Scrawls and Scribblings

Still Here

2012-02-03T00:29:00.001-08:00

Sim Haven Monthly Challenge, February 2012
Write a short story involving a conflicted love

Title: "Still Here"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Rated: PG-13
Word count: Approx. 1126
Warnings: Exposition, death, familial tension, racism, domestic abuse, mention of rape

Author's Note: This falls into the canon of my on-going story The Kingdom of Naroni, but you do NOT need to have read that in order to understand the piece. This piece takes place almost ten years after the start of the story, about thirteen years before the current point. It centers around a character who was introduced rather recently as a young adult and is therefore part of another "branch" of this fictional universe.

September 18, 1164
Lugo, Galicia

Little siblings never lived long.

Nicolao had lasted the longest. He'd been five and a half when that mad dog had done him in. He and Felipa and Lisandro had all died within the same year; Lisandro hadn't been around a week before they'd put him in the ground.

Rubén had died first. He'd been dead for so long that only Isidro and Nicolao had known him at all and Isidro barely remembered him now. He wasn't even sure how Rubén had died. He just knew that he had.

He remembered Adelita, though. Adelita had been the last to die, not even a year ago now--a little three-month-old baby who had one day decided never to take from their mother's breast again. A few times during her last couple days, Isidro had tried to sustain her with goat's milk--he recalled one of the old nannies saying that he'd survived on that when his mother had refused to feed him--but Adelita wouldn't take that either. The crypt at Sir Domingo's manor housed one more tiny grave.

It wouldn't be the last.

Isidro knew better than to ask his mother if Sarita was going to die. He'd asked her with Lisandro, but that only made her cry. His mother cried a lot, even though his father hit her when she did. Isidro got hit when he cried too... at least, he used to. He didn't cry anymore.

In her crib, Sarita stirred, a weak cooing sound breaking through her dry lips. Her toy rabbit had been flung to the floor some time in the night; Isidro picked it up and laid it beside her. "Here, Sari." Her eyelids fluttered in some basic form of appreciation. It was nice of her, but she needn't have bothered. She had to save her strength. Granted, even that wouldn't do much.

Behind him, their mother choked back a sob. Isidro turned away from Sarita and looked back at her seat on the bench. "Mama?"

His mother was so pretty--even in her nightgown, even with her hair unwashed and tangled, even with that ugly bruise around her eye. Even in her grief. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen her smile but he suspected there had never been a first. "Mama?"

"Oh, Sari." His mother's elbow slipped further down her leg, the rest of her slumping in accordance. He recalled the string puppet he'd been using to entertain Felipa hours before her death. He'd dropped it when she started seizing. It had fallen and folded into itself just like his mother had now. "She... she's the last of them. All my babies are dead."

She let out another wail as Isidro glanced down at the toes of his boots. They were a little tight and there was a hole growing on the inner side of the left, but no one had said anything. No one had noticed. "I'm still here, Mama."

She only sniffled, not even looking up, and his stomach-bound heart sank a little further. He'd been feeling a little sick himself the past few days. His older half-brother had been busy picking up their father's slack, but his cousin Augustin had called, so Isidro had asked him if anyone would take care of his mother if he died too.

Cousin Augustin had laughed in his face. "Don't you get it, kid? She'd be happy if you died."

"Nuh-uh!" he'd insisted. "She was sad for all the others!" All the others, and everything else.

His cousin just rolled his eyes and gave him a patronizing pat on the head. "She won't be sad for you because you're her rape baby. Do you know what rape is?" He hadn't, so he'd shaken his head. "Well, you know what sex is, right?" He'd nodded. "Rape is when a woman doesn't want to have sex, but a man makes her do it anyway. That's how you were made, and that's why your parents don't like you."

"My mother likes me." He'd known his father didn't, but his father liked almost nobody. But his mother liked him... didn't she?

Augustin had shrugged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. But if she'd never had you, her father never would have found out and he never would have made her marry your father, and she'd be down south making dark-skinned babies with someone of her own kind. And your father would've married a good Christian woman instead of some Muslim slut. And they never would have lost all those kids because they never would have had them in the first place."

Isidro hadn't told anyone about that conversation. Why would he? He didn't want to talk about it, and even if he did there wasn't anyone who'd listen. And even if there was... what if they didn't gasp and hug him and tell him it wasn't true? What if they agreed with Augustin? What if Augustin was right?

"Mama? Mama, I'm still here."

"What?" She looked up at him and blinked, wincing beneath the sting of her swollen eyelids. "Oh, yes. Yes, of course."

Her voice was low and rushed, like she barely knew what she was saying. He'd give it to her, though. She probably hadn't slept since Sarita had fallen ill.

He stepped to the side and joined her on the bench. Sarita seemed to have steadied for the moment, her breath still raspy but at least consistent. Still, their mother wouldn't look away and he couldn't bring himself to blame her. He'd still be here, after all.

"Oh, my sweet little Sari." His mother wiped another tear from her puffy eye. "Just a baby, really. Why do they keep dying on me? None of them lived past five."

Isidro's fingers curled around the edge of the bench. "I'm eight, Mama."

He wished he was bigger so he could protect her, so he could have done more for his siblings. He wished he was smaller so he could have told himself she hadn't forgotten him. Augustin's voice in his ear again, he wished he'd never existed at all.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

Isidro froze as his mother pushed back a lock of his hair to examine his brow. He swallowed. He wasn't usually so careless when it came to hiding bruises. "I..."

What was the point? She knew what had happened and she had enough to worry about. He didn't need to explain so much as he needed to distract her, if only for a minute; he shuffled toward her, snuggled up against her and snickered. "You should see the other man."

He thought he heard a ghost of a chuckle, but when he let himself look up he saw no trace of a smile. Somehow, he knew he never would.

Orbis Umbra: "The Old Girl"

2012-02-01T23:21:00.004-08:00

Title: "The Old Girl"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Informed"

December 23, 3714

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da da...

"Gitchi gitchi ya ya here... mocca chocolata ya--"

Br-RING!

Everard Lox groaned. That damn telephone always caught him just before the big finish. Why did he even have a telephone in the bathroom anyway? Oh, right--it would have been ridiculous not to. Still, talk about a necessary evil. If that's Mother again I'm going to...

Wait. Maybe it was Naiara. That was a pretty voice he wouldn't mind missing his own for, even if she was only calling to flat-out refuse the suggested bikini uniform. Oh well, worth a shot.

Mindful of the telescope, he indulged himself in the mental image as he made his way to the ringing phone. Like he hadn't indulged himself only half an hour prior. Indulged himself thoroughly. "Well hello, pretty lady!"

"Um... Mr. Lox?"

That wasn't Naiara's voice. How he managed to keep the phone in hand, he'd never remember. "...Mrs. Boote?!"

"Get a hold of yourself, Mr. Lox; I'm not calling for chitchat." Yep--that was Boote all right. Yeesh. He'd need an army of bikini-clad Naiaras to recover from that slip, he was sure of it. "Something's come up and I think you should have the information."

An old Temple hag like Boote wanting to share information? Huh. Maybe religion had eased up a bit since he'd dumped it. "Why do you say that?"

On the other end, the old girl sighed. "It concerns your niece, Mr. Lox."

Orbis Umbra: "The Informed"

2012-01-19T00:11:00.001-08:00

Title: "The Informed"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Reputed"

December 23, 3714

Upon first glance she'd feared it was that awful Mr. Scorpio again--same age, same build, even the same hairstyle for heaven's sake--but when she sat down she was met by the sight of a different face, a softer face, a face bespectacled practically rather than with those ridiculous sunglasses. She cursed herself for not figuring it out sooner; Mr. Scorpio wouldn't have been caught dead in something so sensible as a sweater. "Yes?"

The young man fiddled with something in his pocket. "You're Mrs. Boote, right?"

She glowered. Relieved as she was by his sheer lack of Scorpio, it was far too early to be dealing with such stupid questions. "If you asked for Mrs. Boote, and then Amelie sent me... what do you think?"

"Right. Sorry." Nervous and a little awkward, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and passed her what he'd been carrying--a note. "Have you ever met someone who could practically will you to do their bidding?"

Mrs. Boote sniffed. In all honesty, she liked to think she was that person, but that stubborn Council had been doing nothing for her pride. "I can't say that I have."

"Well... I ran into this girl on the bus last night. She said she was a former student of yours." The young man's eyes flickered to the ceiling, an odd sort of smile on his face. She knew that smile. She couldn't quite say she approved. "I knew her for all of five minutes and she had me standing guard while she broke into a Temple library. And then she asked me to come all the way out here to give you this note, even though I'm supposed to be at my grandparents' place in Ireland by now."

Frowning, Mrs. Boote glanced down at the note. Sure enough, her name was on the front, the letters light and slanted with a near clinical consistency. It was Ursula Knepp's writing. What had she been doing, breaking into a Temple library? "Well, I trust I'll appreciate your efforts. I doubt Miss Knepp would bother me if I didn't need to be informed."

"Right." The boy planted his hands to his thighs and pushed himself off the couch. "Well... nice meeting you. Have a good Christmas."

Mrs. Boote stiffened. She didn't want to be too rude, but it was difficult to pry her eye from the note. And to think--she hadn't started reading it yet. "Likewise."

Next post: "The Old Girl"

Season's Greetings from Florian

2011-12-25T14:16:00.000-08:00

Sim Haven Monthly Challenge, December 2011
Write a holiday card/letter/postcard from one character to another.

