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Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

A Reaper knew the treacherous eddies of Death like the back of her hand, but today, they seemed colder, more cunning than usual. Daisy told herself it was just exhaustion, the fact that she had been here already, yanking souls through from life, handfuls at a time. A quick glance told her most of her former attackers had moved on, dragged away by the water, or perhaps just a grief all their own.

She felt Aislinn before she saw her, as was the case with all such venerable souls. Still, she was nearly upon the werewolf before she could convince herself of what had really happened.

Daisy approached carefully. Dead she may be, but she was also her employer's sister, and Daisy was not keen to get fired now. Not if Veti really was okay. She didn't think Aislinn would try to hurt her, but Daisy had been wrong many, many times before.

"You're Bossman's sister," she said abruptly, drawing a cone of silence around the ancient wolf. She was too far gone for Daisy to bring her back, but she would not have to succumb to Death's pull yet. Not if Daisy could help it. "I...mean Aislinn," she corrected after a moment.

"I thought...my frien--er...Veti. I thought she was...but...it's you. Um. Sorry."

The old wolf looked up to Daisy. She regarded the reaper with the same innocent curiosity that had been her hallmark in life, and her spirit form nodded sagely.

“It is not so tragic a thing,” Aislinn said, “Death I mean. Though I only just met its embrace, there is something freeing about it…” she paused to cant her head, as if listening to something far off, “…especially now knowing that your friend, and my packmate,” Aislinn added with a wolfen smile, “will see another moonrise.”

Aislinn’s wispy form shrugged, and her great werewolf body shook like a dog just coming from the rain. She regarded the pink-haired reaper as she finished.

“So, tell me, what now? Where do you take me? I have always enjoyed adventures, and I suppose truly that this shall be my last.”

She smiled again, waiting with hopeful eyes for what would come.

Daisy stared at the wolf for far longer than what was polite, especially considering her age and importance and all that. But it was far preferable -- at least in terms of reputability -- to the other thing she'd been about to do: smile.

She wanted to say something along the lines of, "For being related to Boss Man Wolf, you're not so bad." She decided against it. For all she knew, they might be that last kind words Aislinn ever heard, and even if Daisy didn't care much for politeness, she liked Veti, and she knew what the old wolf meant to her.

"I wish I could say," Daisy offered instead. "I dunno. They don't tell us that part. Guess it's supposed to be a surprise for us, too." She shrugged and started walking with no real apparent direction, though the young Reaper knew precisely where she was headed. Or as much as she could, anyway.

Aislinn regarded the reaper, disappointment evident upon her face.

“I see,” she said. “I suppose that the cosmos reserves that knowledge for those that have earned the right to make the journey. Fitting, I suppose.”

Something about the phrase "earned the right to make the journey" felt jarring, almost hurtful, but Daisy said nothing. All living beings, she had learned, had an obsession, for better or worse, with Death. Best not to spoil things at the last. There was an awkward silence for a moment, then Daisy continued on a whim.

"I brought another werewolf here once," she said idly, finding Aislinn's nature made her remarkably easy to talk to, even for Daisy. Even after she'd thought Veti was...but she wasn't. So it didn't matter.

"A year ago. He was Veti's friend, too. But he stabbed her, so he...y'know, he had to go." Daisy made a face. "Veti gets stabbed a lot. Or twice since I've known her. But that's, like, two more times than I've ever been stabbed."

She glanced at the wolf and might have blushed if she'd been human. Instead, she chewed her lip and pointed up ahead where a veil of fog and mist seemed to have risen from nowhere, a waterfall that seemed to fall upward and disappear into a haze of sepia-gray.

"That's your last stop," she said. "I can only take you as far as that. But I can make it easy...well, easier for you. Warmer, at least." She pasued awkwardly, trying to figure out how to word the next part.

The werewolf turned to look at the strange cascade of reddish-brown fog. Even for a creature that had seen several century’s worth of strange and otherworldly things, the fog was unsettling in a way Aislinn could not explain. She felt equal parts excitement and regret as she looked to it, feeling ultimately that this truly was the final step, the last moment in time that she could possess any connection with her time among the realm of the living.

"I...um...know...I mean...Veti," Daisy offered, staring at her feet. "And...and maybe Atticus. Boss Man Vampire...and...uh...your brother...I can...I mean, if you wanted...to...y'know, say something...I could...I could tell them for you. If you want."

When the reaper offered Aislinn the last gift she could give, the werewolf turned to her with ghostly tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

“I would…I would very much appreciate that.” Aislinn choked.

"Right, so -- " Daisy started awkwardly, half turning back toward the gate, then Aislinn. And then she stopped. Aislinn was crying. And Daisy was undone. She had had this conversation more times than she could count. And yet this one unnerved her for some reason. Perhaps it was only the knowledge that for once, she would be returning to the other side to pass on these futile condolences. And not just to anyone. To Veti. Again.

