lifting it anyway.

It was no good though. Shifting her weight to try using her shoulder, it barely budged with the full weight of the small Martian, and Teague ended up falling onto her rear end with a loud groan. "It's too heavy. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!" the crackle of the helmet didn't do justice to the words, neutralizing her emotions into a robotic garble.

"Don't leave me! They'll kill me-" And almost like clockwork, the mouth of the street became the entrance to Zeloan invasion; their forces pushing forward through the littered destruction. "THEY ARE HERE NOW! SAVE ME!"

A Coward. "I can't! I CAN'T!" A fucking coward. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me! God, forgive me." Shakily rising from the ground, Teague darted away as troops closed in, leaving the woman where she had first found her; leaving her to die alone. "I'm so sorry..."

Her apartment was in sight, and Teague wasted no time mourning to slow down, barreling into the entryway of the ramshackle building with no one around to stop her for credits in the door frame. Taking the stairs two at a time, the Martian stopped only when she could see her door at the top step, and rummaged for her key card while closing the distance between the two points. Jostling the handle as her keycard was scanned, she panted in frustration and brought up her heavy boot to ram the door with a kick. Knocking it loose with the violent move, a siren blared elsewhere to alert the security system, but Teague had no time to worry about police showing up. Immediately making for her bedroom, the stray syringes and beakers glared her in the face like a volatile reminder of her line of work, though the personal guilt would need to wait. Quickly kneeling at the side of her bed, she snagged a long, slender case and yanked it out, swinging it onto her back with a worn leather strap.

Next Teague circled the lines of tables, pocketing everything that was bottled and safe to carry by hand, cursing every so often as she was reminded by everything she would be forced to leave. Her final trip was across the mostly empty living room, to her singular coffee table and chair. A picture frame was the only item on the table, with a smiling group of nine, all happily waving at the camera. The moving image was grabbed and kept in her left hand while her right stayed on her blaster, even as her digits ached from staying in the position for as long as they had. Now she could ditch the apartment and get the hell out of the city, as there would be nothing left of this makeshift home of hers when the army crashed in to break up the Zeloan problem. A small price to pay to deal with those bastards.

In a run, she left her apartment and downed the stairs in a rush, dangerously close to tripping over her own feet just before reaching the bottom. Even so, the misstep didn't seem to do much other than briefly pause the woman, who had her sights set on the opposite end of her street than the way she came in. "STOP! Raise your hands in the air turn slowly!" Ignoring the order, Teague couldn't pinpoint where it came from, but flashes across her visual screen indicated it was behind her. Lines of text followed with the consequences of running, and ways to mend shallow bullet wounds, but she did her best to not dwell on the worst case scenario. "Fuckin' shoot the bitch!" With the addition of the second voice, Teague's pace picked up, just as a series of shots were fired at her back. Most missed, with only one striking the Martian, but there was too much to lose if she stopped. The pain was manageable, bearable, though still awful and she cried out as the bullet embedded in her shoulder, and her footing staggered slightly off course momentarily as the dealer was overcome by the initial shock. More messages streamed across the visual display, warnings that she was being followed, but Teague needed to keep going.

For her brothers and for her parents, and for her community... Teague needed to live because one day, she would apologize for being a coward. One day.

Teague didn't even notice Micah and his unit as she rounded a corner lethargically, though she was losing blood as she did so, and it had completely altered her perception. Head swimming, skin hot beneath the layers of her typical garb, it was a surprise she made it as far as she did. Maybe she could warn Micah and his soldiers, let them know about the Zeloans, and ask them to help that poor woman she had left behind. Maybe she could ask them for help. Maybe...

Within a few yards of where the foreign soldiers stood, Teague Foxwell crashed into an abandoned car and bounced off limply, landing on the hard asphalt. In her hands remained gripped a beat up DE-10 Blaster Pistol, and a damaged visual frame with the distorted image of happy faces.


[old post storage]

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-01-2018

Ah, yes.

Desire.

A dust storm whipped over the desert, leaving Kade nothing to do but stay huddled against the inward lean of a toppled structure. Old world design by the looks of it, though the wee hours of the night had made it difficult to distinguish the details, and the blonde wasn't willing to light a match. Waste of a match, and beyond that, she could very well draw attention to herself if anyone drifted down the same dead roads she followed. Honestly, she highly doubted that would happen. Rare did anyone bother trekking more than thirty miles outside of their local refuge, and even then, the nomadic types had little interest in a lonesome explorer with little in the way of valuables.

Through a plume of earthy smoke, Kade furrowed her brows and directed her sights through the lingering signs of the storm. Every so often, she got caught up on thinking about him - he whose name she never used because there was only one him - and it left her with a nostalgic feeling in the pit of her stomach. A lust of sorts, powered by years of disappointment and pining, that found comfort in her inward hollow. Sometimes, she was lucky enough to drink the feeling away. Other times, it perpetuated until she was too exhausted to be completely infatuated with a ghost. Was he a ghost?

Was there a body under all this sand, waiting to be found and picked over by scavengers?

Expelling a warm breath that traced visibly along her portrait, practiced fingers rolled along the base of the cherry to wiggle it free from the unburned cigarette. Absently, her free hand buried the source of heat beneath a pile of sand while the other hand worked to return what was left of her tobacco into a small tin kept in her breast pocket. Freed of the burden of habit, Kade was left with that familiar emptiness that wanted nothing more than to be sated. Satisfaction through indefinite yearning was impossible, but she could ease her mind and unwind.

Tilting back her head, her long locks spilled messily across her makeshift bed of old blankets and traveling packs while she slipped her denims down her hips. Was he a blonde as well? Lashes fluttered against her cheeks as a sigh was expelled, her memories fuzzy and distant despite how strongly the attachment had set barbs into her libido. Sure, she figured when a finger traced the outline of her exposed sex, he was blonde. Broad shoulders, a shadow of facial hair. The digit moved lower still, nestling against that sweet bundle of nerves so a steady circle could begin. Was his voice deep? On occasion, she wondered if she would recognize him if he magically appeared when her needs begged for him, but it hadn't happened yet and she wasn't about to hold her breath over freak occurrences.

But maybe she still kept the flame of hope alive, albeit a tiny one.

Hips rocking gently in time with the rhythm of her finger's teasing, Kade's other hand found purpose when it slipped beneath her shirt and tweaked at one of her already taut nipples. The acts together earned a gentle moan from the woman, her body tensing and arching through the progression of her masturbation. Her clit practically throbbed by the time her entire figure locked up, and with a throaty groan, Kade shuddered through a fast climax all thanks to all those vague memories. "Fuck," she whispered quietly when she eased back her hand from her cum slick cunt, the small tears at the corners of her eyes ignored long enough for the woman to appreciate the mess she made.

Had it been that long?

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-04-2018

"I thought you said you were a professional."

The pair sat on a rooftop with two lukewarm beers as their company, but Ziggy had decided that staring out toward the city was an easier task than meeting her companion's gaze. He was striking, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, with sharp green eyes set in the honey of his complexion. She hated that. It made eye contact near impossible thanks to her insecurities, and due to the topic of the conversation, those were on full blast. "I'm very much a professional, and if us being here doesn't count, what more do you want to see me do?"

"Something I can't do would be a good start."

The two vanished from the rooftop just as silently as they had arrived, now finding themselves planted on a well-worn suede couch in someone's presently vacant loft. Ziggy rubbed her fingers along the foreign fabric for a moment before asking, "What about the part where I can raise the dead?"

"I guess that's something," Thomas said with an exhale of his breath, "But I can manipulate fire and that's honestly cooler."

"Yeah, it really is," the performer mumbled, her coral shaded bangs falling limply over half-lidded blues. "Only creeps wanna see dancing corpses, and the business of raising the dead is really... pointless otherwise. You'd imagine more loved ones wanting to say their goodbyes properly, but in the case of paying for a service, they'll keep their comments to themselves. Cheap fucks..."

Thomas nodded sagely before taking the joint from behind his ear to light it. With it pressed snug between his lips, he needed only to spark his thumb and index finger together for a healthy blue flame to emerge from seemingly nowhere. "Meanwhile, I'm great for camping trips and arson."