Title: Season's Greetings from Florian
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Rated: PG-13 (just in case)
Word count: Approx. 385
Summary: Florian sends his boss a Christmas letter.
Warnings: Silliness, shameless anachronisms, dude being a perv

Author's Note: This is a NON-canon piece involving characters from my series The Kingdom of Naroni. You do NOT have to have read that in order to understand this piece.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Dear ~~Oscar~~ ~~Otto~~ ~~Oliver~~ The Baron,

Guess all these piña coladas have chased your first name right out of my memory. Oh well. Anyway, Thetis and I are having one hell of a time on our tropical vacation. You know, the tropical vacation we've been planning for months? The one I absolutely remembered to get time off for? Time off that you definitely gave me? Great!

But seriously, this place is the best. Hot sun, pretty fish, all the alcohol you can drink... and the girls! My God. Yesterday I spent six hours trying to climb a palm tree just to get a view of the private, women-only nude beach. Worth it. Too bad I didn't think to invite your wife; she would have been right at home there, what with those magnificent coconuts and all. Speaking of coconuts, guess what I got her for a souvenir?

(By the way, I got you a t-shirt. Thing is, though... well, I kinda got drunk and threw up on the bathroom floor and it just happened to be in arm's reach, so... thought that counts, right? Tell you what. The funny pink drink I've got right now came with a little umbrella; you can have that. Actually... nah, come to think of it, my sock drawer could use a bit of sprucing up. Maybe I'll just get you a keychain with your name on it. It's Orson, right? Excellent!)

Anyway, I'm about ten minutes away from a complimentary back massage, so I'd better wrap this up. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, and all that other stuff. Hope everything's going well back in snowy Naroni. I hear some people are doubling up their winter coats this year. Is that true? Damn, did we pick the right year to get away!

Your dedicated, long-time, much-deserving-of-a-raise (hint!) steward,
Florian

P.S. Er... this is a little embarrassing, but it occurs to me just now that we forgot to get someone to watch the children. Do you think you could send your son and daughter-in-law over to my place? I mean, it's not like they have any kids of their own to worry about. What's up with that, anyway? I mean... you've seen your daughter-in-law, right? Maybe tell your son to get some of that stuff Old Hilla whips up. Worked wonders for some fellow down at the inn.

Temporary OU Hiatus

2011-11-07T11:35:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone.

So. As implied by a recent post on my blog, I'm going to have to put Orbis Umbra on hiatus for a bit. I'm not planning on cancelling it, but long story short... well, I am a "plotter" and OU was my big attempt at a "pantser" story. For some people, "pantsing" turns out absolutely brilliant work (see Ruin or Lothere, for example), but for me apparently it just gives me more threads than I know what to do with.

So, while I do have a sense of where OU is ultimately headed, I really do need to sit down and figure out how all the storylines connect, and the more posts I add before doing this the more difficult it'll be. I'm not sure when I'll get the time to sort everything out--hopefully sometime this month, but it may have to wait until December--but rest assured that the story will be back as soon as everything makes sense.

Until then, expect an extra Naroni every Wednesday.

Thanks for bearing with me and all my crazy scheduling shifts lately.

The Brother-in-Law

2011-10-26T23:56:00.000-07:00

Sim Haven Monthly Challenge, October 2011
Rewrite an old piece of work with the gender and biological sex of all characters switched

Title: "The Brother-in-Law"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Rated: PG-13 (just in case)
Word count: Approx. 1764
Warnings: Language, unwarranted sexual contact

Author's Note: The original post can be found here.

December 31, 1158

Lady Veldora liked to think of herself as a reasonable person, if not downright lenient. If her children had a few too many sweets on occasion, that was fine. If a servant showed up late on occasion, it wasn't the end of the world. If she was taking audiences for her husband and one of the peasants came to plea for a little more time to get his taxes together, then--if provided with sufficient reason and believable proof of such--she had no qualms about granting it. In fact, if there was a single aspect of her for which society had any respect, it was her agreeability; if one wanted to find her breaking point, he had to push pretty damn hard.

Not to say that there was nobody up to the challenge. "He didn't."

From the bed--now covered by a sickly mustard blanket unfit to be a vomit rag, never mind bedding--her husband sighed. "He did."

"Shit." She practically spat the curse, her eyes following its imagined path to the floor, a floor that now seemed to be made up of ceiling tiles. What had been wrong with her reliable old hardwood? Nothing! "God damn fucking shit."

"Dear Lord, woman--didn't your mother ever teach you not to curse?"

So the crook had yet to leave the scene of the crime. Hell, her brother-in-law must have been in plain sight since she'd walked through the door. She might have felt stupid for missing him had the fact that someone so thoroughly conspicuous been overshadowed by the room's newly-added horrors not served to justify her annoyance. "Ah, never mind. My apologies, Severa; I've just remembered who your mother is. I don't doubt you learned such language from her?"

His eyes sparkled smugly. He probably would have asked what else she'd learned from her mother if Alin hadn't been in the room. Like she didn't put up with that sort of garbage enough. "Larlit, what did you do to my bedroom?"

"My brother's bedroom," Larlit stressed as he stepped toward her. Alin cringed; Severa threw the idea of false pleasantries to the side and scowled. "And to answer your question, dear sister, I shan't have my baby brother sleeping in a bedroom hardly worthy of a steward; Lord Veldora's chambers require a certain masculine charm."

He flashed her that insufferable smile that never failed to set her nerves aflame. Masculine charm. Like Larlit would know masculine charm if it got on its knees and started sucking his cock. "Look, Alin and I decorated this room together. Same with the dining room, for that matter--and the sitting room, and the study, and the banquet hall. If we'd wanted your input, we would have written you years ago."

"Severa, love--trust me, you needed it." Larlit's head tilted to the side as he wagged his finger at her, like she was some child who couldn't remember her multiplication tables. "Just face the facts. You're a scrawny so-called lady who seems perfectly content to go about looking like you've never seen a comb, and Alin? He married you. Clearly neither of you have a shred of taste."

"No taste? This from a man who thought to put this... this..."

It was certainly a 'this'. A large 'this'. The presence of the oversized canopy shrunk the entire room in comparison. "Why the hell would you think we need this? Masculine charm?"

"Oh, this?" Her brother-in-law's glance landed on the canopy. Any more fondness in those eyes and he might have been fucking the damn thing. "Well, I suppose I can't expect you to understand given your paternity, but when one has money and status, one should have a few things to show for it. It's a prize."

"It's an excess." Severa crossed her arms and glowered. Her death glares were normally reserved for the queen, but Larlit was as fitting an exception as any. "Not unlike yourself, for that matter. Are you ever planning on going home?"

She looked to Alin for support, but all he gave was a roll of the eyes that begged her not to bother. But why shouldn't she? He wanted to be rid of Larlit almost as much as she did and they both knew it--and clearly, he hadn't been able to drive his brother away himself. Granted, Larlit made that difficult. Just one more hasty reminder of "Ah, but you don't know the pain of being a widower!" and that was it.

Well, he had been here for months. "Pain" her ass.

"Home?" He laughed--like he hadn't outstayed his welcome the minute he'd arrived. "Oh, you silly little darling. My presence here is for your benefit; it's high time you learned how to be a proper hostess, and for that you need a willing vict--guest."

"Larlit, that's the most idiotic excuse I've ever heard."

He only snapped his fingers in triumph. "Ah, my point exactly. See, Alin? See how she insults her guests?"

"Actually, the only guest she insults is you," Alin muttered under his breath.

Larlit didn't seem to have heard him--selectively, no doubt. "Severa. Honey. I know it must be difficult for you--duchess's bastard, half pagan, thrust into a high station you clearly weren't bred for--but there are certain gentilities that are expected of a lady. Required, even. And you know what? When you married my brother, you became my sister, and I won't let it be said that my sister is unfit for her station--no matter how true that may be. I'm not your enemy, Severa. See... I even got you a present."

He gestured toward Severa's night-table. Her books and candles were gone, replaced by what appeared to be a stand for sewing patterns. There were even a few pieces of parchment on it. She wanted nothing more than to smash the damn thing over his stupid head. "I hate sewing."

"Of course you do." He winked at her, then gave her a quick pat on the arm. Even through the velvet of her sleeve his hand felt greasy. "Anyway, I'm sorry about your bookshelf, but it had to be removed in order to make room for the statue."

Severa raised an eyebrow. "The what?"

Sure enough, there was a marble monstrosity of a thing beside the fireplace. Larlit probably did like his women mute and stone-cold.

"Again, my apologies, but my baby brother needs at least one shapely woman in his chambers." Without warning, his hand grazed her thigh. That was it. She shoved his arm aside and slapped him across the face. He only laughed. "Oh, you! All I'm offering is constructive criticism. Honestly, you could be so pretty if only you stopped wearing such drab gowns and brushed your hair every once in a while. Oh, and if you put some meat on those bones; maybe it's about time you had another child."

And with that, he brushed past her and slipped out of the room. She would have been happy to see him go had she not missed the opportunity to knee him in the crotch. "Good riddance." Shithead. Seething, she stormed to the other side of the bed and sat down next to her husband. "You could have jumped in at any time, you know."

"And interrupt a showdown between you and your arch-nemesis? You never would have forgiven me and you know it."

"Don't be stupid. You know the only thing I can't forgive you is letting him stay for so long. Why haven't you kicked him out yet?"

Alin sighed. These days, he sighed a lot. "It's not for lack of trying, believe me."

Not that it was particularly hard to believe that. "Why is he even here? For God's sake, the man has a shire to run back in Dovia--and not to mention, two little girls who just lost their mother."

"Oh, but didn't you get that note? It's all too damn hard for a widower." Alin rolled his eyes. God, Severa hoped he didn't end up like that whenever she died. "Let's face it. The only way we're ever going to be rid of him is if we find him a wife."