For a time Aislinn merely silently cried, her spirit-mind reeling with just what to say to the few that she loved enough to grant her final words. Her eyes fell to look at her fingers, spectral and pale in this strange realm of limbo. She clenched them and brushed the tips of them together, and a sob shook her as she felt nothing. Her mood, so genial and optimistic just a moment ago was dashed by the sinking reality of what lie ahead, and what she had been forced to leave behind.

Daisy waited while the werewolf settled herself, her own senses extending in every direction as she did, keenly aware that it would not do to tell Reginald Hoyle his sister's soul had been hijacked. And when at last she spoke, Daisy poured herself into memorizing every word, every instant of punctuation, the gentle cadences of the werewolf's backwards eulogy, her parting words to those she left behind.

“Tell Reginald,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper. “Tell Reginald that all his life he has done right by me. More than the bond of our blood ever required. Tell him I love him.”

Aislinn looked back into the reaper’s eyes. “For Victoria, tell her that though I barely knew her, that in my heart of hearts she was my sister. My packmate. My blood. In all my life I only ever had Reginald,” she smiled then, tears of joy now running across the soft fur of her face, “and she granted me that chance to belong to another of my own. Tell her that she gave me the greatest gift I have ever received.”

With tears still running from her eyes, Aislinn grew silent. Her gaze steeled to one of quiet resignation, and she lifted a hand to the reaper.

“I thank you, for all of your kindness. I am ready. Lead on.”

Daisy nodded once and took her hand and the two started toward the wall of mist.

"You shouldn't thank me," she said quietly.

Aislinn frowned at little, slightly taken aback by the reaper's words as she took her hand. She said nothing in response however, as the inquiry seemed as unnecessary as it was futile. This was truly the end, and whatever came beyond this period of brief purgatory would be soon at hand.

She allowed the reaper to lead her forward, and Aislinn watched with wide eyes as the ghostly wall soon dominated the whole of her vision. Tendrils of mist touched her flesh, and she thought that it surely must be cold, but again no sensation came to pucker her skin. A shiver coursed over her body nonetheless, and Aislinn gave the reaper's hand and hard squeeze.

Now the mist enveloped the whole of her. Her eyes knew only the sepia swirl that had become her world, and with a thought that came like a hazy memory, Aislinn looked down to see that the reaper no longer gripped her hand. With a strange and warming calm she turned about in place, realizing with the same detachment as the previous thought that this sense must be the final gift of the reaper. She smiled then, relishing this last piece of kindness she would ever know like the fading face of Mother Moon as the Sun came to obscure her silvery light.

She looked upward into the mist, and with the smile etched upon her woflen face, Aislinn Hoyle stepped forward into arms of oblivion, and she knew no more.

--

The trip back was quick, uneventful. It had to be. Artie was pissed and Daisy was tired, and saying goodbye -- had she ever even said it? Those actual words? -- to Aislinn had been...Daisy was ready for sunlight again, even if she couldn't feel it's warmth.

By the time she reached what was left of the London quarters, it was only Boss Man and his sister. Or what was left of her. She could still feel a seething rage rolling off Artie, but he had reduced himself out of respect, a small black vulpine thing waiting patiently for its keeper at the edge of the shade gate. Daisy silenced his advances with a look before carefully, quietly, as reverently as she could, approaching the grieving wolf.

"I...Mr...um..." Daisy stopped herself and took what would have amounted to a deep breath if she were alive. There was a time, she knew, to be petty and childish and uncertain, and Daisy was not the last of these on her best days. The wolf deserved a fitting goodbye, free of sarcasm and teenaged nuances.

"I...found your sister. I went after her. I thought...it doesn't matter. But you should know she went safely. She's happy. Or...she's content. And she wanted me to tell you...she said...you always did right by her. More than she thought she deserved. She said she loves you."

She left it there a moment, a cheaper paraphrase of words she could never in a hundred years hope to duplicate. And she started to leave the wolf to himself, to follow the others and give him the time she knew he wanted alone.

But she stopped herself again, this time, quieter, careful. As young and innocent, perhaps, as Daisy had ever been.

"Mr. Hoyle?" she started, not quite making eye contact. "I...I've been doing this a long time. Or I think I have, it's hard to know sometimes, and...uh. Never mind. I just mean...I've seen a lot of people go through those gates. Humans and werewolves and vampires. That thing...what they say in the movies, about people showing who they really are in their last moments...it's truer than most mortal creatures know. And Aislinn..." Daisy shrugged, awkward, helpless.

"I just thought you might want to know she saw you. I won't say I'm sorry for you loss. That makes it sound like someone stole your bike, instead of...instead of her. So, I'll just say that. She saw you."