Casting a sidelong glance, Ziggy inquired, "And have you committed any arson lately?"

"Yeah, probably." Reclining, his head drooped lethargically against the back of the sofa. "I don't know how many fights I've gotten into that led to the building I was in burned down. I didn't really intend to do it if that counts for anything. Not sure if the motives make it arson or the act itself does."

Ziggy's brows crinkled as she thought it over. "Hm... No. I don't think it's arson unless you're like... uh, what is that thing? The one that means you obsess over fire and shit?"

"Pyromaniac?"

Touching the tip of her nose with her finger, she grinned. "Bingo! Yeah, you're not a pyromaniac and you're not getting your rocks off to setting shit ablaze, so I'm sure it's not arson."

"Ah, I guess I can agree to that..." He seemed stumped, vision narrowing slowly as he met Ziggy's look with one of his own. "Are you a necrophiliac?"

Snatching his joint away so she could chief a few hits, Ziggy choked through the exhales while vehemently shaking her head. "N-not even o-once a-and I've been o-offered Vampire c-cock-"

"Turned down a vamp? I don't think I'd turn down a vamp. They're not really dead."

"Compared to what?" Shifting, Ziggy straightened her posture and handed back the joint. Hands uneasily smoothing over the front of her blazer, she rattled off, "Compared to us, they're pretty fucking dead. The fact that they literally die at sunrise is a good indicator that they're just necro puppets like the ones I use in my show. The difference is just in who pulls their strings."

"And who do you think is pulling strings on an entire race?"

"God, obviously." Snapping her fingers jauntily at her side, a cigarette appeared between her knuckles, already lit and half smoked. "Maybe not the god we've heard about, but some god. A vamp god or a nocturnal god or a fucking fallen god. I don't know much about gods, but there's likely one for everything, including Vampires."

"You should find a vamp willing to talk and see what they think." Thomas sunk further into the couch with a short groan. "Can't be too much harm. If shit goes south, just vanish."


"Iz not zat I doh-naut want ze company, but talk ovahr gods? No gods for us." Alexy shook his head from behind the bar while simultaneously waving someone closer to where he and Ziggy were talking. "Эмиль, этот художник хочет знать о богах вампиров. Как мне сказать, что она сумасшедшая?"

Emil was a regular and, on some occasions, a massive piece of shit. Still, he seemed to know the most about Vampires as far as the current patrons went and he was always available. "No Vampire gods, like Alezy say - no Lilith or Cain or that fuckin' Pharoah from that one movie. No fuckin' gods." Sloshing his drink when slamming it down, he settled himself on a stool right next to Ziggy and towered over her as he continued with, "We're our own kind. Probably some believe in god? Whatever. Not my business. God is a concept and some Vampires take it with them when they are turned, yes? Just like proper manners. You open a door for stranger, you help little old woman across street, you pay your taxes-" He shrugged it all off. "Some do human things and gods are human made. Human owned."

"Did you believe in God before you were turned?" She asked, trying to remain casual. "Like, uh... was it part of your upbringing?"

"Yes, certainly. It was long time ago. Still, they teach us many wrong things when we were human. It kept us docile, yes? It kept us reliable and afraid. God makes people afraid."

"You're not wrong there," Ziggy agreed between swigs of her beer. "I just can't imagine there not being something or someone in control of the big picture. If angels and demons and vampires and werewolves are all real, why isn't God?"

Emil only chuckled through the mane of his beard. "If they have control, why do we not see it? I could kill you now - no God will come. No one but the ones you know here might care, and even they couldn't stop me in the moment. What would God control when we have free will? Lucifer's curse, isn't it? Anyway, no. No gods. There's nothing here for a god to want."

"I don't know. Isn't there?"

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 01-03-2019

[I finally finished this. x.x Only took a year to get back to it, but whatever. I'll edit eventually.]

"Go Back To Bed."

She said it in her husky drawl, the alcohol heavily wafting where it drifted around Phae, her evening helping of endorphins fading fast as the last of the energy drained from her tired frame. New bruises blossomed across the outline of her jaw, crawling up tan flesh until they resigned with a splash of swollen skin; a wine red soon to mellow into burgundy highlights. Within another day or so, the injuries would contrast as a line of vague spots in dusky shades of blue tracing her bone structure, but if her limbs were still in working order, there wasn't much she would worry about. She could still chew the inside of her cheek, which she did as her unsteady steps teetered through the quiet apartment.

Her mother simply watched the spectacle with a secret sorrow buried behind pale hues.

"Phaerakaus..." But when mouthed from her lips, Phae couldn't hear the plea, and trudged along with the same blind ignorance she had worn for the better part of her adulthood. Years of silence and swallowed arguments, and of course, the guilt - that's all Khalun had to fall back on when it came to her only child. The strong, independent daughter she had raised alone. The vibrant young woman who harbored no ill will toward her upbringing. At least none that Khalun was privy to. Of course, there had been spats and bickering. A lifetime gave endless opportunities for such things, didn't it? They had fought amongst themselves because there had never been a third to stand between them. It was peculiar.

Phae had mentioned the peculiarity of her mother's bachelorette status several times but to no ends beside a knowing smile and Khalun's correction.

"Bachelorette would imply I'm younger than I am, dear."

Perhaps this much was true, but Phae insisted it made no sense that Khalun didn't attempt to date. It wasn't as though there was any hint of her father in the picture to protest. Phae always made sure to include this adage with the hope it might persuade her mother. It didn't. When it came in usual and inevitable mention, Khalun steered the conversation away from her marital status and on to other more approachable topics. Anything easy to digest. Anything not involving her uninvolved lifestyle. Once, when Phae had become broody after this part of the back and forth, Khalun offered, "I've had my fill of men. Enough to last me a lifetime, and longer still."

Maybe that was enough of an answer for Phae. She asked less in recent times, and only in passing; between outings and over dishes cleared after meals. No more persistence fueling a line of questioning. Just gentle words backed by the whispers of lifelong curiosity. She asked because she felt obligated to, and Khalun respected this but would never have an acceptable answer for her only daughter.

They were distant in recent years. Phae was a grown-up, living the life of a grown-up, and Khalun struggled not to baby her in the brief windows they were in close proximity.

---

"You think it's enough?"

Between the twins, a digital display offered a meager number across the face of the screen, earning a troubled sigh from the Elder brother. "For exactly one night of fun."

"Isn't that all we need?" The younger male asked, his smile slightly lopsided while his lids narrowed to register their account information to his memory. "Transport tomorrow, fun tonight?"

"Guess it depends on what we're doing for fun." Euripedes cast a sidelong glance at Zuriphes to gauge just how closely his sibling was paying attention. "We've gotta focus on something both of us can do. You know, like maybe-"

Jutting out a hand frantically, Zuri motioned to the sauntering hips passing them by, the neon halo following the unfamiliar femme indicating she was working. "Her!" He ushered excitedly before looking to Euri for approval. "Let's do her- Both of us. We'll make a sport of it, yeah?"

If Euripedes was shocked, the sentiment never reached his countenance. "Alright."

---

Khalun'era Tamorae worked long hours on her feet and longer hours on her back.

Aboard the Euphrates space station, it wasn't uncommon to see escorts strutting the length of the tourist sector, their bare legs ending in designer wedges and heels that glittered with Jedda diamonds and Roth Khaanian gold decal buckles. Purses made from Anjoutuh web in intricate designs, their skin toned nylons shimmering in low light; bodies swaying and bending and stretching. There was enough flesh to appreciate, though more if the price was paid. Each of these lovely creatures was licensed for practice, a projection of flashing credentials circling the circumference of their person with scrolling text regarding limitations and acceptable rates.

In this business, the competition was fierce due to the nature of the profession, but Khalun was a creature known far and wide as a rarity. A treasure. Across her holo broadcast in big bold letters read "AUROUN", and more often than not, that was all a customer needed to feel impulsive enough to pay her incredibly steep fee.