"So why don't we?"

Her husband blinked. "You know... that's a good question. Do you have someone in mind? I can't imagine he'd marry just anyone."

"Oh, no doubt." Privately, she thought it was more an issue of not just anyone being willing to marry Larlit than the other way around, but it wasn't an invalid concern. "Maybe we'll get lucky and have an influx of foreign princess soon."

Alin chuckled. "Shapely princesses."

"Stupid princesses."

"Wealthy, well-bred princesses."

"Who know how to entertain guests."

God. This list was exhausting already. "Do you think anyone that specific exists within our vicinity?"

Alin shrugged. "Odds-wise? I couldn't guess. You're much better with numbers."

"Indeed--and they're not nearly high enough for my liking." Just as the odds of having such a brother-in-law in the first place weren't nearly so low. "Your brother is an ass."

"I know."

"And not nearly as pretty as you." She tapped him on the nose and giggled. "Especially when you smile."

He gave her a half-hearted grin and it nearly broke her heart. Why was he always so melancholy? If there was one thing Larlit was good for, it was as an explanation for Alin's gloom. "Alin..."

"Mmm?"

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

If look on his face had anything to do with it, then No. "Don't mind me. I'm just... feeling the stress of my brother."

As if that was all. Put she only pouted and turned away. "You and me both."

They were silent for a few minutes--a few tense, agonizing minutes. God, she'd loved him for so long. Why couldn't he just let her in?

Frustrated, Severa tried to pass the time by going over the criteria for Larlit's new wife in her head. Wealthy, well-bred, pretty, dim... wealthy, well-bred, pretty, dim...

"My lord? My lady?"

Thank God for the knock at the door. "Come in."

It was her maid, Falida--clearly just as stunned at the stark changes to the room as she herself had been. "That explains why all the men were hauling out your old furniture. I'll tell my brother to look into where they've taken it."

Severa grimaced. "Please do."

"Of course. Anyway, there was a messenger here just now. My lady, the queen is throwing a feast tomorrow and she was wondering if..."

Wealthy... well-bred... pretty... dim...

"The queen, you say?"

Orbis Umbra: "The Reputed"

2011-10-19T18:29:00.001-07:00

Title: "The Reputed"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Grounded"

December 22, 3714

For all she loathed the Temple, she'd always imagined their libraries to be spectacular--particularly their restricted libraries, open only to select officials if not exclusively the Council itself--but this one was a disappointment. Four rows of shelves, plus one lined wall on the far side of the room; that was it.

Not even a lousy chair.

I suppose they think it's the reputation that counts.

A good hour of searching and nothing. Had it even been worth the hair dye and the extensions and babysitter's fee? She'd yet to find anything that was even interesting--much less, useful.

And that poor sucker from the bus she'd roped into keeping watch. She owed him a date now. Oh well, at least he was sort of cute. Still--the principle of the thing!

She scanned the titles on the spines once again, even though she'd already checked this shelf--like every other shelf. Nothing, nothing, zero, nada, zilch.

Fucking pointless. She turned her back on the row of books and stormed toward the shelves along the wall, the only ones still due for a double-check. It was getting late and the most direct bus didn't run past ten. The sitter's fee increased after midnight and Em wouldn't be home until three or four in the morning. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. Half past nine.

Shit.

She lifted her glasses and combed through the books, desperate for some sign of anything half-relevant. One book seated on the middle shelf was titled in some language she didn't know--not exactly helpful. But who knew? Maybe if she took it, she could find someone who could translate.

It was probably the only shot in her. She placed her finger at the top of the spine and tilted it back...

What the...?

...well.

Next chapter: "The Informed"

Orbis Umbra: "The Grounded"

2011-10-05T16:03:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Grounded"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Representative"

December 19, 3714

"What's an Ajna?"

Funny. Aurora had spent the whole day recovering from the whole time travel ordeal and now that he'd finally caught her awake--of all the questions she must have had, all the questions he could have possibly answered--she was asking him about her mother. So much for one thing at a time. Anyway, what could he tell her?

"That's... not really my area of expertise."

"But you do know."

Scorpio sighed. Could he really lie to her? Didn't a person have a right to know where they came from? At least, that's what he told himself--not that it did any good. "Yes, but not well enough to explain it in a way that does it justice. You'd be better served talking to Mrs. Boote."

"Like she'd tell me." Aurora picked at the bed of one her fingernails, a fleck of old skin falling to the translucent gossamer of her nightgown. Night had fallen but the bright lights of Lox's perimeter shone like suburbia starlight, bouncing off every curve of her body, piercing the veil of her garb. She was celestial, Raphaelite, and he didn't feel right about keeping her in the dark. Why couldn't she have asked any other time? Earlier, when the sun had ruled the realm of luminescence and heavy skirts and blouses had fought it back? He could have refused her then.

But what was he thinking? He shouldn't have even been looking at her. She was just some stupid little kid.

"One of your classmates, then. Miss Knepp would know."

"Ursula?" The name was almost a laugh--a bitter one. "We don't exactly get along. How do you know her, anyway?"

"We have a few mutual acquaintances." He almost expected her to inquire further, but she never did. Good. Like she knew any of them--Thekla or Em or that girl he'd fucked in France who'd turned out to be Lisbeth. Like she wanted to know any of them. She was better off.

Ah, but what did it matter to him? Annoyed with himself, Scorpio slid off the bed and strode toward the balcony's arch. Lox's barriers kept the heat in, but he'd turned off the sphere for the night, letting the newborn snowflakes settle in specks throughout the estate. Beautiful night, really. Maybe that was why his mind had gone.

"Scorpio?"

For his own sake, he didn't turn around. He heard a rustling of blankets as she shuffled to his side. "Yes?"

"Are you displaced?"

Well. At least it was a relevant question. "From too much time travel, you mean?"

"That's what you meant, isn't it?"

She'd certainly been due for a clever thought. Maybe he'd been too hard on her The hustle and bustle of a life reorganized was a strain, after all. Not many people knew that better than he did. "Correct."

"So... are you?"

It was not a question he cared to ponder, but at least it was one he could answer--sort of. There were certain things he preferred to keep to himself. "I'll tell you right now that I met your uncle several years ago; for mystery's sake, I'll let you speculate as to the exact number."

She frowned. "That's an odd thing to say."

"I'm an odd sort of man." He didn't hear an argument. That was okay. She was so ordinary that she was a little odd herself. "I'm leaving for the continent tomorrow morning--running an errand for your uncle."

Aurora closed her eyes and drew back a few steps, closer to the edge of the bed; without much consideration, he followed. "How long will that take?"

"A couple weeks--maybe a month at most." It hadn't seemed like such a long time until he'd said it. "I just thought I'd let you know that someone else would be taking you back to school."

"And that you won't be around for Christmas."

Christmas. Always such a forgettable thing. "I suppose that too."

Sniffing, Aurora brushed something off her shoulder, the fabric dragging along after her touch and leaving a bit of her shoulder exposed. Scorpio made a point not to look. "Just as well. You'd probably ruin it anyway."

"Exactly." Finally--an intelligent word out of his own mouth. He'd always been so grounded before and he was starting to lose that. He probably needed this trip. "Best wishes to you, Miss Verchoux."

He took her hand and pressed a swift kiss to her knuckles, then let it fall back to her side as he crossed to the door and left the room. The door had been shut before he could have heard a reply.

Next chapter: "The Reputed"

Sort of Friends

2011-09-24T23:20:00.000-07:00

Sim Haven Monthly Challenge, September 2011
Write a short story based on the prompt "First Kiss"

Title: "Sort of Friends"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Rated: PG-13 (just in case)
Word count: Approx. 1199
Warnings: Some language, family angst, rather ADD focus

Author's Note: This piece falls into the extended canon of my current SimFic50, Realmspeaker. You do not have to read the story in order to understand this piece.

Why do so many guys in my prelude pieces have the same hairstyle? It's not like I don't have a million others to choose from...

November 3, 2052
Ashfall Public High School, Ashfall, New York

Lucia had thought she'd entered quietly, maybe even dodged the range of the mirror, but her target must have been on high alert. Uneven bottle-black hair flopped forth from behind studded ears and a flick of a cigarette shot a clump of ash to the floor. "Wrong washroom, Kyles."

Like hell it was. Lucia turned the lock on the door and approached with caution. She'd known Farrel for a few years and she guessed they were sort of friends--well, as close to friends as Farrel ever got--but his volatile nature required a certain amount of discretion when dealing with him. "The principal sent me to find you."

"Did she?" He took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled to the side; she had to cough, but at least he'd had the courtesy not to blow the smoke right into her face. "Well, if she and her flunkies are dumb enough to let me escape from the office in the first place, I don't see why I should go back."

It wasn't a completely invalid excuse. Someone should've been keeping an eye on him. Not that it was a surprise; no one ever did keep an eye on Farrel, or at least not long enough to prevent him from doing something reckless. A little unsure of herself, Lucia dug the toe of her shoe into the grout between the floor tiles. "Your parents are here."

Farrel shrugged. "So? Not like either of them give a shit."

"You punched a teacher."

"I punched a cop once. They didn't care then and they won't care now." Scowling, he glanced back at the mirror and looked himself over for a minute before turning back to Lucia. She vaguely wondered why he'd looked so much angrier when faced with his reflection. "Just watch. Isadora will just shake her head, maybe sigh if I'm lucky, then get in the car and get back to work or go bitch to Silvestri or whatever. Then Brett will take me back to his place and hole himself up in his study, and then by the time he goes to fix himself supper he'll have forgotten I'm there." The cigarette returned to his mouth for a couple seconds and another stream of smoke followed it out. She coughed again, but he didn't seem to notice. "I don't know why he doesn't just let them haul me off to juvie. You'd think he'd be all over that. Then I'd finally be someone else's prob-- hey!"

