Justric

Found Alive

Sounds like a plan, as the saying goes!

The Orphan's Wedding

Oh, my! That's a loaded question! Lets see... Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Rudyard Kipling, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Robert Browning, Christina Rossetti, Mark Twain. Just no Edgar Allen Poe, please? I was "Poe'd" to death in high school. A second alternative would be any of the Child Ballads (if you're familiar with them.) A third possibility? Just write something yourself! Don't worry about how 'good' it is or isn't, just so long as it's heartfelt!

I think your drawings show some promise, actually. It just takes practice, is all, like anything else in life. Mind you, I can't draw a straight line for want of a ruler, but your work is far better than a lot of webcomics I've seen out there (and I've seen some pretty bad webcomics!!) The most important thing is that it brings you joy, regardless of what anyone else says.

The Orphan's Wedding

You mentioned that the hand giving you trouble was your drawing hand. Are you an illustrator/artist, as well? And (if it's not too personal) are there any examples I might see? I have no talent when it comes to visual art myself, but I love seeing what others can do!

The Orphan's Wedding

The cart rumbled beneath him as he sat upon its driver's bench, the bay gelding young enough to easily pull the orchard's flatbed along while being just old enough to not be frisky about it. The bed behind Victor was empty. His bad leg he kept propped up on the wagon's splashboard at an angle to keep the joint from being jostled too much; while serviceable and sturdy, the wagon's banded suspension springs needed to be replaced soon. Still, the access road through the orchard had been kept smooth enough over the years that Victor wasn't bounced out of his seat. In fact, the ruts were worn so completely into the path that he didn't even really need to guide the horse with the reigns! It would have taken a great deal of effort even for the three year old gelding to pull the wheels of course. He didn't really even think about that though. His mind was far too busy on other matters.

Why am I doing this?? he berated himself internally. Am I really neglecting work to go look at a pretty girl?? There are things that have to be done! I need to hire folks to help harvest the apples, remember? That's what this guest's money is paying for after all, for me to pay workers to help out! The cider press needs cleaning, too, a good pumice stone scrubbing. And the preserves, I have to get over to one of the larger towns and order jars and lids and wax for the preserves! And let's not forget cutting wood for winter! I should be marking which trees can be harvested. And these are just the things off the top of my head! Am I doing any of them? No!! i'm off to see some chit of girl from the city!!

Only as the cynic in him raged on with its tirade, Victor found a calmer and warmer flow of reasoning within him to answer. No. Not 'a pretty girl,' it said. A young woman. A beautiful young woman with thick, healthy hair and dusky dark skin and a soothing voice and eyes... those eyes... It was Kijani's eyes that drew him out of his work shed and into the orchard's rows. He could have allowed himself to be curious, of course, of that there was no doubt. Did she really come all the way out to the middle of nowhere for a vacation? To him it didn't matter. Victor had his own secrets and he wasn't about to begrudge Kijani hers. All he wanted in that moment was to see her.

Victor spied her sitting beneath the great tree, reading. He knew how to read himself, enough to get by at any rate. Much like sums, he knew what he needed to know and didn't get much farther than that as there had far more important things to learn while growing up. The idea of books, that there could be so much worth reading as to bind it all between two covers, escaped him. Ledgers, charts, maps, inventories... these things he could understand. The rest? It was outside his realm of experience.

The road did not go up the hill to Grandfather Apple, only by it. There were indications that at some point it might have, old stone markers half sunk into the earth that might once have outlines a path up to the tree and its ancient semi-circle of benches. Whatever importance the tree once had faded long ago as maintaining the orchard became more important, and so that road to the hill's crest was long abandoned. If it had ever truly been. Victor stopped the cart and set the break, leaving the horse in its harness to munch on whatever nearby grass it desired. Grabbing his cane, he stumped upwards to where Kijani sat with her book. He had no idea of what to say to her, how to approach her. Three years he had played the hermit and played it well enough that what little social graces he might have known were now faded like the hill's road.