Pale lashes lazily blinked as she passed by the Rasmodian brothers, her sights elsewhere and her mind completely devoid of any interest concerning the pair.

---

Where she was going, they were following. Euri in the lead with a slow gait that denoted his casualness toward their plan, Zuri eagerly dogging behind while asking far too many questions of his equally uncertain brother.

"Do you think she'll do a double?" The younger pressed forth, his third reiteration of the same question in just as many minutes, though now with the hint of a whine catching the end of 'double'. He cleared his throat with a forced cough to shake his anxiety, noting his wavering vocals just as Euri might. "Is she even working? Maybe she's headed home?"

"We'll follow until we catch up," Euri explained coolly, dragging a set of squared fingers through chestnut locks. An uncommon shade for the pair, but with a healthy population of Terrans darting around, they fit right into the late night crowd. "If she ends up inaccessible, we cut our losses and find a club nearby. No harm, no foul." Flashing a patronizing smile, he added as the two of them ducked to avoid a low ceiling while descending a transit stairwell, "I'll do all the talking if you're feeling shy."

But it wasn't shyness Zuriphes felt from his eight or so yards away from the mysterious woman. No, it was much closer to longing - a desperate and daunting dilemma fascinating him as their stalking trail moved ever closer to hustling hips and a deliciously transparent skirt that left very little to the viewer's imagination. Gods, I could just... He didn't need to explain this enticement to his twin because, even while remaining characteristically self-assured, Euri led the charge.

Minutes felt like hours, the passing collage of cybernetic influence meeting slate metal accents and soft glowing electrical guts. It wasn't until they were genuinely lost that the men finally reached her, and with as much candor as Euri could muster while remaining inoffensive, he ushered forth, "We have credits if you have time, Khalun'era."

---

Tourists were the Auroun's favorite customers because they only bothered her when they had their credits on hand to spend. They didn't plead for bargains or discounts because of some assumed returning customer policy, nor did they spend every waking moment trying to learn more than just which positions she was good at. A customer who treated the transaction as a transaction earned bonus points from the woman, regardless their initial approach. The two in her peripherals rose above her slight stature, coming to stand over her left side while making a valiant effort to match the brisk pace she so often used to leave Faustus Square. Khalun made her own hours, of course, so it wasn't a matter of whether or not she was on the clock. Rather, it was a matter of how she felt about her potential suitors for the evening.

Coyly, her starry eyes appraised each in turn, shameless in how their roaming traced from the tips of their oxfords to the notch lapels of their blazers. Coifed textured quiff haircuts on both, the matching features of the men different only in their expressions. One stood confidently, waiting for her answer, while the other male teetered in the wings of his brother's presence. He only looked at her long enough to make the barest eye contact before shying those chocolate brown irises toward anything reasonably nearby. Khalun found the brothers adorable, though men hated being called anything other than their preferred terms of endearment, so she buttoned her lip on what snark threatened to breathe through and moved forward with the potential conversation.

Chin tipping in a gesture to indicate the direction she was headed, Khalun asked, "I'm headed this way- Where's your hotel room?"

The speaker of the pair chuckled warmly as he admitted, "Any way you're headed. We'll take a room for the night if you'll be with us."

Askance, Khalun's portrait tilted. "Just like that?" Of course, it would be a tourist who would offer a room in the part of the station the Auroun cared to work in. Silly boys overthinking their odds. "It's 92,000 each for..." She licked her lips thoughtfully when offering an estimate, "The next 12 hours, give or take."

---

The room was another expense Euripedes paid without consulting his brother. His mind had been made up from the moment they closed the gap between themselves and Khalun, his thoughts a mire of sensual positions and shared sounds. Unlike his twin, Euri's ability to wear a poker face was natural. He remained pleasant and comfortable in the company of their female prize long after the time for niceties was over. In this demeanor, he would always differ from Zuriphes' almost childlike mannerisms and social awkwardness.

Hidden behind locked doors, the trio shared a bottle of wine and discussed small details about themselves. Khalun's accent teased the end of her words, turning her S's to Z's and her R's to J's. Euripedes could get lost in her sentences, from the structure to the lyrical quality of her voice, but his brother had already shifted gears by asking abruptly, "Have you ever done this before?"

"A few times, yes."

Zuri had managed to place the petite Auroun on the end of his thigh, and while she spoke, he bounced her gently as one might bounce their progeny, careful not to let her teeter too far to one side. She explained, "Never with Rasmodians, though. I expect you're as rare on this side of the galaxy as I am."

"Not that anyone can tell," Euri pointed out softly, reminding his company that the appearance of the twins was a muted rendition of traditional Rasmodian colors. No neons or fluorescent shades between the pair; they could have easily passed for human. "Nor do I expect them to appreciate our company now that we're short on credits. You're our final great expense, Ms. Khalun." Reaching out, he took her free hand into his and dotted a series of light pecks across her knuckles, a smile creeping over his lips as he did so.

"It was my idea," Zuri chimed, his bouncing knee coming to a pause as he pushed needy kisses along the nape of the woman's neck. Convinced of their chemistry, he wasn't shy about his attraction, daring his twin to join in by sheer eagerness. Euri wasn't stupid, though. He knew that no matter how enthusiastic Zuri might be, he was too shy to commit fully to the deed without a gentle nudge in the right direction.

"I think it was an excellent idea," Khalun purred, her figure arching in comfort against the chest of the Rasmodian currently cradling her hips, his hands squeezing shyly at her waist as his twin rose to stand, relinquishing the hold on her hand.

"Zuriphes, carry her to the bed."

And as it was spoken, Zuri's limber limbs gathered the Auroun into a bridal carry so he could do what he was asked to do. Carefully lowering the creature onto the mattress, his sights tore from Khalun long enough to give Euripedes an inquisitive look. "...And?"

"And what? We're going to fuck her."

Unabashed, Khalun giggled and kicked her legs into the air as she commented, "But I need to be undressed first!"

If that wasn't the greatest news Zuriphes had heard in recent times, he wasn't sure what else even came close. Now wasn't the time to jog his memory of any such things, of course, and with the promise of a nude Auroun woman within his reach, he hardly bothered lingering on such thoughts. His one-track-mindedness often proved a hindrance to plans, but in his slightly inebriated state of lust, it proved fruitful. Unbuckling her heels, Zuri's amber hues lowered their lids to half mast, giving him a lusty appearance that paralleled his often playful nature.

"Do you want to keep your clothes on?" Directing a hand beneath the hem of her clear skirt, his fingers teased at the outline of her sex through her throng. "I only need these off."

"Take it all off," Euripedes ordered from the other side of the bed, his stature seeming to tower over where Khalun had been placed. "The more I see, the better."

And just as he had carried her previously, Zuriphes tentatively unbuttoned and unfastened the various layers of Khalun's attire until she was left in just her bra and thong, both sets of Rasmodian eyes settled on her buxom physique. When no more orders came and the action had come to a pause, Khalun clicked her tongue. "I think I can do the rest."

"I'm sorry-," Euri began to say but stopped to rethink his words. "You're beautiful, and for a moment, I lost myself. Forgive me." He cleared his voice and conducted firmly to Zuri, "All of it, Zur. Steel yourself just long enough to do that and you'll find what you're looking for."

Perhaps Euripedes saw that hunger rising behind his brother's dark hues, but in that moment of paused undressing, Zuriphes' posture lurched slowly forward until he was practically hovering over the woman. Like it was an afterthought, he unsnapped the back of the Auroun's bra and shifted his attention to hitching his squared thumbs between the elastic waistline of Khalun's thong. Easing the fabric along her pale thighs, he found his lips resting just below the crest of her ear, giving him an opportunity to whisper breathily, "I would've chased you, Khalun'era. If you had run, I would have followed as far as this life might allow me just to taste you once." A pause. "Believe that."

"He's quite the romantic, isn't he?" Euri scoffed, unbuckling his slacks as he waited for his command to be followed through. "Poetic, even. It's a shame he's stuck with me."