She'd had enough. She'd snatched the cigarette out of his hand and stormed into the nearest cubicle. Ignoring any protests he might have been making, she flung the damn thing into the toilet bowl and flushed. "You shouldn't do that."

"Why the hell not?" he demanded as she stepped back into the open. "Because it's against the rules? Fuck that."

"No one cares about the stupid rules." God, what was wrong with her? He'd been picking at old scabs and instead of trying to patch them up, she'd just cut him another wound. The last thing Farrel needed was a lecture--like lectures even did anything. But all the same... "Didn't anyone ever tell you how bad for you those things are?"

"No."

He'd answered like she'd asked if it was raining. She could only gape at him. "Never?"

"Does the warning on the carton count as 'anyone'?" Lucia said nothing. Not untriumphant but a little hollow to be smug, Farrel crossed his arms. "Whatever. I know they're not healthy. I just don't care."

He would say that. Annoyed, Lucia frowned. "That's stupid."

"Everything's stupid." His fingers twitched. They were thin and bony and restless, just like the rest of him. At least his fingers had their cigarettes. At least they had all the instruments they played so masterfully. What did the rest of him have? "Except you. Maybe. I don't know." An uncomfortable quiet welled between them, its miasmic presence only stirred by the hum of the fluorescent lights above. Lucia wanted to say something, but what was there to say? The problem here was beyond her.

But it wasn't long before Farrel broke the silence on his own. "Tell Brett he can come and get me if he wants to see me. He doesn't, but tell him anyway."

He doesn't, but tell him anyway. It was quite possibly the saddest thing she'd ever heard. "Farrel?"

"What?"

Not sure what else she could do, she slung her arms around him and pulled him in for a hug. In the first few seconds, his body was a tentative mess of twitches and spasms, but it wasn't long before he melted into ease and even reciprocated. It was oddly natural, touching someone who had always been so untouchable, and she felt weird even noticing it. He probably didn't feel the same way. He'd certainly been hesitant.

"Your dad's an asshole."

Farrel's grip on her tightened. She hoped she hadn't offended him. After all, she'd heard him call Brett an asshole several times... but then again, maybe it was only okay when he said it?

Or maybe it was the other thing. "That's really saying something coming from you."

Lucia swallowed. It was probably the least upsetting way he could have said it and she didn't think she could begrudge him that. Not now. "My dad's a different kind of asshole."

He didn't press the matter any further. He just lifted his head from her shoulder and met her gaze. Her brown eyes must have seemed so dull in comparison with his own midnight blue. "You smell nice."

"And you smell like cigarettes."

"I still smell better than your boyfriend."

Why did he have to keep teasing her about that? "Are you sure he's my boyfriend? Supposedly three months and he hasn't even kissed me yet."

He didn't look too surprised. She wasn't sure if she'd expected otherwise. "It's because he's a loser--and that's coming from me."

"You're not a loser." She gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, then glanced back toward the door. The bell was probably about to ring any minute and her things were still in Mr. Caldwell's room--and yet, somehow, she didn't regret staying so long. "I should probably go. I have a test next period. Make sure you get yourself to the office, okay?"

"Wait."

She'd turned to leave, but a hand on her wrist had stopped her. "Yes?"

It couldn't have been longer than a few seconds but time must have ground to a halt. By the time it was over, she could barely remember how it had begun. But it didn't matter. She would remember everything else. Well... after the shock wore off, maybe.

"Uh... what was that?" she muttered as their mouths broke apart, oddly aware of the smoky taste on her tongue and unsure as to why she didn't mind it more.

One hand on her shoulder, Farrel smirked. It was probably the first time she'd ever seen him smile. "Just for luck."

And--as if that was a sufficient explanation--he unlocked the door and hurried off into the hallway, leaving Lucia to debate whether he'd meant his luck or hers.

Orbis Umbra: "The Representative"

2011-07-09T23:01:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Representative"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Indulged"

December 19, 3714

Well. So much for wondering why Em the social butterfly had stormed up the stairs and called for Ursula to deal with the visitor instead. The woman's very presence had offended him. It offended Ursula too, but for different reasons. But whatever--she'd deal with it. She hadn't been expecting this, but it would only become an issue if she let it. "You're from the Temple?"

Her head nudged in an affirmative tilt. "Eadaoin Murdock." The woman thrust a stiff hand out in front of her; Ursula declined it, opting instead for a nod. Murdock didn't seem impressed, but she held her tongue in that regard. "A member of our German branch was sent to your family home, but we were informed that you and the younger siblings had relocated here?"

"We're here, aren't we?" The representative's brow twitched. Ursula might have found the woman's frustration amusing had she not been so annoyed herself. "I'm legally emancipated. My grandfather recently signed guardianship of the kids over to my brother, so I brought them out here and moved in myself. It's more convenient, since I go to school in the area."

Well... not for long. The fees for the next semester were due and Thekla refused to pay them--and seeing as Ursula would be seventeen in February, the scholarship was out of the question. Meanwhile, she couldn't ask Em or Lisbeth to fork the bill, and since someone needed to keep an eye on the kids anyway...

But not like this bitch needed to know that.

"Hmm. Well, we hadn't been informed of the arrangement."

"I wasn't aware that you needed to be."

"Well, now you are." Murdock sniffed, then gestured to the sitting area, where Ursula's little siblings were engrossed in the world of their video game. "Might we have a word in private?"

As if Ursula cared to grant her that. However... "Christoph, Henriette, mind picking up the mess upstairs?"

Her brother groaned; her sister turned those wide blue eyes on her and mouth the word 'why'. But honestly, she didn't care if the room looked even worse in the end. She jabbed her thumb in the direction of the stairs and glared. "Up. Now."

Grumbling, the pair of them shut off the system and trudged toward the steps. Ursula flopped into Christoph's spot as the kids vanished from sight and Murdock crossed the room to that chair Em's older boyfriend liked so much. She debated whether or not it was morally right to inform her brother that his and Foster's favorite snuggle spot had been tainted.

Murdock placed her briefcase on the floor and glanced after the children before turning back to Ursula. "I detect some Gifts in your sister--nothing on yourself, of course, but we could always use a few good vessels."

"She's six years old you're already thinking of breeding her?" Ugh. Allora herself must have been tearing out her own hair in disgust. Where the hell did people get such idiotic ideas? "Wow, you people are even more fucked up than I thought. But anyway, what do you want?"

In her typical silent exasperation, Murdoch fished a sheet out of her briefcase and gave it a quick look-over. "Ursula A. Straub, correct?"

"Knepp." It had been ages since anyone had called her 'Straub'; nonetheless, her blood still had the tendency to boil at the sound of the name. "My siblings and I dropped our father's name years ago. We go by our mother's name--socially and legally."

Murdock frowned, but penciled in the change. "I see. Anyway, we've received word from your step-grandmother that you won't be returning to your school next semester?"

They knew that but they didn't know that she'd moved? Maybe they didn't keep tabs. Thekla must have informed them of that months ago. Bitch. "And?"

"And based on your academic, genetic, and Alloric history, we have decided to offer you a place in one of the Temple's own schools."

Oh the humanity. Like that was going to happen; she might have laughed had she not been so insulted. "You tell me where the place is and I'll tell you where to shove it. I've been studying under Windsome Applegarth-Boote since I was twelve and if I can't stay with her, I'll teach my damn self."

Murdock wasn't used to that kind of response and her face betrayed it--but she only sighed. "Miss Knepp, we do hope you'll consider it. You're a highly Gifted young woman and it would be shame to waste your talents outside of the system."

"Maybe I don't care much for systems." Ursula crossed her arms and slumped back, sinking slightly into the couch cushions. "Keep your spot. I'm sure you can fill it with some empty-headed little innocent who's only too happy to be your puppet."

"Miss Knepp--"

"Look, nothing you can say will make me give it any more thought." A vein was throbbing in the woman's forehead. Ursula kind of hoped it would burst. "Keep your spot, keep your funds, keep your false charity. Keep it all and get the hell out of my brother's house."

Next chapter: "The Grounded"

Orbis Umbra: "The Indulged"

2011-06-24T15:51:00.001-07:00

Title: "The Indulged"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Applicant"

December 19, 3714

A glint of late-afternoon sun pierced Aurora's eyes as they eased open. The world was a blurry haze and she had to blink a couple of times to bring it back into focus. She seemed to be in the three-walled sitting room in the northwest corner of her uncle's mansion. She'd been able to see the room from where they'd talked in the past and the decorations had changed since. Maybe she'd just taken a nap on the couch? Surely something so bizarre had to have been a dream...

"I see you're awake."

Scorpio stepped into view from the open edge of the room, smug and unyielding in his knowledge as he ever had been. Aurora pushed herself upright and rubbed her eyes with the side of her fist. "What happened?"

"You fainted." His other hand fiddling with something in his pocket, Scorpio pushed his slipping shades back into place. "Don't worry about it, though. Happened the first time I went time traveling too--granted, I was seriously injured at the time, so maybe it's just you."

Wait... "It wasn't a dream?"

Scorpio sniffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Miss Verchoux. Your subconscious isn't that imaginative."

"You're one to talk," she grumbled, slumping back into the seat. Why couldn't her uncle have been the one to talk to her when she'd woken? Or, better yet, why not her aunt? "She seemed nice."

