Igraine

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Speaking as part of the 'we,' doing wonderfully today! Just got back from a lake cruise and wishing I could share the fantastic feeling - such a beautiful day trip! And I really hope your day is going wonderfully too Heroes!

And as for the Planet of the Apes movie? I haven't seen it yet, I'm actually saving it for next Monday as down time with my kids before we head back home. I've heard NOTHING but fantastic reviews from it (though I didn't really expect anything with Gary Oldman in it to bomb ) - so no spoilers yet!

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

XD So sorry Dot - yes, there was that whole "he tried to kill Daisy" thing, but there's still the comatose guy on the verge of death too part? >.> I kinda... All right fine I'm a little conflicted there, but I promise, if I didn't know Daisy couldn't TOTALLY handle herself, I'd have been way less sympathetic!

Looking forward to seeing what you come up with LP, can't wait to see how all this comes together - or explodes. Still a really interesting, exciting part! *grins*

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

That was wonderful Tirg - poor Max/Thad, and hey! I like the sappy! (shocker, right?)

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

"Well then let us pray that such weather does not descend these next several hours, shall we Mr. Goemon?" Galina's smile was wide, almost predatory now though there would have been nothing in either word or deed anyone might point to that meant the least malice.

But at least they had the measure of one another now, Mr. Goemon and Galina. For her part, Klara acted as if she noticed not at all the undercurrent of tensions between the two who shared the table with her, which in itself was a well-cultivated act perfected over the course of long decades. One did not simply work for the Demidov family, so much as assimilate all its ways, great and small, into one's own world.

Goemon was an excellent spy, skilled and agile with words at the least, though Galina had yet to witness his physical prowess - a physical prowess the importance of which, it seemed, he did his very best to down play. Lifeboats easy to lower, indeed! And then to retract as well? Well now, this was a sight she simply could not go to her grave without seeing! It was a testament to her professionalism that the only laughter in sight was the dancing golden light in her dark eyes.

Still, Goemon lied well, without so much as the least sprouting beads of moisture she could see, anywhere on his impressively bald-shaved pate. That had to take some doing, a virtually monumental effort of will and control that Galina truly admired. Even caught in a bold lie, the spy continued blithely, unrepentantly, which told her all she needed to know concerning any further dealings with Goemon tonight.

He most certainly was not working alone aboard this ship - which was really only to be expected on a mission of this size and complexity. And what that meant, was that she would have to proceed with an excess of caution, no matter the ease and humor and undeniable charm Mr. Goemon exuded. Further, when she returned Klara to their state rooms after dinner, she would leave once more very well-armed, with her

kindjal

, her .45 Colt Model 1898 and all her formidable wits wrapped about her to the last.

"No, no I should far rather delay the transfer of Mr. Slevin to the ship for a day or so, than allow any engineer 'friends' - no matter how well-meaning they may appear to be. The fewer eyeballs to witness, the fewer tongues to wag later after all." Galina did not add, 'The fewer tongues to cut out later as well.' Such admonitions probably went without saying anyway, and at the very least Galina could project the appearance she still bought into the entirety of Goemon's scheme, exactly as he had laid it out.

"I mean to say, of course, if you do not mind my providing my own input into these well laid out plans of yours, after all. Please do forgive any unseemly forwardness on my part, Mr. Goemon," Galina crooned softly, her melodic voice turned gently soothing, and subtly demure.

God forgive her, but she was having a great deal of fun this evening...

World of Darkness (Boston)

RoadRash said
Today was a mud-soaked hell that I honestly wasn't sure I'd survive.

No posting for me tonight. I need a beer, and to stop thinking about runaway bulldozers.

EDIT : And for this job to be over. That'd be nice...

:(

For you RoadRash

World of Darkness (Boston)

idlehands said
Looks like my post will have to wait, been away too busy today.

Unacceptable Idle, there will have to be consequences...



Hope things slow down for you soon, hon ;)

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Thank you so much T, and fantastic to hear from you, Hellis - lovely post!