As his pants fell to the floor in a discard pile he had no intention of tidying, his movements sent him crawling toward the middle of the bed. Planting himself next to Khalun's prone state, Euri smirked in accompaniment of a dismissive shrug. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt as well as the line of buttons keeping it orderly, he peeled everything away with a relaxed sense of responsibility, expecting the brunt of his mostly unspoken plan to fall into place without constant guidance. It mostly happened that way, with Zuri undressing hastily on the other side of the bed so the pair of them would be left just as nude as their hostess.

Euri pondered briefly if that was a more polite title for a working girl. A hostess. His thoughts were interrupted as Khalun expelled a long sigh before rising onto her knees. "Let's make the most of this night while it's still ours, hm?" She traced the apple of Zuri's cheek before turning her sights to the older of the twins. "If he's so eager to taste me, perhaps you will allow me to taste you?"

Heart fluttering in his chest, Euripedes chose to remain silent, issuing only a nod in favor of Khalun's idea. Easing himself back, his head was met with pillows and the scent of clean, or whatever chemicals a place like the Euphrates Station considered to smell clean. It did nothing to energize his hazy mind but reminded him that he was christening this bed with a woman so fascinating and unique, he would never forget her, even if the memory was sparked by future run-ins with cleaning products. He hoped never to forget any of it. Not her laugh or her smile or her careful way of touching his already swelling cock as it rose erect from its position against his thigh.

Between his legs, she looked absolutely devious, a mischevious grin curving her plump lips so as she wrapped her mouth around the head of his shaft, he thought she might stop and demand him to beg.

At this point, he would. Beg and plead, if need be, so long as she continued thirsty sucks down the ridged spine of his manhood.

Zuriphes' eyes widened as he was presented Khalun's pink slit between her semi-parted knees. Even the pink colored fawn markings were beckoning him, such exotic impressions he had heard of in passing, but never experienced. As she braced to deep-throat his twin, Zuri thanked his lucky stars that their Auroun lover was intuitive enough to glean that he would much rather give than receive. Not that he hadn't imagined filling one of her many tight holes with his seed, but his first goal was to taste her sweet juices before they were thoroughly debased by both his and Euri's cum.

He was getting ahead of himself. For now, it was all in positioning himself just beneath the swell of her ample rear cheeks. Initially, he tried to do so upright, but she was too thick in her behind and he was inexperienced at the angle.

His second idea was much better received, aiding both his and Khalun's amorous intentions, placing him on his back while she comfortably seated her slick cunt within his mouth's reach.

Oh, and it was everything he had hoped for.

His tongue flickered, serpentine, to press desperately into her taut entrance so he could lick the nectar free from the cavity. Everyone knew that Auroun were in possession of one of the galaxy's most potent aphrodisiacs via their excretions mid-coitus. In the space of time between getting excited and getting off, Khalun released a philter that made Zuri's tongue shiver while his mind screamed for more. All of it, he hoped, as he delved deeper into that constricting hole, thrilled by how her muscles squeezed him even then.

Expelling a shaky breath, he redirected his efforts to the crux of nerves between her semi-parted folds. Her clit, swollen with need, fit perfectly in the lapping cup of his tongue. Her hips rocked her closer to his mouth and he buried his features between her thighs, elated as his tongue curled and flickered against her stimulated nub. The more she moved, the more excited the Rasmodian was to be earning such responses from a seasoned sex worker.

He had her shuddering in just a few moments, her thighs quaking while her moans came out muffled around Euripedes' shaft.

There was something entirely too attractive about hearing a woman's impassioned cries stifled by a stiff cock, and Zuri immediately regretted not recording the event. She probably wouldn't have liked that, he assured himself as she dripped her excitement across his lips, driving his pace to speed up. In all fairness to all the involved parties, they probably didn't look half as good as they felt, so a copy of the event wouldn't do. His memories might. Wistful, he resigned himself only to focus on the present, adamant to see this adventure through.

Praise Zur, thought Euripedes as he groaned contently beneath the attention of the woman. He knows just how to make a woman play the game.

She was voluptuous, swaying, her pale outline alight with an ethereal light that only furthered his infatuation. It may not have been love, but it was pure. Honest. His heart was just as invested in this coupling as his body was, admiring every fiber of Khalun's being from the tip-top of her bowed head to what little he could see of her tiny toes at the opposite end of the bed. The more work his brother put in, the more pleasure Euripedes drew from the edged Auroun. As she rode the cusp of her zenith, so too did the older twin's cock throb with pent need. His stomach muscles knotted, his lower abdomen driving the feeling of pleasure lower, funneling his peak through means he expected Khalun to appreciate.

As a man, Euripedes always assumed women wanted his cum. If they didn't, why hadn't any of them spoken up about it?

His hands rose from the sheets and laced their digits through the woman's silver hair, ensuring he had a good hold to push her down his shaft one last time. It was in this feverish second that he climaxed, shooting a hot spray of spunk right into the back of Khalun's throat, his voice a stiff grunt in the wake of his vulnerability. It felt so good, he almost ignored Khalun's orgasm, aware of how she shook but not heeding as much as he might have cared to under regular circumstances.

He needed to catch his breath.

Unlike his brother, Zuriphes didn't miss a second of Khalun's release, going so far as to scissor his fingers between her inner walls so he could push his tongue deeper for the finish. She did well to stay propped on her hands and knees through it, but he knew fatigue wouldn't allow that to continue for very long, and he slid back from beneath her to scoop the Auroun into his arms. Euri waved him off with a weak flap of his hand, clearly in need of his own recuperation before he continued playing with their shared toy. All three were panting, a bit winded, and Khalun somehow seemed smaller while she was being cradled by the larger figure. Downcast, his eyes explored her body just as his tongue did her cunt, yet now he was trying to distract himself from the distinctive yearning he felt for her.

"How do you feel?" He inquired of the woman, his smile lopsided and secretive.

"Like you were my first," she whispered, returning his smile with one of her own. A small one, meant to be special given the context. His heart melted with each word. "And I only hope I can please you even half as well as you pleased me."

Mind racing, he considered professing his love.

No, he reminded himself, you can't simply love someone after one night. That's just the Auroun's effect on you. Slightly deflated by the revelation, he did the only thing he was sure would make him feel better. He kissed her. Not just a chaste, casual kiss. No, it was deeper than that. More profound. A kiss he would live and die for, would simulate with other women in years to come and never come close to replicating, and would always miss. A kiss he existed to give, but only to her, like this. Always for her, Khalun'era Tamorae, the most heavenly creature he would ever lay eyes on.

And she kissed him back.

Their heartfelt moment came to a conclusion only when Euripedes cleared his throat. "I'm good," he confirmed with the pair, his hand stroking his cock with tight pumps. "Let's see how tight an Auroun is."

---​

Considering the Auroun a prize, it was no wonder the pair would end up mounting her at the same time. They barely acknowledged this, though, as Zuriphes was granted the privilege of being in the forefront of the curvaceous creature while his twin took the rear.

Euripedes didn't mind. His concern was in her tightness and elasticity, after all, and her ass proved a snug fit for the length of his cock. Without having full control of her hips, he was left rocking upward into the meat of her rump, but that drove him so deep, he was more than willing to put in the extra work. All his breathing came in sharp hisses, his words nothing more than the afterthoughts of his constant thrusting.

"I didn't know they made women like you," Euri admitted as one of his hands slipped between his brother's chest and the woman's figure, cupping her full breast and squeezing. "It's like you have everything. It's like you're all my favorite parts of a woman in one amazing package." He wasn't in his right mind to be romantic, not while she strangled his manhood with those ringed muscles puckering around his base. "I would call you mine. I would give you everything. I would-" he sighed, a throaty growl escaping as the thin skin keeping him from making direct contact with his twin shifted, both holes rather full as the pair fought over who was free to push in and who was expected to pull out in their battle of thrusts.

Euri's curiosity finally got the best of him and he asked almost inaudibly, "Do you enjoy being so thoroughly used?"

"...Yes."