"Marcie?" Aurora nodded. Scorpio frowned. "Yeah, she was quite the lady. She balanced Lox out, kept him from going off the deep end. Goes without saying that she's sorely missed."

Sighing, Aurora closed her eyes again. She liked her uncle, but she had to admit that he was a little... odd. Methodically so, perhaps, but mad nonetheless. Maybe he hadn't always been that way. "Did you know her? In--in real time?"

"She was dead before I met Lox in my timeline, if that's what you mean--err, arguably." He took a minute to consider something, then sat down beside her. She couldn't guess why. Some misguided attempt to comfort her? She wasn't sure whether to lean toward him or away. "I'm sorry about your family."

Hmmm. That. She'd thought enough time had passed and maybe it had. The wound had healed over as best it could, but maybe the sight of her aunt had picked the scab. "Well... at least they're together now, right?"

That might have been a stupid thing to say. A man like Scorpio prided himself on being pragmatic, living in the here and now. A man like Scorpio didn't believe in an afterlife. A man like Scorpio wouldn't even indulge the idea and certainly wouldn't indulge her.

And yet, she found herself being lifted to his lap, a pair of strong arms around her, a dark-coated shoulder in perfect position to catch her tears.

Next chapter: "The Representative"

The Crusader

2011-06-14T09:55:00.000-07:00

NOTE: This was my entry in the Medieval Maxis Sim Makeover contest at Plumb Bob Keep. It has been cross-posted from here.

To my most honorable stepfather,

By the time you read this note, my elder brothers and I will be long gone. Fear not, though; we will return. Please assure our mother and siblings of our well-being and make sure they know that our departure was ultimately of our own accord. Please understand that this was necessary.

In regards to the situation, perhaps our mother might offer a greater insight than I, but it is not a subject she cares to discuss and therefore I urge that you do not press her. You see, dear stepfather... this concerns her estranged brother, our uncle: Sir Domingo de Cervantes.

Our uncle was a prosperous man once. There was a time, in fact, when one could have said everything he touched turned to gold. In spite of--or perhaps because of--his lack of a moral compass, he was a respected knight, revered by lords and admired by the masses. He held large tracts of land and took to wife a sister of one of the greater Galician noblemen. She was, in his eyes, an ideal of womanhood--quiet, polite, rather pretty and somewhat dim. As he went about his hero's business by day and indulged himself by night in earthly pleasures--the drink, the games, the pleasures of the flesh--she remained his constant at home, passive and compliant, fulfilling her wifely duties when he wished it of her and bearing him eight children.

The first seven, however, never survived past childhood. She perished in childbed after birthing the eighth, a boy who was later christened "Fortunato".

As to whether or not my uncle loved his first wife, I lack the authority to say. If hearsay is correct, however, it was her death that pushed him over the edge. He fell off his charade of a white horse and emerged as the drunken old malcontent he is today. Those in his acquaintance grew to resent him, but as a man who had proven himself a hero, they could refuse him nothing. He retained for a time his place in high society--the addresses, the banquets, other such prestige. How could they deny him this when they had once worshipped him so? Was it not a time of grief for him, after all?

In the spring of 1155, my uncle had traveled south to Almohades on a favor to his brother-in-law when he found himself a guest at a feast in the household of a prominent Moorish general. Wine was abundant and my uncle downed more than enough. When he drinks, he is angry, volatile, unpredictable; if only the general's young daughter had known this before brushing past him in the corridor.

I suppose you can guess as to what happened next, which is just as well as I do not care to write it. But suffice to say that the encounter was not without lingering evidence. Her illness was such that the wise women were summoned, and it wasn't long before they found its source. Enraged, her father marched his men to Cervantes and stormed my uncle's castle, yelling that he would only stop if my uncle married the girl and claimed her child. My uncle had little choice but to agree.

Afterwards, however, my uncle took orders from no one.

He did as he pleased--regardless of any objections.

She had her child and bore him six more, though none but her eldest lived long. Her children's deaths and her husband's abuse took its toll on her, left her a shell of her former self. The time came when she wanted nothing more to do with this world. It was four days before my cousin's ninth birthday when he entered his mother's chambers in search of a goodnight kiss, only to find her dangling lifeless from the rafters.

And so my uncle was left with no one but his two surviving sons--Fortunato from his first marriage, Isidro from his second. But even this would not last.

It was August of 1165, seven months after the suicide of my uncle's second wife. Isidro was still shaken from the discovery of his mother's corpse, and Fortunato--a caring, brotherly soul in spite of his paternity--wanted nothing more than see his little brother smile again. So one day, Fortunato took Isidro to the pasture and introduced him to their father's most recent purchase: a beautiful pitch-black stallion of a most impressive size.

The groom on duty at the time had stolen away for a quick romp in the hayloft with a buxom milkmaid, so it was just the two brothers and the horse. Isidro, in a young boy's natural awe of such a creature, asked his brother if they might ride it; unable to deny the hope in those eyes, Fortunato complied and the two brothers mounted the horse.

If only they had realized that it had yet to be broken.

It was only a matter of minutes before they were flung from the beast's back. Isidro flew face-first into a pile of jagged rocks, which resulted in a permanent disfigurement. He was the lucky one. Fortunato--the name now bitterly ironic--hit the fence post head-on and was killed instantly.

After the death of his heir, the apple of his eye, my uncle became a recluse. His drinking spiralled out of control and management of his lands fell to the wayside. Most of his territory was seized by other knights and he scarcely noticed. His purse ran low and still any coin he could find went to his vices. Last I heard, he was about to be booted from his castle and stripped of his knighthood.

But mere weeks ago now, my uncle received a proposition from one of the local lords, the ailing brother of his first wife. The man is bedridden and cannot travel, but always wished to embark on a crusade. This particular lord has no surviving heirs and has told my uncle that if he goes east in his stead, my uncle will become lord after him. Naturally, my uncle had to accept this offer.

And so it came to pass that my uncle and cousin arrived here in the night, asking my brothers and I to join them on their journey. My uncle has promised a tidy reward for each of us, one that might help you and Mother out of your present tight spot. As such, on this morning of the tenth of December, in the Year of Our Lord eleven hundred and seventy-four, I depart from your castle alongside my brothers Augustin and Bernardo, riding eastward with my uncle and his son, to return at a date not yet determined. Kiss the children goodbye for me and tell my sister not to worry, and please assure my mother of our return.

Yours in Christ,

Your stepson,

Casimiro de Cervantes

Orbis Umbra: "The Applicant"

2011-06-11T01:05:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Applicant"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Runaway"

December 19, 3714

Well... that could have gone worse, Lox decided as he headed back into his office. He'd managed to chase the Guard off without too much difficulty. Achilles and Aurora had returned safely--even if Aurora had fainted upon arrival. Ah, she'd been back on her feet before long, confused and filled with questions. Achilles would deal with that. He could probably explain more fluently than Lox could anyway. Besides, he had a bit of reference work to take care of.

...or not.

"So we meet again, Mr. Lox."

Wait... what? There was no way a man got to Lox's age without forgetting a couple details of his existence and that was a fact--but he was sure he would have remembered a long-legged, voluptuous bombshell like this one. What the hell was a face like that doing in his office, anyway? It should have been on the front of every magazine in the whole damn empire.

But hey, he was getting up in years. No sense arguing with a good thing--especially if 'good' happened to mean 'young, hot, and showing up unannounced at a man's own house'. "As much as it pains me to say it, love, the only place we've met is in my dreams."

"That's not what you said last night." Lox raised an eyebrow; the girl smirked. "You said you were from the future, you idiot. Told me to break into your house and meet your present self in your office if I wanted a job. Anyway, I've heard a lot of bullshit in my day, but damn do I ever need the work--so, I'm your applicant."

"I wasn't even aware I was hiring."

"You warned me that you might not be." The girl's head inclined somewhat, her thick lashes casting a sultry shadow over her obsidian eyes. He could see moonlight bouncing off her skin in spite of the fact that it was high noon. "But you said you'd make an exception for me."

"Did I?" She nodded. He had to chuckle. "Well, I suppose I can't go back on my word, can I? I guess it would be nice to have an assistant who didn't run on batteries anyway. What did you say your name was?"

"Didn't. Naiara Capello." Her hand shot out in front of her for a shake. On a whim, he gave it a kiss instead. Those dark eyes glanced upwards as the corners of her mouth tightened. "You did that last night too."

"Well, good to hear I'm still taking chances in my old age."

"Arguably. You kept hitting on me and said something about your wife shooting you when you got back to your time?"

Hmm? That was unexpected--and this coming from a seasoned time traveler. "Ms. Capello, I believe there must have been some mistake. I am a widower."

She shrugged. "Sorry for your loss, but that didn't sound like the case last night."

Well... damn. Life was full of surprises, he supposed. But in any case... did they have to talk about this? "Err... how about I show you where you'll be working?"

Somehow, that set Naiara smiling. It was difficult to be melancholy when she was so aglow. "That would be great."

Next chapter: "The Indulged"

Orbis Umbra: "The Runaway"

2011-06-01T18:01:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Runaway"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Machine"

December 19, 3714

Gwenaelle's Gifts were strong enough so that hangovers weren't a concern, but she'd learned the hard way that the memory thing was still an issue. She was in a strange bed in a weird room filled with a ton of crap that was either priceless or cheap or maybe an assortment of both. Frustrated, she tried to arrange the pieces of the previous night in some sort of chronological order. She'd been out sight-seeing while Naiara had gone for the first few job interviews, then they'd met up for dinner and gone their separate ways again. She must've run out of things to do, because she could remember going back to the motel room, probably just to watch some TV or something--only to find Naiara in there, a man on either side and another standing by with a video camera. Figuring it wasn't any of her business, she'd left for the bar across the street and...