He stopped a little way from her, leaning on his stout cane for support as he looked upon her from the side. Had she heard or seen him come up the side towards her? Victor had no way of knowing, and as much as a part of him wanted to just stand there and take in the sight of her, he feared what the city woman's reaction might be if she found him hovering and staring in silence. Finally he gave a little rumbling cough. And the words that then came out of his mouth were words he would never have expected himself to say.

"Would you... read to me? From your book there? Please?"

Never Lose Your Hat!

There were times to look back over one's shoulder, and there were times to run straight ahead while trying not to even think about what was coming up behind you. For Jötz, this was one of the latter. Only slightly less worrying was the eagerness in which Ivy had accepted the proffered weapon, the gun being nearly yanked out of his hand as he passed it up to her. By the sounds that followed, however, she was putting it to good use! He only winced a little when her elbows dug into his shoulder blade with each thunderous recoil; for the first time in many decades, Jötz had to wonder if he was going to have bruises. That thought was quickly driven out by the growling croak that was more scream than ribbit. Ivy had apparently scored at least one critical hit on the beast. The sounds of its brood were beginning to lessen as his pounding legs put more distance between them and the toads, and the Jaeger did everything he could to ensure that as many large boulders, trees, hummocks and other obstacles were included in that distance.

Still... he couldn't help but notice that many of the formations were oddly rectangular in shape. He nodded in distraction as the girl suggested finding somewhere new to hide. "Dat's a gut idea!" he called back up to her. "Lessee if ve can-"

Jötz didn't have a chance to complete his sentence as the ground suddenly gave way beneath them. Even before he began to fall that first inch, he was cursing himself for not paying more attention. Trap? Sinkhole? Underground river? It didn't matter. At the stomp of one heavy heeled boot, the mossy rocks beneath them shifted to pitch them into darkness. Even as he swore under his breath, instinct kicked in. Long, green furred arms wrapped around Ivy to pull her off his shoulder and into his chest, sheltering her so that any impact would fall mainly upon his body and not hers. There was a change in sensation as they dropped. The odor was drier, staler than up above with its thick marsh stench and moldy wetness, and it was an even stone floor that he bounced across several times before rolling to a stop against some sort of wall, a shower of stone, slate and decrepit wooden slats coming down with them. Vague light filtered in from the hole they had just dropped though.

Even with his senses dealing, Jötz could see that it was a manmade chamber of some sort. Without additional light, it was hard to see any other details, but he was sure that there was little in nature that made floors and walls and ceilings so perfectly straight. Even though they had stopped, it was several heartbeats before he began to relax his protective embrace around the young woman.

The Bonny Black Hare

The convention went... well. Sadly a few others in between now and then have not, and my resources are becoming a bit strained. Still, there are two more to go this month for me, so we'll see what the tides of fortune might bring in.

The Bonny Black Hare

I'm glad to hear from you! While I was wondering what might have happened, I hadn't descended into outright panic yet. Believe me when I say that I know the harsh realities of real life! Usually I don't give up on an RP until at least a month has passed since last hearing from my partner.

Do I wish to continue? Hm. Can I say "yes" loudly or quickly enough? (Laughing delightedly) By all means, if you are still willing to continue then so am I. Your writing style is wonderful and humorous, intelligent without being overly verbose, and I am glad to have you as a partner on this story! Write at what pace is most comfortable and convenient for you, and let us see what we can make of it together!

Found Alive

Whew! That took a lot out of me! I hope it's what you where looking for.

Found Alive

He could hear the noise even in the deep recesses where the 'living quarters' were tucked, each family or individual having their own separate pocket within the caves system. There were no beds in The Colony, only nests. Blankets and fabrics were piled upon the cave floor within these small pockets to keep the cold rock from stealing the warmth from their bodies, and the walls were hung with sheetings and animal hides to further reduce the chill. It was always a steady 55 degrees in the caves, even when packed with people. Not cold enough to freeze to death but certainly not warm enough to be comfortable without making certain adjustments. For Lucien, Pony was just such an adjustment.

Her small body was like a furnace as she snuggled against him, sleepily pulling him back down to into their blankets even as he sought to rise. "No," she moaned. She was only half awake herself. "Let the others deal with it, Luc. It's not a general alarm or anything."

