"One could argue your entire life is garbage." -my organic chemistry professor
7
likes
7 yrs ago
my life is a sitcom. and not one with very good dialogue
6
likes
8 yrs ago
you people are feeding my problem XD
6
likes
8 yrs ago
I've got this obsession of having all the statuses on my profile page with more than 2 likes. I know that when the wailing winds of darkness come for me, these thumbs up will keep them away!
Erikal Slin's voice rang through the early morning cold, the easily recognizable figure of the division Commander walking in his easy stride along the front lines of the assembled and standing at attention graduates of the hastily created King's Army Academy. Most of the soldiers only barely knew how to drive a mech, much less fight in one--but with any luck, the far more rigorous combat training they'd undergone in boot camp would translate to some amount of competence in a large suit of metal armor.
"You've come a long way since you entered our military, though not as far as I'd like to bring you. You've had the best combat training we could give you, and the best equipment we could muster. You're the best we've got, and I for one would have no one else watching my back."
Commander Slin paused, and shook his head, hoping his grimace wasn't visible. They were all so young... And being given a crash course in the theory of mech design in a quickly appropriated, stuffy classroom was hardly a quality training course... But they didn't have options, they didn't have time. The best he could do was try to send them on non-dangerous missions until they'd gathered some experience, then try them in a more unforgiving furnace.
He raised his voice again. "It is my greatest pleasure to greet you, the newest members of the King's Army. You're dismissed. The job starts tomorrow. For now, have some fun."
He smiled, turned, and walked away.
***
Meanwhile, the head of the King's Mage Corps was giving much the same speech to her own soldiers, though Marjorie Kina spoke with much greater confidence than Slin. True, her soldiers were young, and green--but she'd been training mages her entire life, and she was pretty damn good at it. No, her speech had a focus, alright--mostly telling the mages to keep the mech pilots alive.
If she could instill a rivalry between the two, all the better for their performance.
She dismissed her own troops, giving much the same instruction as Erikal.
"I'm Ha-" Des, his mind finished, though he didn't speak it himself. He still didn't know what that name meant, and it filled him with dread. Why share a fearful secret with a complete stranger, even if he was someone that Hal felt he knew from somewhere else? True, the bearded face and fishing harpoon were accompanied with small sparks of familiarity-but like a feeling of Deja Vu you just can't shake, Hal had no idea where those sparks came from. So he picked the easier question to answer, even if the response itself was more complicated.
"No, I don't know him." That, at least, was the truth. Even if Hal was actually Hal Desmond, he still didn't know himself: the massive gap where his memories should be made sure of that. "At least... I don't think I do. But I woke up in his grave, so... I suppose that's a really roundabout way of saying... You can call me Hal Desmond. Nice to meet you, Ben..."
Osiris. The name held little meaning for Hal, to be true, but some feeling of dread did come from it... And it obviously meant a lot to the German shepherd's owner. When the boy knelt, Hal squatted slightly, looking into Abel's face, searching it for any touch of familiarity, anything that he could recognize. He sighed and shook his head, holding out his hand for Abel to use as support to stand up again. "I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you, Abel. I don't remember myself, nor you. I'm sorry... Maybe we can find some answers someplace."
And a woman now approached. Hal shook his head, his hand still outstretched to Abel. "No... What's happened has happened. You aren't interrupting anything unless you plan to either avenge them or hurt us for purely selfish reasons... Either one will lead to more bloodshed, and I've personally had enough for today."
Us. Interesting. Two total strangers and they were counted as "us". Ben just seemed to be somehow trustworthy, as if Hal had known him for far longer... And there was something in Abel's attitude that inspired some kind of kinship with him, though what it was Hal couldn't tell for the life.. errrrr, death of him.
James' muscles tightened slightly as he heard a voice speaking to him, then relaxed when he saw the plain clothing. Obviously not one of the crowd who were throwing this party, nor one of the gala's more esteemed guests. Ordinary clothes, on a girl almost stubborn in her ordinariness, down to the ever so slight tiredness around her eyes from a life obviously plagued by labor and her self styled hair. "The first," he said, quietly and shortly. If he considered her question rude, he didn't show it--after all, he was a country boy, there was no doubt about that, so being insulted by the "you don't get out much" wasn't too easy to be.
Realizing that he should probably give the girl more to work on, if she wanted to continue making small talk--which she undoubtedly did, there wasn't that much else to be done--James looked for something else to say. To be honest, he didn't have many comments to make about their surroundings. The lavishness and wealth the ballroom embodied was impressive, no bones about it... But to be honest, it somewhat irked him. The decorations didn't seem to be for any purpose other than intimidation.
"Do you know why we're here, Miss... I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
A bedroom, dark, warm… Soft, silent. In the midst, a bed, all of the blankets pulled into a roughly circular shape, around a mess of pajamas and scarlet hair, curled into a ball. Breathing in, breathing out, chest rising and falling, slowly, peacefully…
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Purplish eyes opened, long low breath, hand reaching out first for two familiar warm shapes… Failing that, hitting the alarm, the beeping finally stopping. A sigh, the mess sitting up and resolving into a woman, long crimson hair falling down around her shoulders as she rubbed her eyes and yawned, long rusty feathers sticking up in every direction. She scratched the back of her neck, listening carefully—no, no crying, no happy gurgles, just silence.