World of Darkness (Boston)

HA! Pony is awesome, Justric - I just love her! So looking forward to your post, idle :)

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

When Fenrir's body plummeted to the earth, the ground trembled and bucked at the monumental impact, screaming in protest, absorbing the death of a god and breaking beneath the weight. And as the remains of Ardgroom's ancient circle shuddered in a quake like no other known on the Emerald Isle, all Veti could do was wrap her body about Thad's, holding him to her tightly and shielding him from the terrible wrath of the fallen Fenris.

The onslaught subsided - or at least the furious assault on the earth itself found something like an end. But as Veti raised her tear-streaked face, dirt-caked now and wild with anguish, she heard Siya's scream for help. Her head twisted about, mouth falling open in shock at what the vile verdant light illuminated. It was a sight she would not forget to the end of her days, her tiny vampiric friend bent under the weight of that lethal ball of malignant green lightning like Prometheus beneath the weight of the Earth.

No grief would keep Veti from her Siya's side. And she knew all too well that neither Thad - nor even the part of his soul she knew and loved as Max - would ever forgive her for not answering the tiny vampiress' cry. In the moments it took to lay Thad's fading body gently to the ground, kissing his forehead in a tender farewell before turning to sprint to Siya, Atticus had come to his lover's side as well. The incubus brought the infernal furies to bear, an image that would have driven any one of the Faithful to their knees in fervent, frightened prayer.

Shadow and Hell twisted and writhed beneath the emerald colored sphere that promised only death. A swift, slightly hysterical thought flashed through her head, the delicious irony that two forces whose essence was the very antithesis of life, had somehow managed to keep the wrath of a god from killing them all. Veti probably even laughed, deep and more than a little frantic, as she dashed to maw of the dead Fenrir, once again becoming the crimson wolf in the space of her long, loping strides.

There was no plan. Not really, not one she could have truly, properly called a strategy of any sort. All she knew, was that Aislinn's face flashed across her mind's eye, and then Reginald's, and then the all the faces that populated the strange dream she'd had, the werewolves meeting by firelight among the standing stones of Ardgroom - and she felt a sudden, confident and undeniable strength surge through her body like electricity, a power she simply knew was not merely her own.

Veti's ebony-tipped claws wrapped about the canine tooth of the Fenris wolf, the very one she had seen small enough to be carried by Aislinn Hoyle, the talisman the white wolf use to break the chains that bound the god. Screaming to the green-tinted heavens above, the thick, coiled muscles roiling beneath the crimson-furred flesh, she ripped the fang from its moorings and vaulted up the Fenrir's body.

Veti did not hesitate for a moment as she plunged into the frigid shadows and the sulfurous fumes of Hell and, with both hands, slammed the Fenrir's own fang like a spear into the sphere that carried the vengeance of a god.

The pain was... Indescribable. The rancor of a god was distilled agony, and a river of burning torment coursed down her fingers, her arms, searing its way down her spine and through her powerful legs. She could feel the flesh sloughing off her claws where the fang was buried, blazing down her forearms and even baking fur and skin from the top of her head and face. Not even the regenerative powers of the werewolf should have kept her there, standing and - somehow, miraculously even - still alive.

But clinging to this mortal coil meant there was no end to the torturous scorching that blasted her again and again, waves of a relentless, emerald firestorm; nor the howling crescendo of a scream that was torn from the werewolf's throat and carried across the ruins of Ardgroom like a harrowing gale.

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

Antonia thanked every last loa her own Maman had ever taught her; she praised God in heaven and all the saints she had ever known when she saw the oddly out of place trio making their way toward the Dusk Skate's berth. The rogue smiled widely to Thomas, giving a silent cheer with an upraised arm - though whether he saw her or not, she could not say - the man was, after all, rather occupied seeing his ship underway.

No matter, he would know soon enough that his new cabin boy had finally boarded. Antonia swung easily down the rigging, hand-under-hand, her whole body swaying lightly on a rope until, several feet above the deck, the rogue let go. She dropped, landing as lightly as a shed feather before she rose to her booted feet, striding toward the gangplank.

"Oh... Oh thank God... Madeleine, I was not sure you would come... " The two women fell into each other's arms, the hard, angry and hurtful words hurled only hours ago erased completely from all thought, no more than smoke on the wind now, forgiven and forgotten utterly.