Well, that must have been it.

Figuring it was getting late in the day and Naiara was probably wondering where she was, Gwenaelle kicked back the blankets and lowered her feet to the black hardwood. She was sporting a few extra toes--must have been showing off. Probably trying to impress some freaky girl. It must have worked too, since this definitely wasn't her and Naiara's motel room. The sex might've been damn good, but she couldn't remember much of it. Maybe it was just like it always was. Fingers running down the legs, kissing the breasts, not really caring about who the girl was but wishing she was Caomhe. Allora be damned. She hadn't expected leaving to be difficult.

Ah, but what's the point? she asked herself as she grabbed her underwear off of the floor and pulled it on. Caomhe just wanted a friend. Gwenaelle had been that, but she wanted more and didn't know if she could take it much longer. What reasons had she had to stay? If those documents on Boote's desk had meant anything, it wouldn't be long before there wasn't even a school to return to; might as well just start fresh now, even if the life of a runaway wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

"Morning." Startled, she looked up to see a petite figure in lacy lingerie approaching from the en suite bathroom. Gwenaelle vaguely recognized her as the singer from the band that had been playing at the bar, a slender semi-goth with hooker boots and dyed hair. The music had been okay--nothing horrible, not really in keeping with her personal taste. A little too we're-the-only-ones-doing-this-but-actually-we're-not.

"Afternoon," she corrected as the girl kicked the door shut behind her.

The girl shrugged. "I hardly know the difference anymore." She strode past the bed and dresser, her eyes making a beeline to Gwenaelle's feet. "You know, all those toes really tickled last night."

Gwenaelle smirked. "Is that a good thing?"

"It has its moments." The girl licked her finger and pushed a stray lock of green hair behind her ear. "You know, you're the first Gifted chick I've met--or the first one who made a show of it, anyway. Seriously, that tattoo just appeared at around midnight and when you bought me that drink, you had a blue mohawk. Also, I'm pretty sure there was some point in the night when you had handlebar mustache and one of your breasts was about two sizes bigger than the other."

Mismatched breasts? That was a new one. She must have been drunk out of her mind. Oh well. "Heh. That's nothing. I was short on cash last week, so I grew a third kidney."

The girl laughed. "Here I was thinking it was just the aesthetics. What else can you do? Change yourself into a mermaid or a centaur or something? Or a man? Or some combination of the above?"

Gwenaelle shrugged. "I don't know. Sounds worth a try, though."

"Well, stick around a while longer; seriously, mythological creature hermaphrodite sex is pretty much the only thing I haven't tried and now you've got me curious." The hook on her bra strap slipped out of its hole; the girl rolled her eyes and fed it back through. "By the way, can you just do modifications on yourself, or are other people fair game too? My manager wants me to get a boob job."

She was a little on the flat side... still, that seemed like a steep request from a one-night stand. "We might be able to arrange for that."

"Awesome." She clapped her hands together, then raised an eyebrow. "Hey, what were you doing out anyway? I thought they locked all you Gifted girls up in those shitty prison schools."

She must have been talking about the Temple-run academies--not that that was surprising. Most of the general population didn't know about Boote's school or any of its fallen counterparts. Hell, Boote's school itself was about to become one of those fallen counterparts itself. Fucking Temple. "I got out of there. Irreconcilable differences."

The girl frowned. "What, they weren't too happy about you whipping out extra toes just for the hell of it? Or do they just have a problem with the whole lesbian thing?"

"I don't really want to talk about it." She didn't even want to think about it if she could help it. But she couldn't, so she would. Or at least... she would as long as she didn't have an available distraction... "So. You're kinky."

The girl gave a sultry sniff of a laugh. "Did the mention of mythological creature hermaphrodite sex give it away?"

"Yeah, maybe just a little."

Smirking, the girl leaned forward and nipped Gwenaelle on the earlobe. She wasn't sure just what she thought of last night's bedfellow, but ear-bites from strangers did beat moping around thinking about Caomhe and the school and whatever the hell else. "You have such cute little ears, you know?"

Her mouth curling into a sly grin, she moved her hand downward along the girls side and looped a finger into the waistband of her panties. "So... how long did you say I could stay for?"

The girl's tongue flickered its way down the curve of Gwenaelle's jawline. "As long as you can keep things interesting."

Eh... why not? Didn't Naiara have another interview today anyway? The one with that Lox guy? Surely Gwenaelle wouldn't be missed for long.

If only for the hell of it, she drummed her fingers across the girl's back--all thirteen of them. "That shouldn't be a problem."

Next chapter: "The Applicant"

Orbis Umbra: "The Machine"

2011-05-15T01:03:00.001-07:00

Sim Haven Monthly Challenge, May 2011
Write a short story which includes a robot, android, or A.I.

Title: "The Machine"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Rated: PG (just in case)
Word count: Approx. 378
Warnings: Randomness, borderline exposition, VERY short (even for me!)

Previous chapter: "The Displaced"

Author's Note: This is a piece in the continuity of one of my on-going stories, Orbis Umbra. A few other pieces from this story have also been Sim Haven prompts, including the first chapter.

You do NOT have to be familiar with the story as a whole to make sense of this piece.

December 19, 3714

Sophie drummed her fingers across the mouse as the travel progress bar slowly filled on the screen in front of her. The intermittent creaking set her eyes rolling. Sounded like her knuckles needed oiling again. Figured--she'd just done her nails.

And oh, how she hated having to oil them herself! It was such a hassle, and such a mess. Usually her clothes ended up getting stained too--not that Mr. Lox couldn't afford to replace them, but still. It was always a damn shame to ruin an outfit, especially when one had such cute taste. Maybe she could bug Mr. Lox into taking her to a mechanic... but then again, those garages were always so filthy...

Ah, but why was she dwelling on her fashion sense? That was a given. There was something else she was supposed to be focusing on, something less certain than her fabulous sense of style...

Oh, right. The machine. She had to keep an eye on the monitor and interfere if anything went wrong. After all, how could she live with herself if a moment of her own carelessness caused that gorgeous slab of sunglass-sporting man meat to be lost in the folds of time and space? And that girl too. What's-her-face. Mr. Lox's niece.

But did she really need to worry? Mr. Lox had worked out almost all of the kinks in the system, and the few he hadn't caught just yet almost never surfaced. And even if they did, Sophie was an old pro at handling them; it was, after all, quite literally what she'd been born to do. There had been a time before the trench-coated stallion had been around, and time traveling without someone manning the console was out of the question, and Mr. Lox had had the foresight to realize that.

Only, sometimes--well, a lot of the time--she wished she'd been made with a more interesting purpose in mind. Like shopping. Or accessorizing. Or--

The computer beeped as the bar finished loading and terminated. Sophie straightened her posture and watched as the doorknob turned. She found herself wondering where they'd gone this time. Maybe that delicious slice of sex appeal had brought her a souvenir; one could never have enough vintage necklaces.

Next chapter: "The Runaway"

New Blog

2011-05-12T10:36:00.000-07:00

Since this is the closest thing I have to a main hub, I figured I'd alert anyone following to my new (!) SimFic50, which debuted early this morning.

Realmspeaker

Here's the header pic from the first chapter:

Drabble #1: Severin's Other Name

2011-04-28T22:45:00.000-07:00

Request:
Could we get a drabble centered around Laveria's other name for Severin? That is a very striking and thought-provoking detail. What are the implications of giving someone a name and then withholding it from them? Is a name that you are never called by still rightfully your name? What sort of tension does that create between the characters in the moment that Severin learns he has another name that only his mother knows?? (Not that the drabble would need to be that particular moment.)
--submitted by Penelope on April 27, 2011

November 9, 1140

"Ahh!" Severin ducked to avoid yet another swipe from his brother. "Stop tickling me!"

"Not until you take it back!"

"But it's true!"

"All right, now you're in for--" Rudolphus was cut off mid-lunge by the sound of the door--much to Severin's relief. His brother didn't have the quickest of reflexes, but he knew all of Severin's weak spots and always cut straight to the chase.

"Now what in the hell are you two pups up to?"

It was their father--all tall and smiling and safe. Severin dashed out of Rudolphus's reach and into his papa's arms, where spidery fingers didn't stand a chance. "Papa! He keeps tickling me!"

Behind him, Rudolphus grunted. "He said my name was stupid."

"He said mine was stupid first!"

Chuckling to himself, Severin's father hoisted him up and spun him about, setting him down just off the fringe of the rug--after about half as much of a ride as the last time, Severin noted bitterly. Maybe he was getting too big for that. "Oh, you silly little idiots. Don't you realize it? You both have stupid names."

What? Severin pulled out of his father's embrace and stared at him. Grown-ups weren't supposed to say that kind of thing... were they? "Nuh-uh!"

His father's grin widened. "Uh-huh--and I have a stupid name too. And so does your mother," he added with a nod to Rudolphus.

Indignant, Severin rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. He liked Viridis, but he liked his own mother more, and he didn't want to hear her name insulted too. "What about my mother?"

"Oh, her name isn't stupid." His father reached forward and gave him a pat on the head. "Only nobles have stupid names."

A smirk of smug satisfaction sprang upon Rudolphus's face. The gears in his head--for Severin was sure that jagged pieces of metal were all that skull contained--were cranking at maximum velocity, churning out more jabs at Severin's maternity than he could ever possibly use. Of course, knowing Rudolphus, most of them would be repeats by now.

"Hear that, brat? Your mama's a peasant."