And then she stepped backwards through the gate and was gone.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Yup, I'll have Heroes' and mine up by tomorrow morning. Meant to make some final edits this afternoon and got carried away.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I think I'll be ready to post ours after your next response, Heroes. =)

Never Lose Your Hat!

His apathy derailed her entirely.

In an instant, Ivy had gone from terrified, raging, to just...staring. She could still feel her shoulders trembling against the wall of the room they'd crashed into the night before. She could still feel her heart pounding, her ears buzzing with shock. If anything, his complete and total lack of regret or anything like it only infuriated her more. But it felt...gaudy, dramatic to be so angry while he was so calm. She had a brief, bizarre flashback of the night before, an instant of clarity in the chaos -- his resentment toward her at not understanding his grief over the missing hat. Was this how he felt? Was that what it was to be a Jaegar? To be so attached to a hat, that losing it was like losing a limb?

She wasn't feeling especially sympathetic.

And yet...by the light of day, his words and actions held more merit. She vaguely recalled being excited over her discovery of the apparently venomous toad's tooth -- a quick scan found it amid the soppy pile of rust-colored rags that had once been Mama Petra's apron -- and then her excitement over discovering the change. From here, though, she could see it was perhaps not so wonderful as she'd thought. If Jötz was telling the truth, he might have saved her a grisly, if not slimy, demise. And she'd be lying to say her fever dreams hadn't included half a dozen ideas for new and improved limbs, though nothing seemed quite as appetizing now that she was on her feet.

Still. Life saving actions or no, he had taken only an instant and left her without a hand. it should not have surprised her. In fact, this was the only thing she'd ever known of Jaegers that had so far turned out to be true. But somehow, she had been. Perhaps she was only ashamed of her own naiveté.

"I can handle it myself," she said hoarsely, and though she was no longer screaming, her voice was cold. But she peeled herself off the wall, anyway, her entire body tensed to run if it came to that. She crept forward, without ever once taking her eyes off him, and folded her bloodied apron into her arms. Arm. It was more difficult than she might have thought, and the realization made tears of anger and fear burn her eyes. She blinked them back. If the Jaegar was going to be cavalier about his grotesque actions, then so would she.

She straightened again when at last she'd managed to tuck the bundle under one arm. Tying it around her waist again was out of the question. She regarded Jötz coolly, trying to keep her expression frank.

"I think we should separate immediately. Er...once we get out of this hole. And then immediately after that."

Animorphs

Max had been halfway across the empty lot -- half because she was anxious to get home, but also because she'd scared an old tomcat with her entry and was now chasing after it to make sure it wasn't hungry or lonely or angry or hurt -- when the crash did throw her off her feet. Almost fifteen years spent in gymnastics accounted for next to nothing when Max was distracted, and between the dark, the cat, and the growing feeling of something about to go horribly wrong, distracted she had been.

She hadn't seen what or where whatever it was had been when it made the noise, but whirling around, she was quick to spot a stout, thick pillar of smoke and dust rising from the gutted carcass of a half-finished building.

For a moment, all she could do was stare. It was clear, even to Max, something had crash-landed in the yard. It couldn't have been all that large, because the building was still standing, aside from some smoldering rubble knocked from crumbled walls. But it must have been going fast to shake the earth like it had, and anyway, all that smoke certainly couldn't be good, and anything coming from the sky, must have come from somewhere else first, which probably meant someone was inside the thing -- a helicopter? a private place? a motorized paraglider? -- and oh, no what if they were hurt?!

Max was running almost before she realized it. In her mind, there was no possibility of danger outside the possibility of someone being hurt. There was no room for anything else. Thoughts of fire, weaponry, UFOs, and War-Of-The-Worlds aliens -- all things that would have warranted consideration and a ten-minute daydreaming kick in any other situation -- were now null and void. There was only the potential of someone hurt and scared and by themselves, and Max couldn't just stand by and watch.

She'd forgotten all about Mario and Theo, didn't know or care whether they were behind her. She had a cellphone and two hands, and she was going to help.

She reached the gutted building and hauled herself through what had been a window before stopping again, eyes wide.

It wasn't a paraglider.

But it wasn't unharmed, either.

Undaunted, Max stepped forward.

"Um...hello? Is someone...in there? Do you need help?"

Saloon City -- A Rural Noir RP

Violet Avett gave a sleepy, indulgent sigh and reached over without looking to her pile of clothes beside Leo Thomson's bed. She sifted through layers of cotton stiff with sweat and...other things until her fingers found cool metal. Grinning, she rolled over, unscrewed the lid of her flask, and took a long, hard pull. She swallowed, grimaced, and shook the thing at Leo.

"Thirsty?"

"What is it?"