Khalun's stretched cunt had been the focus of Zuriphes' bucking hips, of course, but he moved for her benefit. Every push against the friction of his brother's work was meant only to drag out another climax from their shared companion. He would get his release at that moment, the cusp of her fervor stemming from his devotion, and he would relish in it. There was no room for doubt, just as there was no room for another in their threeway. Rasmodians were damned to spend their entire lives close to their twin, but it wasn't so bad if it meant sharing in this exquisite creature. Taking his time, Zuri nipped and kissed her lips, appreciating her simpering just as he did her panting breaths.

Slowly, his thumb circled her clitoris, urging her forward just as patiently as Zuri's hips did. He couldn't quite hear the conversation, despite the closeness, but he didn't particularly care to.

"You're glowing," he observed, the darkness shying away from the three due to the illumination of the Auroun. "A star in our midst..."

He didn't need her to reply, he realized as he moved in to drink in her lips, longing for another kiss like what they had shared before. He merely needed her to exist, to breath, to be as she was. Even if he never had another chance to see her again, he wanted to give her nothing but fond memories because that was exactly how he would remember her.

She was adored.

Actually, it was something closer to idolized, and with this realization, a spark of design danced through the Rasmodian's consciousness so he could finally understand.

She was their goddess.

Having lost track of himself for a brief second, his brother's assaulting pace rocketed past his own gentle thrusts, sending a wave of stimulation through the younger of the pair. His body locked up, seizing, and he had no way to stop himself from moving to the precipice of his desire. His disappointment would have been immeasurable if Khalun hadn't clung her arms tighter around his shoulders so she could desperately susurrate, "I-I'm going to cum," as though she was obligated to inform him. His purpose finally permitted. He gladly pounded through the constriction of her muscles and the mysterious shape of the other cock penetrating her petite figure until Khalun's cries shattered the otherwise quiet murmur of pants and sighs.

When she climaxed, she heaved her ample breasts and arched backward into Euripedes, met by his toned physique as he grunted unceremoniously and shot his load into her thick ass. Zuriphes was last to cum, but when he painted her insides in his seed, he did so with only her thirsty muscles milking his pulsing stem. Her body would drink their needs as it quenched its own, and the brothers could only hope to earn a spot in the Auroun's bed again.


---​

Khalun laid between the brothers, allowing Zuri's cheek to rest against the slope of her breast while Euri's long, possessive arms hugged her against his side. Exhausted but satisfied, she closed her eyes to the sounds of them sleeping and let herself drift, finding it strangely comforting to be with these two despite only knowing them for the night. A connection had formed, a bond of sorts.

If only she understood the magnitude of their meeting.

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 03-24-2019

She kissed him to forget. To forget. To forget. To forget. To forget. To forget. To forget. To for g e t

But it was a taste that brought her back to a time before the stars stopped resembling wishes and constellations and started looking a bit too much like someone she knew. A face found in the cosmos, hovering precariously close to where she slept, peering through windows and blinds and through cracked doors to watch her while she was dreaming. Observant because they reasoned they might be able to glean the contents of those secretive thoughts stashed tightly in her skull.

The smell of ozone and kerosene. The memories of wild fields after winter rains. The sight of deserts dotted in pinks and blues and yellows that stretched so far, she thought she lived on a moving canvas of color.

But she kissed him to forget. Forget the sun over the midway. Forget the afternoon treks and the arguments. Forget the cart doesn't come before the horse. Forget love doesn't always win.

He didn't taste like death, but he tasted like a life lost in translation, and that was close enough.

"What're you thinking?" She asked after a while, sometime after the feeling had subsided and she was left with a tongue coated in the questions only silence could produce.

"Of stars," he commented, offhandedly and with a cigarette dangling from his lips, "and how obnoxious I find 'em. Pretentious little shits, right?"

Maybe she nodded, but it brought her sights upward. Through the darkness, beyond the camp and the fire, above the smoke and the spit of embers trailing freely, to the stars. "My ma once said the stars belong to all of us. To everyone. They aren't pretentious... they're just the parts of us we lose along the way."

His head cocked, the mane of dark locks flopping to and fro as he repositioned himself. Leaning upright, lounging, legs splayed however they may fall while his elbows buckled down to keep him otherwise elevated. He had to force his portrait skyward if he wanted the whole picture, but his efforts stopped just shy of that. He could still cut her a side eye when needed as he explained in the same way other men had spoken to her in the past, slow and careful as if she couldn't understand the full scope of their thoughts without them easing off the pedal.

"They used to say that people were made of stardust. Not the other way around- the way you're explainin'. It was more like stars came before us and after a while, they made us as we are and the world as it is, and the whole universe as it is, and now they're just admirin' their work." He hummed, pleased as he pulled back his cigarette to ash it. "You believe in god, don't ya? Well, if you can believe in that, you can believe in stars. My issue with 'em isn't that they're there, because there's no way to get them down from there, after all. My issue is with our issues. With all these problems, with the gangs and the raiders and the bikers and the whole business with them- but we aren't gettin' help from any stars, are we? Not a damn thing."

"Reckon that'd make us sort of lucky, don'cha think?" Kade sighed, her lids coming to close as she inhaled smoke and evening sand drifts, more familiar with their desert resting place than she was with her companion. She didn't care. She only needed him for the night. "Because I bet there'd be more to lose than your life or mine if the stars did come to us. I think - and this is just my humble opinion on this - we'd lose everything you just mentioned. Us, the world, the universe- it's gone when we're gone."

Sagely, she added under her breath, "Can't take it with you."

And when she slept, it was fortunate nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

That night, she couldn't even make out a face in her dreams. Maybe the stars finally collected what they were owed.

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 08-27-2019

Bajazet pounded the ground hard and fast with the butt of her walking stick.

The caravan had been traveling for twelve nights, and of all the things she had seen, sand was involved. Sandy meals as high winds blew across the desert, eaten by sandy, restless people. The collective was pulled along by their sandy, irritated cattle who brayed their disappointment through every long mile. There was sand everywhere, in and on everything, and none of what she had done as precaution seemed to help. Blinking more of the obnoxious substance from her dark hues, the sun was coming to set. The walkers were those who patrolled the caravan on foot, scouting a few hundred meters ahead in case there may have been sightings of unknown travelers. Only took one asshole with a gun to freak out the common folks in their midst. The merchants and scroungers who sold their wares from the wagons they rode in were kind people, quiet sorts, and Bajazet knew they deserved to be left in peace.

Most people disagreed.

Again, the stick jerked against the ground in a repeated motion, spelling out a short message to those in her scanning party. Barefooted toes and heels would catch the shifts of the sands and return the message with one of their own. This system had existed since before the wars and would outlive any family in their group of Isihambi.


/Something in the distance-/ Bajazet pounded with her stick.

//Many-?//

/No- Few- One-/

///Tell caravan///

/Stay- watch-/

Making a barefoot about-face, Bajazet trekked back to where the sounds were greater, wagons all pulling towards the direction she had just come from. Waving the hand with the stick in the air, she motioned for them to stop. Of course, the person to drop down from their driving bench was the leader, though his weathered face seemed sourer than anticipated. "What is the meaning of this?" His tone seemed accusatory, but the woman ignored it. He was always blunt, rough around the edges, and increasingly hateful towards her kind. Woman-kind.

"There is someone in the distance." Her voice was deep and rich like the clay of the earth. "I was told to tell you."

"So we're stopping for one person? Just one?"

"Yes."

The old man guffawed and removed his hat, his other hand mopping the sweat from his stringy hairline. "You are some paranoid sorts- Just get back to watching the front! I haven' got time to waste on you lot being spooked by anything that moves. Probably a Dreg or somethin’." Bajazet didn't reply to being brushed off, but if asked honestly, she would have said this reaction was the norm. In time, when a bandit cut his throat and stole his tobacco and hemp supplies, he would wish he had listened.

This time, however, Bajazet ran with her layers of cotton wrap and linen flowing behind her. Actively trying to get closer to the stranger, the woman was extra cautious as she increasing distance between herself and her comrades in the caravan. All it took was a bullet to end her life - but using a bullet on a mostly unarmed woman seemed wasteful.