Lily must have already been taken to the nursery. That made things simpler. No tiptoeing, no saying goodbyes over and over until the infant was finally satisfied, no holding the little ball of energy and sound and petting her mess of white hair and downy feathers until she settled down enough to be left. Normally, Amy was more than happy to distract herself with her child rather than report to Beacon early, but… Mission days were different. She needed to be focused, to be on the top of her game… And thinking about how great it felt to hold Lily or cuddle with her family was distracting. She popped her neck, limping her way to the bathroom, turning a light on and washing her face, glancing at it in the mirror. The first few lines were starting to show around her eyes, partially age and partially the lack of sleep due to being a recent mother.
Between Lily and her leg… Maybe it was time for her to think about retiring from being a Huntress…
Not that old yet, Desire. She smirked and shook her head, stepping back into the bedroom proper and pulling some pants out of the dresser and onto her legs, then doing the same with a white shirt. No cutoffs or tank tops today—they were going into the depths of the wilds. She snagged her keys out of a bowl next to the door and a leather jacket off a hook as she went out. It really was a good thing Lily wasn’t around… Today, especially, she couldn’t afford to be off her focus.
***
The airship whirred low over the wilds, heading toward the center of an accumulating mass of Grimm. Amy’s eyes were focused on the ground, but her mind was already elsewhere. She was angry, and while she knew the emotion was clouding her senses, she wasn’t going to be able to clear it from her mind until she’d yelled at the mission organizer back home. A risky mission, diving far into the depths of the wilderness toward Lord knows what… Naturally, they’d sent a few other Hunters with her. Her problem wasn’t with that—no, her limp would forever knock the proud streak out of her, no matter the accolades she might receive—but with her team selection. Beryl Harken, Luke Schwarz, her old captain Benjamin Lloyd... An ace squad, to be sure, especially with their final member… And therein lied the problem.
What kind of FOOL was that dispatcher, sending two parents on the same mission?! She shook her head, trying to dislodge her anger and refocus on the objective, then she could go back home. At least that explained the absence of her partner that morning. Objective—and mission plan—were relatively simple, she supposed. A large congregation of Grimm was forming in the wilds. The other four would drop in and begin making their way to the supposed target, taking advantage of the stereotypical four person team to appear to be the full ensemble. Meanwhile, Amy would route through the trees, benefiting from the way her semblance and bones had developed to dash along the canopy and get to the objective with all possible speed, to relay back to the rest of the team what exactly was going on.
***
For a manic dash through the treetops of a hostile jungle, Amy’s run was relatively uneventful. The Grimm seemed more than happy to attack the quartet dropped before. And why wouldn’t they? Between Beryl’s tidal wave and her lover’s theatrics, they were obviously the larger threat—and the more persistent one, Luke’s insane regeneration and Ben’s physical prowess letting them come back from attack after attack.
By contrast, Amy moved like a thief, albeit at rapid speed, her semblance allowing her to react and route around oncoming Grimm faster than they could possibly see her. All the while, she drew closer and closer to the supposed location of their objective—what seemed to be a rocky outcropping rising above the jungle, surrounded by a ring of Grimm but with none on it. With a final burst of speed, she leapt into the rocks, landing adeptly—despite the leg—and pulling herself into cover. A short climb later and she was hiding behind a rock close to the apex, a plateau seemingly deserted. Deserted except for two figures, an abnormally large Bael (odd enough that it was out during the day) and a human man, standing close to the massive Grimm, the creature seeming almost to bow to him, then shuffle off into the jungle. The man smiled, then turned, looking exactly where Amy was crouching.
“Oh, it’s the lame duck. Come on out, Amaranth Desire. I know you’re there.” With a tug, Amy felt her legs moving on their own, seeming to blindly follow the command of the man, walking out of cover and into the center of the plateau—and then, with a sinking feeling, she realized who he was, and why her legs felt no longer under her control. Thomas Tanner, a Hunter who had disappeared on a Hunt three months before, with the power to—to control, through names. His smirk, a sinister expression that intensified as Amy walked toward him, the control over her actions not considering her limp, causing her to stumble several times. His own stride was light and joyful as he happily ambled over to the frozen Huntress, his fingers gently caressing her cheek, Amy’s mind desperately fighting to lift her arm and launch the Fury into his smarmy gut.
“Do you like my army, Miss—sorry, Mrs. Desire? Mindless, obedient… Oh, but I seem to be having some small troubles with it. Four of them, to be precise.” His arm slipped around her waist, his other hand pointing to the flurry of battle where her team was… And an approaching herd of behemoths, on its normal wander around the borders of the four Kingdoms. “It’s no matter, the Goliath can take care of them.” Her side twitched as he touched her, trying to move away from him, one—the largest, actually—of the massive beasts peeling away from the herd and starting on its way toward the conflict. “Doing business with the Grimm is too easy. Oh, but we have business of our own, don’t we?”