It was tempting, he had to admit. Lucien really had no desire to involve himself in whatever political crap had brewed up this time. It was amazing how even with humanity teetering on the brink of extinction the survivors still had the strength and will to argue with each other on how things should be done. Like any other human community, there were always dissenters. Not that it mattered, as no matter who came out on top they tended to do whatever Uncle advised anyway. Lucien wanted no part of it. Go out, find salvage, kill robots... That was all the really mattered. Although having Pony waiting for him whenever he returned was... something. He couldn't claim she made him happy or that he loved her, but he did appreciate her and felt a certain fondness for the petite girl. It was far more a symbiotic relationship than a romantic one as far as Lucien was concerned; Pony kept him going while he filled some sort of twisted need within her.

She contentedly kissed his shoulder as he settled back to sleep into their shared nest. Even before they could fall back to completely into slumber, however, the thick fabric that served to give them what little privacy there was to be had was pushed aside to reveal Uncle. The old man had a serious cast to his features. Pony groaned and buried her head beneath a pillow even as Lucien propped himself up on one elbow. "Uncle?" he mumbled. "What's going on? I didn't think we were headed out again until later today."

The old man shook his head, his mouth curled into a grimace made all the more fierce by his wild beard. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the largest cavern, the one used for community gatherings and meetings. "You better get down to the Cathedral, Lucien." Was there something more to the old man's face? Was that pity in his eyes? "And if I were you? I'd hurry."

Letting the sheet drop back into place, Uncle turned away to leave Lucien puzzled as to what could be so important. Sighing in annoyance, the young man pushed the tangled mass of warm fabrics aside to look for his clothes: khaki cargo pants with a worn grey t-shirt, heavy black combat boots and a thick sweater of yellowing white wool to keep the chill off. Pony echoed his sigh in amusement before starting to dress as well in similar clothing. The only difference between them was the webbed belt that Lucien donned last, the heavy weight of his father's .45 hanging hard on his hip; Pony carried no weapons other than a combat knife for last resorts.

They trudged together out of the Quarters and down towards the Cathedral where most of the Colony seemed to have amassed. The corridor connecting one to the other ended in a balcony that overlooked the community area, and from there Lucien could make out nearly everybody. There was Toni and his wife, Uncle, the triples whose names he couldn't keep straight, several families with their children, the folks in charge of medicine and the ones in charge of the mushroom farms and the hunters and the gatherers and the foragers... Lucien frowned. What in the world could have stirred up the entire Colony so??

Suddenly Pony gasped in shock and grabbed his bicep tightly. "Oh, fuck," she whispered in horror. "Oh, fuck."

Lucien, irked over the whole affair, was about to snap at her until he finally saw what she saw: Castille.

His heart skipped a beat while his senses reeled. Even from the high balcony he could see it was her. His dead fiancé. His dead love. The woman who had tricked him into leaving her behind. Eyes wide and throat dry, Lucien was then running down the makeshift stairs towards the center of the shouting crowd, leaving Pony to follow a few steps behind. His only thought was that it was Castille, that she was alive, that she was here and that everything was-

Shoving and pushing others aside, he found himself standing over her in shock. Breathing hard, he took in the sight of her only to see the damage done. It wasn't Castille at all. It was her body, maybe. Mostly. But that body bore the tell tale marks of conversion. The robots had made an Android of her, one of their prized hunter-killers whose sole purpose was to ferret out other humans and either exterminate or 'recruit' them. It wasn't Castille at all. Lucien felt all the hope that had just risen within his heart get dashed upon the rocky floor of the cavern, his shock fading away to reveal the grief that had never truly healed. His heart felt heavy, too heavy to bear. All the worse was how everyone now stared at him to see his reaction, to see what he might say as to how to proceed next. In the silence, Lucien screwed his eyes tightly shut and turned away.

"Kill it," he muttered with a snarl towards the person holding the pistol. "Carve up the meat for the dogs and let Uncle have whatever's left for The Lab. Then we'll need to seal off the main passage in case it was followed."

Saving Anna

Names and pictures up at least. I'll be working more on it tomorrow. I'm afraid the convention left me far more tired than I thought it might.