Now close enough to shout to the wanderer, the distant silhouettes of the other walkers were barely seen in the dim of dusk. As the setting sun vanished behind the dunes of the horizon, the landscape became more than just heat and sand. This was when bandits and Dregs were most active, likely waiting to catch a person with their guard down. Bajazet didn't want to become an example of this, but it was best to know what this person was doing so far out. If they were truly alone, it was common courtesy to offer them assistance even if it was just a point in the right direction.

"Are you alright?" She asked loudly, the wind hopefully carrying the questions. "Injured?"

For a long moment, Bajazet was worried she may have to sound the alarm. The other walkers wouldn’t appreciate being left out of the conversation, even if it was one-sided.

Then the figure spoke, long syllables drawling cheerily on the wind.

“Zet, it’s me. Fancy that luck!”

A tinge of annoyance captured Bajazet’s dark features as she hissed back, “You scared me! What do you think you are doing out this way?”

“Same as you lot but with less protection.” Stepping closer through the veil of nightfall, Kade Samson shrugged her shoulders, both as a sign of indifference and as a means to keep her pack from sliding off. It looked heavy. “Think they’ll let me tag along?”

Sighing so heavily, she might as well have sneezed, the taller of the two women cocked a thumb back toward the caravan. “Yes, Kade. This time.”

“This time?”

“Yes, this time! How long were you following us?” Gaze narrowing, she could feel the vibrations in the sand but ignored them for the time being. “Since Camden?”

“Eh… More like Luca Vista,” Kade remarked with a sheepish grin, caught. “Surprised I didn’t get caught sooner.”

“Surprised?” Bajazet managed to scoff. “That makes two of us.”

—​

She knew the Dust; that much was true.

Knew it better than the Hub or Metropolis in the northeast or Oasis along the southern coastal cliffs. Without a single scar accredited to any of the megacities, Kade considered it tame living. For the docile, hardly better than indentured servants, this was somewhere they could hide their heads in the sand and chant pre-approved hymnals in thanks. They had survived the collapse of the world as it once was. Gold star for them. From the outside looking in, there would always be whispers of envy. Caravaneers saving their stock for an invitation undoubtedly lost in the desert, or whores preening their children to take up the mantle of attractive meat on the off-chance a megacity citizen might travel as far as their usual cantina. Kade's mother had been a smart woman - smarter than Kade would ever claim to be - and she decided her brood would do best in an encampment a day's travel outside of Oasis. Traders, scrappers, nomads at heart - they made it work.

Staring down at the writing, her brows knit tightly, threatening to touch one another at their closest points if her scrunching face didn't return to normal. "What's this word?"

Bajazet Taruj, frowning, asked in response, "This is your language, isn't it? Sound it out."

Lord, she felt like a child next to her companion. Both women stood about even at the shoulder, but where Kade was tan and blonde with freckles decorating most of her exposed skin, Bajazet was dark as night and virtually hairless. Kade thought her a work of art, though she could do with less of the lip and more in the way of reading help. "Pr-r-r-eeee-ar-it-or-itti," she mumbled, already feeling self-conscious of her efforts. Glancing at Bajazet's expression, she gathered she was off her mark. "Well, shit-" she practically spat, the hand holding the letter now waving wildly as the exasperated femme continued with, "I asked fer your help, Zet, and you won't fuckin' help me! Just read it for me- please, alright? Please!?"

As a member of the Isihambi tribe who traveled the wastes, Bajazet was fluent in several languages. It wasn't necessarily a prerequisite for being of the tribe, but it helped if one intended to get work. Most of the Isihambi was hired on to caravans as trailblazers and guides, and thanks to a language they had crafted with their walking sticks, they could communicate over distances. A series of thumps would vibrate across the sands and Isihambi, who only traveled barefoot, felt the vibrations. Kade didn't understand it. Honestly, so far outside of the fold of the tribe, how could she? Her friend often spoke few words, gave sage advice, and would drink her under the table. As far as work went, it wasn't a topic of interest at the cantina.

Might've been why Bajazet wasn't terribly interested in reading this letter Kade had received. Still, with enough complaints, she budged. "Give it to me." Hand out, palm up, she waited for Kade to pass it over so she could take a crack at it. Her delivery was far smoother.

"To one Ms. Kade Samson,

Your work in the world outside of the Hub, colloquially known as the Dust, has brought you to our attention. We have a PRIORITY mission that requires your assistance. We ask that you take a one Mr. Anjre Hemmings on a field expedition to find a missing person, a one Mr. Ephraim Hoyt. You are to be a guide to Mr. Hemmings because you are familiar with the land, and if your reputation is at all accurate, you know how to travel safely and quickly. These are important assets for this mission. Your speedy response is also required. Whether you accept or deny our request, please inform the courier who has been charged with getting you this message - they will personally deliver us your reply.

Signed,
United Processing Internal Affairs Spokesman,
H. Chavez"

As she finished, Bajazet glanced wearily toward the entrance of the establishment. "How long has that carrier been here waiting on you to reply?"

"Like two days," Kade replied between sips of her drink. Moonshine as grainy as the bottom of her boots. She had sand stuck in her teeth as she continued with, "But I didn' want to go until I spoke to you, an' you were with those pickled beets sellers for fuckin' forever- which is fine. Luca Vista ain’t that far to trek from, right? Left him there initially but he’s a persistent twat. Anyway, jobs a job. I get it. Still wanna know what you think of this particular job because I really outta let that boy know if he's gotta go back empty-handed." Settling her glass on the table, the wooden legs wobbled precariously under the new weight.

"What I think? I think it's worth more to them than that letter will tell you." Almond eyes remained focused elsewhere, likely on the courier left awkwardly exposed to the mid-afternoon sun. "I think they want you to get this missing person because they're valuable. Why else track down someone? Wealthy people don't part with their wealth unless it's very important."

Dragging her palm along the underside of her throat, Kade considered this. Having never been wealthy, she didn't really know why the rich were so stingy, but she gathered it had to do with staying rich. The less they spent, the more they had. A dragon, hoarding gold and riches, dangerous if anyone came between them and what they owned. "Reckon you're right. Gonna have to say yes."

"Be careful. Whoever this Anjre person is, they're the eyes who will be watching you. Just don't get lax on the job. The last thing you want is to find their missing person and end up with a knife in the back so they have zero loose ends." Returning the letter to Kade, Bajazet shrugged lithe shoulders beneath her patterned kurta, seeming apprehensive. "Whatever towns you pass through, speak to the Isihambi there. Tell them who you are and that you need to get a message to me. Just that much will be enough, alright? I'll know you're alive and you will know that someone will come for you if things go wrong."

"Don't go gettin' sentimental on me," Kade drained the last of her liquor and shook her head, blond locks lashing at her cheeks as the chill ran down her spine. "Ergh- Fuck! Besides, you know evil is an honest callin'. Maybe I'm the one they gotta worry about- maybe I'll pull my gun, an'-"

"Right out of those Westerns your mother used to tell us, yes? Save your bullets for the worthy."

Kade practically beamed as she took a stand to finally reply to the courier. "Also one of ma's favorite sayings! 'Save your bullets for the worthy and make sure God knows you're on his side'!"

[Keep forgetting to put blurbs here. Sorta feeling guilty about it, too.]

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 04-27-2020

Fffffwip.

Hissssssss.

W O O S‌ H-

Fix eyed the door with a look of mild annoyance, his hands pocketed in his slacks while his cigarette hung at the corner of his lips.

“Better late than never.”

Alco shrugged his shoulders, their broad frame making his suit seem ill-fitting. Head in a permanent bow to ensure he cleared the doorway without knocking his forehead in the process, his gaze settled on the other in his company.

“Collar come by?”

Fix shook his head slowly. “Like he’d bother to come in person. He sent another message over the wire.” Freeing one of his hands to tap his temple, the smaller fellow launched his emails across the field of his vision. “Says he was sorry he didn’t come but he’s got business to deal with elsewhere- something about the center- et cetera. Basically told us to fuck off.”