"I was not either," Madeleine whispered into her dear friend's ear, "Until I saw one too many red coats about the road, far too early this morning outside the Parakeet. Alongside a few too many pairs of strange eyes on the streets, not red enough with too much drink or too little sleep? No, there was no other choice... " She pulled back from Antonia, taking a deep breath though her smile remained tremulous at best.

John remained silent, and the rogue suspected it had more to do with his unwillingness to weep before all these roughened strangers and his own son, than sheer lack of anything to say. But Luc was simply beside himself, waiting for the moment for his Maman and his Tante 'Tonia to pull apart before eagerly inserting himself into the conversation.

"I have brought Capitaine Lightfoot's gold piece," the boy piped up proudly, patting his burlap knapsack proudly, "And look!" Luc reached for a leather thong tied about his neck, pulling up the sharply glinting prize secured there beneath his white linen shirt. "The tooth from Monsieur Jax's great shark, his prize from Mistress Moon! Maman fixed it for me!"

Antonia made all the appreciative noises necessary to see the boy's face light proudly, running her fingers through his dark curls so affectionately. Small talk was difficult in these moments, as the adults did their very best to appear cheerful for the sake of Luc's spirits, as if this sudden change of plans were truly some grand surprise of an adventure, and not a desperate plan born of unflinching necessity. But still the three soldiered on, the two women perhaps far better than the giant red-headed man, who frequently had to stop to blow his nose, and curse some an oncoming, unseasonal cold for his tearing, bloodshot eyes.

But preparations for the imminent departure of the Dusk Skate made lingering farewells even more difficult than they obviously already were. Those parting embraces for Luc were bittersweet: a shower of kisses from his Maman who he loved her far too much to complain about (though he secretly prayed the angelic Mademoiselle Beauchamp was not looking his way); and a great bear hug in his Papa's burly arms that lifted the boy several feet from the ship's deck, leaving him breathless, grinning and a little red-faced.

The farewells for the rogue were far tenser, though quieter, subdued, and nothing that Luc would have ever noted but for the notable and whispered words between them. Yes, yes she would find a solution to this impossible dilemma, and Luc would be back with his loving parents imminently. Antonia would watch over him always, and never let him from her sight wherever the Skate was in port. Of course, she would ensure Luc wrote them wherever possible, that he practiced his letters and reading and, of course, learned navigation and charting and geography...

Antonia stood beside Luc, her arm wrapped about his shoulders as they watched his parents step down the gangplank. At least a dozen backward glances over their shoulder were invariably met with smiles, and waves, until Madeleine and John disappeared once more into the burgeoning early morning crowds of Port Royal. The rogue sighed heavily, equal parts undeniable relief and heartache warring in her gut.

But her thoughts were pulled from any maudlin musings at the boy's piping voice. "Tante 'Tonia, you look so strange," Luc said with all a child's unfiltered boldness, eyeballing her oversized shirt and the trousers and the boots dubiously. It was not until those dark amber-lit eyes turned upward to the Amazon lily braided neatly in her hair, that the perplexed expression fell away

"Except that," he continued, pointing to the flower. "That suits you."

Antonia only laughed, wrapping her arm all the tighter about Luc's shoulders and pulling him even closer for a moment. "Well skirts are an incredible pain to manage when you're climbing the rigging, and far too heavy when you are being drenched in a torrential storm. You will see Luc," she said with a sly grin.

"You too will be glad, not to have to negotiate skirts yourself soon enough! But let's get you settled in, find you a hammock and a spot to stow your pack. You will certainly be put to work, but no worse than at home in the Parakeet I imagine. Do not expect or ask for gold pieces or shark teeth for every least thing you do here, Luc. You will be paid in knowledge and learning in many different subjects aboard the Dusk Skate, and earn your own way, and that will be enough."

"A hammock? I'll be sleeping in a hammock!?" The enthusiastic grin said Luc had pretty much stopped listening to her words right around the point of his sleeping arrangements, and Antonia burst into bright laughter all over again. Fine, fine... There would be time to go over duty, responsibilities and expectations once they were actually away from the docks, after all...