Or completely lacking in any wit at all. Those gears must have been in need of some oil.

"And yours is a duchess," their father added with a wink Severin's way. "And do you know what sons of duchesses get to do on nice afternoons like this one?"

"They go hunting?" Gleefully, their father shook his head. Rudolphus took a moment to rethink, then guessed again. "Fishing?"

"Nope!" Their father took him by the arm and pulled him toward the door. "Remedial Latin lessons!"

"Wait, wha--?" The door had slammed shut behind them before he could finish. Severin snickered to himself at Rudolphus's parting look of horror, but only for a minute; he knew his father had intended to make him feel better about himself by punishing Rudolphus, but what good was it to bask in someone else's misery if they weren't even around to witness? And besides...

He flopped onto the couch and sighed. God, he really was getting old if he was already sighing--but why shouldn't he sigh? Even if Rudolphus was just as stupid as his name...

"You all right, baby?"

Severin looked up to see his mother standing there, smiling down at him as she drew a little nearer. "Your father said you were up here. Anyway, I'm done working for the day, so if you want to do something--"

"Mama, why do I have a stupid noble name?" He hadn't meant to say it--hell, of all the things he'd been thinking, it had probably been the least--but now that he considered it... well, why did he? His father probably had a thousand other bastards, and odds were that none of them were stuck with the same silly names recycled time and time again. "Why did Papa and Viridis want to call me that?"

His mother giggled. She probably thought it was a stupid question. It would have been like her to say that people were called what they were called and to leave it at that--but then again, she always had been unpredictable. "Because you're a nobleman, sweetheart."

He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn't, but decided against it at the last minute--it was an insult to her, after all. At least there were other questions to ask. "But couldn't they have given me another name?"

Her head bowed, his mother took him by the hand and pulled him to his feet. Her hands should have been rough from all the work around the castle, but her passion was for herbs and they kept her skin feeling soft. "Severin, do you know why people name babies? Or dogs or cats or anything?"

"So they can call them something?" It seemed obvious. Then again, maybe there was a little more to it than that.

"Partly, but also to mark them." She bent down toward his level and began to comb her fingers through his hair. "You were given a family name because you belong to your father and he wants everyone to know it because he's so proud of you."

"But don't I belong to you too?" He met her eyes as her hand fell to his shoulder. They were just like his--brown and sharp and not at all like his father's--but in nothing moreso than their sheer solitude. "Aren't you proud of me?"

She bent down and kissed him on the forehead; oddly enough, he didn't feel the need to wipe it off. "Of course I am, and of course you do. That's why I gave you another name."

Wait... what? "Another name?" She nodded. That didn't make any sense. How could a person have two names? And why hadn't she mentioned this before? Also... "What is it?"

Laughing to herself, she tapped him on the nose and shook her head. "It's a secret. It's just for me to know."

Severin raised an eyebrow; as impossible as he would have guessed it to be, he was even more confused. "That's silly. Why would you give me another name if no one was going to use it?"

"Because as soon as someone calls you by your name, they get a little a piece of you--a bit of your time, a bit of your attention, or perhaps even more." Eyes smiling, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her head to his own. His mother was by no means an archetype of ladyhood, but when the situation called for it, she was as gentle and reassuring as any duchess. "This way, I don't have to share."

Orbis Umbra: "The Displaced"

2011-04-18T19:18:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Displaced"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Niece"

October 18, 3691

"So let me get this straight," wrapped up Aurora's aunt--Aurora's dead aunt--from her seat in the middle of the couch. "In the future, Everard invents a time machine--and you two used that time machine to hide from the Imperial Guard and ended up here."

Even in summation it sounded to bizarre to believe. Maybe it was a dream? Maybe she'd walked through that stupid door and Scorpio had crept up behind her with a two-by-four or a cricket bat or something. Yes, that was it. She'd wake in the hospital with her uncle and his lawyer at her bedside while a handcuffed Scorpio sulked in the back of a cop car. Yes, that had to be it.

But for now, she supposed she was stuck in the fabrications of her own mind.

"That's the gist of it, yes." Scorpio crossed his arms and stared through narrowed eyes, as if he'd just been asked to go over multiplication tables with a particularly dense third-grader. "I'm a little surprised to find you uninformed, seeing as I have spoken with your husband about this in the past--your past."

Aurora's aunt shot a glare her husband's way. Smiling, he offered her an apologetic shrug; she rolled her eyes, then turned back to Scorpio. "So you're an associate of his in the future."

"That is correct."

"So if you two came here from the future, then why aren't you concerned about messing with the past?"

Now that... was a very good question. Aurora's uncle sent her a concerned glance from the other side of the couch. She could only respond with a grimace. At least she could take solace in the idea--the fact, she corrected herself--that it was all a dream.

Unaffected as ever, Scorpio nudged his sunglasses upward, then returned to his cross-armed position. "Because in the past, we were here from the future."

...what? Apparently sharing the thought, Aurora's aunt and uncle exchanged a skeptical look. "And how can you be sure of that?" her uncle asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Well, you don't believe me now, but you'll eventually prove it with a series of reckless experiments." Scorpio reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, glancing briefly at the screen. "Actually, you're due to start on the initial research any day--"

He was cut off by a soft hissing sound from the other side of the room as a bluish light burst into being behind him. Aurora nearly sprung back toward the wall at the sight of it, but caught herself just before she could hit her head on the metallic paneling; it was a dream, after all. "Uh... Scorpio?"

"That would be our cue to leave, Miss Verchoux." He put away the cell and gestured for her to hurry it up--not that she'd had the time to dawdle. "It's never a good idea to stay long. We're displaced enough as it is."

Displaced? What did he mean by--?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a warm from her aunt. "Nice meeting you, Aurora. I guess I'll be seeing you again in another seven years or so?"

"Er..." Aurora froze. How was she supposed to answer that? It was a rather awkward question--a speculation of a meeting in seven years' time from a woman who would be dead in two. "Uh, well..."

Not sure how to continue, she looked to Scorpio for help. He nodded--not quite the response she'd been hoping for.

But then again... was there any harm in lying to a dream? Because that was what this was--a dream.

"Yes. Yes, I guess you will."

Next chapter: "The Machine"

Orbis Umbra: "The Niece"

2011-04-05T21:06:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Niece"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: The Boote Files - IV

October 18, 3691

It was difficult to feel sexy sans makeup and wearing nothing but last night's skirt and a men's shirt pulled from the hamper--but somehow, Marcie's husband made it possible.

"Everard!" He smirked at her mock-scolding; she had to giggle. "In the middle of the kitchen? How daring!"

"I know. My parents could walk in at any minute... oh wait." His black brows peaked up from behind his aviators, his mouth taking on a smoldering curl. "We don't live with them anymore."

Indeed, they didn't. It had taken a while, but one of Everard's botany projects had finally struck gold. Thank Allora there would always be a market for undetectable strains of cannabis; the upkeep for a place like this wouldn't come cheap, and there were just too many advantages to living on their own. "We could fuck on the counter if we wanted to."

His smile widening, he took her in his arms and dipped her downward. "Do you want to?"

"Maybe a little."

The smooth glide of his tongue past her lips set her flesh aflame and shivering as he pressed her to the counter's surface. She snapped her legs around his and dug her thigh into his crotch as the spiraling kiss continued, rubbing back and forth until she got the sense that his jeans had grown rather stifling. A filmy ooze crawled from her own pantie-free nethers; she took her hand off his back and reached instead for his fly. She slipped the rivet through its hole, then broke her lips away from his. She tried to look sultry. He seemed to find her so. "Mind if I get the zipper with my teeth?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but the voice she heard was not his. "Uncle Everard?"

Horrified, Marcie sprung back to see a startled teenage girl standing between Everard and the steps, an annoyed young man behind her with his hand over his face in sheer embarrassment. "I told you coming in here was a bad idea!"

Where the hell had they come from? How had they gotten past the security system? And what was this about Everard being her uncle? "You have a niece?"

Frowning, Everard turned around and looked the girl over. "Not that I'm aware of." The girl looked insulted; Marcie tried to smile at her as Everard's gaze traveled to her companion. "Hello, Achilles."

The young man only groaned. Everard chuckled to himself, but Marcie had to raise an eyebrow. "You know him?"

"So he's told me." He reached back and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her forward. "Marcie, this is Achilles Scorpio. Achilles, this is Marcie."

The young man nodded. "Pleasure." He didn't sound like he meant it, but that was the least of her concerns.

"So..." Everard's eyes flickered back toward the confused-looking girl once more. "Is she really my niece?"

"She's actually your niece, Mrs. Lox," the young man answered with a nod Marcie's way. "You'll have to excuse her, though. She isn't due to be born for another seven years."

Next chapter: "The Displaced"

Spotlight (Simstorytellers on LJ)

2011-04-04T20:57:00.000-07:00

Posted here because LJ is being a bitch. I might post it properly some time in the week if I can work up the patience to do so.

I'm not very active on LiveJournal, so I think a confusion warning might apply here. Also, there may be naughty language. And not many pictures compared to previous entries, unfortunately.

1. Tell us about yourself. (What you do for a living, your interests, where you live, your non-sim hobbies, etc.)

Well, for starters, my name is Van.

And yes, I took a picture of myself in my bathroom mirror. Lame, I know, but I'm kind of weird about other people taking pictures of me and therefore didn't have many to choose from.

I'm a twenty-year-old university sophomore. I'm a full-time student, but I'll probably be working odd jobs over the summer. Currently kid-free and single-ish. I write too much, swear too much, and I enjoy video games even though Sims is pretty much the only one I have access to right now. I'm left-brained, selectively meticulous, and Canadian.