Continuing his entrance, long strides led Alco to the circle of seating where he plopped down on the couch, allowing himself the luxury of stretching his limbs. It didn’t matter how many times he brought it up to the Boss - they weren’t looking to drop serious credits on remodeling the ceiling.

“I hate lawyers,” he stated flatly.

“You and me both. Regardless, he did address our inquiry. Said, as he put it, ‘the girl is taken care of.’ Vague as fuck but I can’t really imagine it being difficult. He could’ve made any number of calls and gotten her squared away.”

“Gimme a cigarette.”

Shifting to search his pockets, Fix shot Alco an accusatory look. “What happened to quitting?”

“In this shitstorm? Catch me in a couple of months when all the goddamn reporters are done making a scene.”

“Fair enough.” Leaning to hand off the carcinogen, Fix asked, “What do you think Boss is gonna say about all this?”

“Nothing,” Alco said softly between the act of lighting his cigarette and drawing the first deep inhale, “and I don’t expect him to. He ain’t in a state to deal with anything. Not with Kentaro-”

“Right, right… Don’t say it.”

“Say what? Kentaro’s dead? Look, man- I’m in the same boat as you. We’re dealing with a fucking full-blown mental breakdown of the only person capable of running this organization. Collar doesn’t wanna show his stupid fucking face, the chalk is threatening a lawsuit over her involvement, and the cent is quiet as a church mouse. If our financials aren’t bleeding out at this point, color me surprised.” Expelling a hazy plume of smoke, Alco sighed. “All the Boss has left is Kishi. How depressing.”

The pair shared a long moment in silence.

“…But we’re taking care of Kishi.” Fix brought his free hand to his hair, slicking back loose black quills in the process. “Might be depressing, but she’s fine. She’ll stay fine. She just needs to stay gone until the whole of this mess blows over.”

“Sure, yeah. If the collar has connections, I doubt we gotta worry.” A rare smile creased Alco’s lips. “No more dirty looks to look forward to.”

Fix snorted, his chin wagging with a shake of his head. “You can’t ogle her anymore, you mean.”

“We all did it. Don’t start getting holier-than-thou with me. Like, check it out- he made her for Kentaro, right? Perfect little trophy wife, drop-dead gorgeous… What role does she play with Kentaro gone?” Scratching his brow with his pinky nail, Alco leaned back and stared up at the all too familiar ceiling grates. “Think the Boss’ll marry her?”

Lucky for Fix, Alco wouldn’t see the look of revulsion darkening his sharp features.

“No… He’ll probably just…”

“Adopt her?”

Again, in the way long silences were prone to their private conversations, another plagued them.

Fix crushed his cigarette beneath the glow of the neon decal lighting encompassing the room.

“Maybe. She’s blood-related… technically.”

---

Gordy Pearson was a veritable font of suppositions concerning the Coda Clan.

While he wasn’t a criminal lawyer like his father before him, he knew just as much about the legal system. Someone was going to pay for Kentaro’s murder, but they’d never be fortunate enough to find themselves in a court of their peers. Instead, he wagered, the thousand eyes of Dead Dragons would follow their every move until the time was right. Then, in the same way locusts swarmed fields of healthy crops, the perpetrator would be wholly consumed. After this, the cadaverous clan would return to their slumber, dreaming of nothing and nowhere and no one.

Having known Masao since their college years, Gordy considered himself an expert on the comings and goings of the Boss.

He also knew about the box.

Shuffling paperwork back into a presentable pile, Gordy tossed it into his incomplete stack so he was free to study other things. Kishi’s case file was a doozy. More than anything, he was surprised. Whether it was in Neo Paradiso or abroad, the young woman was well acquainted with scandal. Kentaro must have really loved her to have let her run loose like a wild animal. His gaze narrowed, expression slack. Did Masao know the extent of Kishi’s recklessness? Did he care?

His friend wasn’t known for his ambivalence, yet Kishi remained wild. Untamed. Gordy scanned the dates and times of the incidents, half assuming the woman was in Utopia or Metropolis during the last incident, but there was no record of anything. No comings and goings. No visual upload of Kishi entering or exiting the estates. No jumbled message left on the neuralnet. Nothing.

Of all the strange occurrences leading to Kentaro’s death, Kishi’s vanishing act was certainly one to look into.

He wrote a message to the meatheads in charge of the Yakuza’s daily doings. Isao Kuroda went by Fix to his fellow clan members, but Gordy wasn’t of the Dragon, thusly didn’t humor Isao with his favored nickname. He kept things official; business-oriented.

<Mr. Kuroda,

My deepest apologies for not being able to meet you and your associate, Mr. Ikehara, in person. I have some business I need to attend to at Central Station Hall. There’s a guest speaker discussing their work in revising polygenic scores and I’ve been dying to hear their speech.

As for the matter of Kishi Coda, I’ll arrange for one of my associates to pick her up and take her to the Marlow West on Central Boulevard. She’ll be safe there for the time being. Within the week, I’ll decide what course of action is best for Ms. Coda.

Best of luck with your poker game.

Regards,

G. Pearson>

—

Redolent? To some degree. What else?

Olivia sniffed the air in quiet contemplation, curious about the odor. Craning her pinched features, she veered left, stepping through the office and down the stairs parting the levels of the massive room.

The lower she went, the more offputting the smell was. Whatever tangy aroma first roused her interest soon only served to weakly mask a stench most foul. Rotten, putrescent and foreboding; she felt the first palpitations of fear as the trail led her to the gentle hum of the security safes lining the bottommost step.

Hesitant, she slowly knelt with audible pops of her knees. Placing one palm facedown to steady her kneeling, the other punched in the code to the first safe.

44612641

The safe hissed open, revealing the same genetic samples she had come to expect. She closed it quickly to move on to the second safe.

94382915

Nothing.

73324392

Nothing again.

By the time she opened the final safe, she thought herself quite mad. It obviously wasn’t coming from the compartment in question. Whatever the source, she need only scold the cleaning staff and it would be taken care of. Under her breath, she chuckled weakly, feeling old and senile and entirely too jumpy for her own good.

94253310

The safe popped open with a wet unsealing of the vacuumed insides until the contents met with the halogens brightening the office. There were several seconds of silence as she tried her hardest to determine just what she was seeing, but when the realization struck, it was too late to unsee it.

Olivia Wu screamed and, in the middle of that scream, promptly passed out.

—

Lights strobed, the flare and cast of contrasting sparks decorating the sprawling dancefloor.

Where the club ended was unclear, but it began with a wide maw that trafficked ravers in two crowded lines, leading them down a flight of narrow stairs until the dingy basement-esque landing fed clean beneath a cloud of neon decorations. The dancefloor, in turn, was a massive stain of dark tile, eventually bleeding into beginnings of a ramen shop with minimalist stools for seating and a very old processor bot behind the counter. Next came an augment station for gearheads and gadget chasers alike. The tinny drill sound of augments being inserted into craniums was hard to miss, and inescapable if one needed to get past the process.

A bathroom was carelessly crammed into the complex just beyond the augmenters, sandwiched right before the walls stretched into cubes of containment. Rooms. Rooms to rent to escape the thumping bass, rooms to hide from the light, rooms to ignore the stifled screams of first-time jackers and alpha enthusiasts. They were desperately tight rooms with little redeeming value aside from their promise of privacy.

The bed took up the majority of the flat, sharing its limited space with a closet that housed a toilet and a sink. No shower, no tub. A digital screen spanned the far wall opposite the bed, giving the current occupants a choppy Datafeed of the nightly news. It droned on, monotonous, with a friendly pair of Synth broadcasters offering perfect smiles. Ignoring it, Kishi had up her own feed playing in her head, a window of information projected directly to her eyes. Her companion was less fortunate, she guessed, because he hadn’t withdrawn into tending to digital matters as she did. He simply talked and talked and talked. It had been hours and he still hadn’t shut up.

“What does that make you?”

Kishi’s dark brows knit across their slight ledge, casting minute shadows over bright blue eyes.

“Not a synth.”