Thomas pulled a spear off of his back, stepping away from Amy. The tip started to crackle with electricity, a swift strike coming for Amy’s side. She tried to react, jerk away, even just activate her aura—and only managed a twitch as a flame Dust cartridge exploded in the end, slamming the staff into her left arm, a sickening crack coming from her forearm and electricity surging through her. He pulled it back again, aiming a swing for her bad leg’s shin, another burst of fire, another crack, Amy fell to her knees. The spear pulled back again, Amy mentally flinching.
“So soon on your knees, Amaranth Desire?” Thomas tsked. “Some much for an ace huntress. Might as well end this quickly. I’d hoped it’d be amusing. Your infant daughter could do better than this. What’s her name? Lily Desire? Might have to test my theory… Or she might be a better candidate for my eventual successor. Daughter of Beacon’s dark ace, groomed for command…”
Lily…
“You. Won’t. Touch her.” The right arm of the Fury planted itself in the ground, its namesake brewing in her stomach. Amy struggled to her feet and back to control of her body, Thomas’ focus fading as the first sign of fear showed in his eyes, his spear lancing out again, stabbing Amy in the chest—but it was too late, the Fury’s trigger already pulled, its tip hurtling through space, right between two brown eyes.
Amy fell backward.
Far away, a Goliath faltered… And returned to the herd.
***
A hospital room, bright, cold… Sterile, sinister. In the midst, a bed, all of the tubes attached to a battered and broken shape. Breathing in, breathing out, chest rising and falling, raggedly, painfully.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Purple eyes opened, slightly faster breath, broken hand twitching at her side. The beeping resolved itself into a heart monitor at her side, another sound starting the instant she opened her eyes, the cause of her awakening. She licked her dry lips. Crying, coming in short, high pitched bursts, a sound she could recognize anywhere—and the battle came flooding back, how bad her injuries were, Luke stooping over her, cutting his arm open and doing his best to patch, not knowing the scars were too deep, the wound too bad—another whimper and she was back to reality. “Lily,” she whispered, her voice cracking as a spasm of pain wracked her, spiraling through her side, through her damaged lungs. A shuffle of movement from the corner of her eye, farther than she could see, and familiar fingers gripped her non-broken hand, a soft voice coming from close to her ear.
“She’s here, lover. We both are.” Amy’s hand tightened around the digits, eyes looking pleadingly up at the face that had just drifted into her line of sight. “L-Let me—hold her,” she wheezed out, feeling larger spikes of pain in her side, her lips suddenly feeling wet—wetness revealed to be a dark, crimson stain when her lover dabbed it away from her mouth. Amy’s muscles started trembling, her breathing coming in pained gasps—
“The doctor said you—“
“Please.” Amy burst into another coughing fit, feeling a familiar warm bundle put into the valley formed between her broken body and good arm. For once, Lily didn’t struggle—the infant’s familiar soft down barely moved an inch against Amy’s skin, the only sign of her presence the baby’s slight, fearful tremors. Dampness started to form at the corner of her eyes as her arm squeezed Lily closer against her, savoring the last few instants she’d get to hold—
A face started to near hers, and Amy shook her head. “D-don’t kiss me. I don’t… I don’t want your last mem-memory of me to be the taste of blood. T-take care of Lily.”
“You’ll be fine—“ the soft voice started, Lily starting to sniffle more.
“No, I won’t. T-take care of Lily. Th-thank Luke for buying me enough time to see you again.”
Her fingers tightened around the hand, pulling her arm in closer to squeeze Lily as she started coughing again, her muscles spasming worse. She pulled herself up enough to kiss the cheek so close to hers and look down at the mass of fluffy white in her arms, then collapsed back onto the bed, wheezing, then singing a soft lullaby weakly as Lily started to cry.
”Three little birds Pitch by my doorstep Singin' sweet songs Of melodies pure and true. Singing' don't worry 'bout a thing, 'Cause every little thing’s gonna be alright."
There was silence as Amy finished, Lily stopping her crying, the only sound the rustle of blankets from a strong enough shudder to make Amy’s grip turn vice-like. Softly, Amy whispered “I love you both. D-don’t let her forget.”
One last rattling breath, then a silence broken only by a chick crying for its mother.
1995, as far as I can tell.
Credits: Silvan, Snow, and Krayzikk for giving me permission to use their characters and granting information on upgrades they intended. The internet, for all the information on birds I've used. Bob Marley, for the lyrics to "Three Little Birds", and Norah Jones for Come Away With Me. An unknown player, for Amy's lover.
Amaranth Desire, Brewing Storm: Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping...
About to respond to Lucas, Amy suddenly paused and held up her hand, ears straining-- A clatter as the Fury's left arm fanned out into a shield, Amy's feathers standing up slightly as she faced the environment around them. She hadn't released her weapon yet, no, and her voice was calm when she spoke even as her eyes searched for any sign of movement from their surroundings.
"Uh, Cap? I know you're busy with the door and all, but there's some kinda thumping coming from... A lot of places around here. Very quiet thumping."
Just then, the "phone" started buzzing. "Are you going to answer?"
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Forsythe
Krein