"Mother's milk," she replied drily, rolling, naked, from the bed to pull on her dress. Northern flapper fashions hadn't quite his Pickett yet, but then Vi had never been one to wait for permission. The forest green skirts nipped close, floating almost three inches above her knee. She pretended not to notice Leo staring in equal parts lust and admiration. The kid was three years young than her twenty-five and thought he was head over heels in love.

Vi just happened to agree. Boys could be stupid like that.

"You gonna drink, or you just gonna watch me get dressed again?" She turned her head abruptly, the green of the dress making her eyes all the more verdant.

Leo went six shades darker and took a too-big gulp, coughing half of it up over his bare chest. Vi rolled her eyes, but didn't laugh. Boys could be stupid like that, too, and she needed this one on her side.

"You okay, cutie?" she said, doing her best to sound genuinely concerned.

Leo nodded, still not quite able to speak. When he could, he dragged his hand over his mouth, eyes watering. "Y-yeah. This the stuff? It's kinda...um..."

"It's real," Vi finished for him with a shrug. "And it's real strong, too."

"And where'd you say you got it?"

Vi smiled and sat down on the bed, curls of red hair falling down over her bare chest. Leo moved under the sheets. Again, she pretended not to notice. "I didn't. But don't you worry, honey, it's fresh from the source. How much do you want for you and your boys?"

"Couple jugs, I guess, but Vi, that price -- "

Vi gave him her perfected pout. Willa had made her runner for the 'shine a year and a half ago, and she was good at her job. Maybe not quite the way Willa wanted, but she made the sales.

"It's only fair, baby. We're getting it fresh from the source and carting it all the way out there to Erskine for you..."

"I'm doing the driving, Vi."

She grinned and looped her arms around his neck. Her breasts nuzzled his shoulder, and he went red under her touch. "Yeah, but I'm coming with you."

Leo's face, skeptical, brightened at once. "Really? You're coming to the party? I--I mean the Winter Gala?" He'd already told his fraternity brothers about the 'older woman' he was seeing, he'd never be able to show his face again if --

"You're buying the 'shine?"

"Baby, if you'll be my girl, I'll buy the whole damn load."

Vi giggled and clapped her hands excitedly. "Leo Thomson, you are my Prince Charming."

Of course, she'd have to find her way to that stupid 'gala' now. But Leo never could hold his liquor. Chances were she could sneak out not twenty minutes after walking in the door.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

^^It may take just a bit longer, I've been busy at work and holding us up. Boooo Dot.

Animorphs

=D

Saloon City -- A Rural Noir RP

Kitty stifled a smile by biting down hard on her lip. She'd seen the flash of bitter nostalgia wash over his face. Even if she hadn't known him, it would have been easy. She recognized it herself.

But he moved on quickly, like everyone learned to do, pretending to ignore the faint pink flush that peeked out from the collar of his uniform. She waited until he'd sort of kind of finished stammering before raising and expectant brown and nodding. She wouldn't tell Willa, probably not even Vi. But both of them were gone often enough she was pretty sure she could hack it. Still. She'd have to be careful. Keep the old clay jugs out of sight, make sure Willa didn't pass through on her way to or from the still. She knew John's 'family business' wasn't any more credible in his eyes than her own was. But if he could pretend to ignore it, so could she.

She nodded again, her smile a little warmer this time, if still teasing, and nodded down the road before pushing off on her bike again. She waited a full five seconds before turning to wave over her shoulder.

Saloon City -- A Rural Noir RP

Kitty made a face at the mention of the Tillman boys. The middle boy, Ralph Tillman, had come up in some of the same classes Kitty used to take and had spent hours torturing her outside the school house. She was old enough now to know it was his way of flirting, but he'd sent her home crying one too many times for her to feel apologetic.

Of course, when Vi found out, she'd hit him so hard, he'd lost a tooth. So maybe they were about even.

She rolled her eyes and grinned at John, but the grin vanished as soon as he said her brother's name. Jacky Avett was too good, too damn noble to really despise anyone, but he'd started being real bitter about the Normans around the same time Daddy had started teaching Kitty how to clean the still.

Except John Norman. He'd always liked John. And that made Kitty absolutely crazy.

But she made herself smile, because it wasn't John's fault her asshole older brother respected him. She nodded once, avoiding the topic of Jack completely. It was easier that way, for all three of them.

There was more she could have said -- sort of -- but how was she supposed to say what else had been going on? Even if John suspected she'd been at the still, it wasn't like she was going to just out and tell him about it. She could drop hints about skipping school, maybe. She was pretty sure he wouldn't make her go. It wouldn't make a difference, anyway. But if that got back to Willa, she'd be barred from the still for a week, and she'd already promised to help Vi run the new batch.

Instead, she pointed to his badge and shrugged, her haze half playful, and half concerned, asking a question she wouldn't have known how to word even if she could.