He shook his head, a half toppled green mohawk wagging with the motion. “No, like, uh… Fuck, you know. Ethnicity. Kishi is a strange name, right? Your tattoos are pretty fucking weird, too. Don’t know too many people with old school Japanese traditional stuff, you know? Not their whole back, anyway. Not their whole damn back.” He fidgeted with his hands but never seemed put off by how dirty they were. “I like your tattoos but they’re fuckin’ weird. Dunno if I’d have gotten them.”

“Best you don’t,” she assured softly, a hint of a smile curling her lips, “or you’re liable to be mistaken for someone you’re not.”

“Hm. Yeah, something like that.” He stared curiously, leaving the weight of his gaze on her neckline. “But you don’t look Japanese so it’s kinda dangerous for you to be done up like Yakazu, right? I got a buddy who can cover a big tattoo like that. He’s cheap, too. Good dude. He’ll even do payment plans if you’re strapped for credits.”

Kishi wrinkled her nose.

He noticed, so he added cautiously, “Unless you’re actually Yakuza. Shit happens. I won’t pry about it if it makes you uncomfortable or whatever.”

“I don’t look Japanese,” she started softly, “because I’m a splice. They used like 30 genetic samples when I was created. Japanese was one of them, but so was Icelandic, French, Italian, Korean, Egyptian, Russian, Pakastani- you get the idea.” She chuckled dryly. “Pretty costly stuff but it worked out for me.”

“Oh! So, like, your parents just opted to pick an’ choose what you look like? Are they Japanese?”

“Something like that. I don’t have parents, I guess. I have a father figure but he’s not my father. He’s more of a benefactor.” Eyes staring sightlessly at the datafeed, Kishi shrugged. “He raised me with a purpose. I had everything planned for me. Everything.”

Her companion sucked his teeth.

“So it’s all kinda up in the air for you then? I mean, if there’s a plan, that’s good, but this sorta place doesn’t seem like somewhere anyone with a plan would end up.” Glancing away to assess the state of their lodging, he snorted. “Wouldn’t be sleeping with me, at least. Alphas don’t play with betas unless they’re in trouble.”

Kishi didn’t answer. He was right, after all. Alphas didn’t play with betas unless they were in trouble. The elite of Neo Paradiso kept to their high towers in the clouds, centralized in the heart of the megacity. Why was she in Darkside, in the stretch of the skin district known as Sinner’s Alley? Splice boutiques made their start in places like this, but the rich cleaned them up and commercialized the industry. No more chop shops supposedly. No more meat markets where healthy bodies were sold to disease-riddled scum.

You could graft your genetic signature into just about anything, but brains were difficult to transplant. The rich could manage to move from body to body, but the poor simply replaced their dead parts. The easiest way to do that? Harvest a Splice made from your genetic coding. When she first learned about Hybrids and Splices, she cried for days. Maybe someone tried to console her, maybe they didn't. Who cared. Years later, in the back of her mind, she was crying. Had she ever stopped?

“-even if that’s the case, it’s alright. I’m not here to look into your background or whatever. You don’t have to get into it.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah. Right.” Feigning a smile, she projected her data relay to her left eye while the right returned to viewing the space they presently occupied. “I’ll be back in a tick. Getting hungry. You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m still buzzed. Maybe in a bit.” His body collapsed into the mattress. “You need me to come?”

“Nope. Alpha has this. Just chill.”

Slipping back into the skintight bodysuit she had been wearing when she arrived, Kishi stepped into her heels and tossed her hair into a wavy ponytail. Then, almost guilty over her plans, she added to the nameless partyer, “I never caught your name.”

“Rolfe.”

“Nice.”

She would never see Rolfe again.

Entering the club for a second time that evening was still jarring. She had forgotten the sound while tucked in the noise-proof cube of a room. The moment she transitioned into the hall leading toward the dancefloor and it’s connected businesses, the noise succeeded in smothering the rest of her senses. Even then, hustling through the warm crush of bodies undulating against her while bombarded by thundering drops and harsh pitches, Kishi worked tirelessly on her project. The span of the neuralnet was wide and the vision it offered was murky. Like everyone else, she was anonymous. With that sort of anonymity, she was free to find means to deal with her current problems.

Alphas don’t play with betas unless they’re in trouble.

[Headspace Headstone has connected.]

»//Headspace Headstone: Anyone around sinners alley rn?
»//bIIIIgnrdYYY: not if ur expensive
»//poxtoxshoxcox: thirsty fuck
»//Deckgrl3847: y would u go therre at night? tf?
»//01000011 01101111 01110111 01100010 01101111 01111001: Could be if it’s worth coming
»//Headspace Headstone: what would make it worth coming?
»//01000011 01101111 01110111 01100010 01101111 01111001: Me coming
»//poxtoxshoxcox: LMAO
»//Headspace Headstone: :/
»//Headspace Headstone: useless
»//Headspace Headstone: if someone wants to make fast credits, dm me. need help at SA. prefer if you’ve got a vehicle of your own.

[Headspace Headstone has disconnected.]

Finding herself met with a stale shower of rain as she finally left the club, she noted the name. Club Cancer. She couldn’t help laughing. Of course, it was.

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-25-2020

Vats come in three sizes.

The smallest is a personal pod. Fancy brand names, a slew of credible manufacturers. It isn’t scary. People put their children in personal pods. Oblong and oval or roomy and rectangular. The vat gel used is pastel, calming. The sort of colors you’d find on an Easter Egg. They even scent the suds differently. No harsh chemical odors.

The second size holds about ten times the juice a personal pod does. An industrial group vat. Workspaces can cut costs if they make a pitch to their financial departments about the benefit of buying in bulk. Big corporate is sneaky. They use a gel the color of charcoal or bleach or egg whites and it smells like burnt hair and battery acid. Most work-related incidents involve regular joes being drowned in vats while their coworkers continue their simulations. Sometimes, one slip is all it takes.

The last size is a tanker, which isn’t an official name but works to give some reference to what a monstrosity this thing is. Absolutely massive. You won’t see them outside prison wards, though. Nothing ethical about suspending thousands of people in gel for decades. No drain, no off switch, no deplug. Prisoners test new gels, new simulations; they’re just guinea pigs. Good tests, good results? You might earn time in a simulation of your choosing. A personal memory or a taste of life outside of the gel. If you’re good at finding sim bugs, you might get time taken off your sentence.

The gel is neon. Seas of pinks, greens, and electric blues. Like all those toxic frogs in the rain forests, it's a warning.

It’s funny to think about overstimulation killing people, isn’t it? Not a haha funny, but there’s something real dark and heinous and wicked and laughable about it. Maybe that desperate laugh someone gives after they’ve sobbed themselves ragged. Maybe a croaked guffaw at the inevitability of it. Maybe a hesitant chuckle because it’s uncomfortable and awful and there’s no avoiding talking about it so why not make light of a touchy topic?

I couldn’t say.

I died in simulation about thirty cycles back.

Just waiting for them to fish my body out of the gel and flush my ghost from the simulation.


______


Red rimmed, dusty. A rust stain. Teeth at the cuticle, blood in the cut. Iron on her tongue, globing, with each breath spraying specks over her chin. Uncoordinated.

Simulation restart.

April and raining. Fog over the bay, misty shapes crawling over the wreckage. Three screams seem like two too many.

Simulation restart.

Gasoline leaking from the ravaged backend of a pickup truck. Claw marks as big as the tailgate litter the concrete as bellied grooves. Every tread feels like skipping three steps on a steep stairwell. Too big, too fast. Isolated.

Simulation restart.

Stars are screaming in space. The wind whistles. Her head is full of songs, of images, of faces she thought she forgot. She makes an effort to remember names, their names, but only frustrated tears follow. Misguided attempt.

Simulation restart.

Hot, staticky. He’s got his hands all over her body. Down, down, down, and so far down, she can't question where he came from. With thighs spread, she takes him. It’s not quick. Eyes closed, lips quivering, there is a demon inside her. Say nothing. No one knows. Alone and in the neon of the tank, he takes her again from behind. Promises leak between them just as freely as seed and sweat. Neither can get enough. It’s a loop.

Wait.

It’s a loop.

Simulation restart.

---