They managed to fit all of us into one shot.

Born and raised in Calgary, currently living in Vancouver. I'm planning on doing a creative writing major, but they only take about twenty students a year, so we'll see about that. I don't really enjoy the classroom environment, so I'm hoping to just do the degree and get out. Not sure what I'll do if I don't get into the program, but I don't really want to think about that right now.

2. Do you have other creative pursuits that affect how you tell your sim stories? (Such as photography, creative writing, etc.)

Well, I've been writing since I was a kid, and I'm currently working on several offline, non-Sims writing projects as well. This is my main creative pursuit, since I'm not at all visual (as you might be able to tell from the relative lack of pictures in this interview--seriously, it only occurred to me last night that I needed a header) and about as coordinated as a beached whale. This probably shows in my writing. My novels are more descriptive out of necessity, but with the Sims stories, I kind of get lazy and use the pictures as a crutch--if you can see that Maru is a redhead, why would I say it? :P

(At the same time, however, I'm lazy with my pictures with the idea that I can compensate for that with the words. It's a paradox of infinite corner-cutting!)

I've acted in a few plays, mostly when I was in high school. I've been told that I have a nice singing voice, but I never really pursued it. I used to play tenor saxophone and bass guitar, and I play a little bit of piano by ear--but only the right hand part (told you I was uncoordinated).

3. Why did you start creating and posting sim stories?

Hmm. Well. I had Sims, but I was getting kind of bored with it, so I started looking for challenges. The first one I came across was the legacy, but I decided not to do one because A) I didn't want to limit myself to one family for ten generations and B) my mathematical, timeline-oriented brain would have exploded at the idea of some spare from generation two walking by the house with a youthful, freshly-transitioned-adult spring in their step and waving to the elderly head of the household, namely the great-great-great grandchild of the passerby's long dead sibling. Seriously, that sounds like a stroke waiting to happen for me.

I considered doing a prosperity challenge, but then I found the royal kingdom challenge and that was my introduction to CC. I downloaded all the Medieval stuff I could find, then me and my brother whipped up some sims and divided up the families. Of course, then we got frustrated waiting for the kids to grow up--so I started looking around, found InSim, and chaos ensued.

The idea of having so much control was great at first, but it took all the surprises out of the game and eventually lost its fun--but at the same time, it was now a painstaking task to send a Sim to use the toilet when you could just spawn the motives adjuster. So I started looking at RKC blogs to find some way to make it fun again. Two of the blogs I found were Lothere and Mhalwae, both of which had evolved into actual stories, and this kind of triggered a lightbulb in my head. "Hey... I love writing and I need to make Sims fun again! I'm going to write my own story!"

4. Do you use Maxis pre-made sims, original sims, sims based on other sources (TV, movies, books, other games), or some combination of these? Why?

Depends on the story. Obviously, with In Fair Veronaville, I'm using the Veronaville Sims, although I've distorted the hell out of their characters as Maxis intended.

Also, I changed some faces. What, he grew up to look completely unrecognizable!

The rest of my Sims are all original characters, although a lot of them--the Naroni founders, most of the Ashelia cast, the core group from This House Is Vegas--are recycled from previous offline works of mine.

5. How long does it take you to create a new CAS sim for a story? (If you create original sims, that is.)

Uh, well, that depends. If I don't have any specific look in mind, I'll usually just go with whatever CAS generates, tweak it for purposes of decent breeding potential, pick CC at random, and leave it at that. If I need a relative, it takes a little longer because I'll usually end up breeding a bunch of exported Sims to get a similar-but-not-identical Sim.

And then of course if I have a completely new character who isn't a relation, but whom I do have a certain look in mind for... well, that can take a while. Twenty minutes or so :S

6. Do you have one sim that frustrates you more than any of the others?

They all frustrate me. All of them.

(Easiest. Answer. Ever.)

7. Do your sims have their own theme songs?

Heh. You know, I sometimes think about this... but to be honest, none of them really do. Maybe it's because my characters are too freakishly specific for most songs. Or maybe it's just because I don't know shit about music :P

8. Do you like using aliens, vampires, zombies or any other non "normal" sims?

Uh, well... I'm only using the base game right now, so zombies and vampires aren't exactly an option for me at this point. As for aliens, I like seeing what other people do with them, but I don't use them in my stories and I really don't even have any other than the Strangetown premades. Some might pop up if I start actually playing again, but for now, I can't say I've really done much with the aliens.

Boring answer, I know :P

9. Do you usually create backstories for your sims?

Always, even when I wasn't writing and posting. I don't see how it's possible not to.

10. If it were possible, would you carry out "romantic interactions" with any of your sims?

Definitely not. While I do think some are more attractive than others, I can think of several good reasons why I wouldn't go there with any of them, even if they were real people.

Looking at my leading men would probably give you an indication of my type, though?

No trends here, folks...

11. Have you ever cried when a sim died? How emotionally attached are you to your sims?

Since I'm kind of a robot when it comes to all manner of fiction, I can't say that I have. I'm emotionally attached to them in some sense, I suppose, but I never cried over any when I was actually playing the game. Nowadays, since I'm just using the game for storytelling, I don't even kill off my "dead" Sims in-game, just in case I need them for a flashback or a dream sequence or whatnot.

12. Do you have a favorite character/family?

Not really? There are some I write about more than others, but it's not so much due to favoritism as it is to the place where the story happens to be just now. I have a ton of beloved characters who have been in the background for ages just because nothing noteworthy has been happening in their lives :(

13. Are there any stories in particular (sim or non-sim) that have inspired your storytelling?

Probably. From my experience, writers (and artists in general) are kind of inspiration leeches. I get inspiration from everywhere. Most of the time, I can't pinpoint where specifically. The two stories I mentioned earlier, Lothere and Mhalwae, were what inspired the format of Naroni, for sure, and then probably some of the prosaic masterpieces like Dragging Blue Lake inspired some of the (attempted) more in-depth writing.

I probably get little snippets of inspiration from every story I read. I can't give a full list here, but I have my reading list posted on all my story blogs (although I think the one on Naroni is the only up-to-date one?). Some haven't been updated in ages and some unfortunately never even got off the ground, but they're all on that list for a reason.

14. How do you decide on names for your sims?

Unless they've been recycled from a previous work? Random name generators.

(God, I have the most boring answers for all of these.)

15. Do you use hacks in your game? If so, which ones? How do they affect your stories?

Yep :) I couldn't function without InSim--instant maxed motives, instant relationships, instant pregnancies, etc. I also use InTeen, even though some people hate the concept. I have a few other miscellaneous hacks, such as Squinge's Hula and More, but I can't remember all of them off the top of my head.

In general, they just make picture-taking easier and more efficient. They kind of make gameplay too easy, though :(

16. Do you have a favourite EP/SP? Which expansion adds the most to storytelling for you?

Like I said earlier, I'm just using the base game XD

But I'd like to get Night Life for downtowns (I'm running out of space in my neighborhoods), Seasons for OMGSNOW, and maybe University for plastic surgery that doesn't require making a new Sim and then leaving the game to play with Sim PE.

17. Do you make your own custom content?

Rarely. Since I don't have a functional BodyShop (pre-Night Life BodyShop is borked), I can't create new clothing and hair files, but I've occasionally swapped some of the textures in previously existing files. Jadin's hair, for example. It's a Rose mesh that has both a male and female version, but all of the "reds" are kind of... um, pink. Anyway, Piggi made Nouked recolors for the female version, so I just stole the texture from that file and plugged it into one of the Rose reds and voila!

I can recolor objects, though? I recently put some recolors of the Feenwald saddle blankets up for download at the Medieval Sims forum. They're nothing great, but at least it's something.

18. Do you have a favourite sim outfit or hairstyle?

Well, I love iamliz13's alpha tunics (mesh by Tiggerypum). Seriously, most useful set of male clothing I've ever downloaded. I also love pretty much anything by sherahbim, although I wish her dresses came in more than one color.

For hairs... I don't know. There are some that I really love but wouldn't work on any of my Sims. There are others that I kind of hate, but use all the time. For the most part, I just go with what works for that particular Sim and it grows on me.

I love all of Almighty Hat's hair dumps of various meshes in Pooklet colors, but for the sake of my downloads folder I try to just nab the meshes I don't already have.

19. What are some things that you wish were included in the Sims games (2 or 3), but aren't? (For example - social interactions, the way sims interact with objects, etc.)

Well, for starters... less over-the-top chat animations, the ability to change Sim height in CAS and therefore animations that actually adjust for the height difference, the option of cancelling the newspaper subscription, the ability to use earlier flirt interactions for high-level couples, and the ability to remain friends with someone without having to call them every goddamn day.

Oh, and the ability to adjust the number of days left in the Sim's current life stage within CAS. I mean, seriously--a couple with three teenagers comes out of CAS on their first day of adulthood? Mathematically, that means they would have reproduced while in the child stage.

I probably have more, but those are the ones that immediately jump to mind.

Then again, maybe some of those things aren't problems with the later expansions? I wouldn't know.

20. How long does it usually take you to prepare a story update?

Not long. I'm so lazy with my photoshoots that actually taking out a posebox is a chore for me, so it's usually just a matter of making two Sims chat and waiting for appropriate-ish facial expressions. Add that to the fact that most of my posts only have a handful of images and the fact that I almost never take a shot unless I'm positive I'll need it, and photoshoots rarely take more than half an hour or so, excluding load times and any interruptions.

With the writing, since most of my posts are pretty short, probably about forty-five minutes to an hour on average--again, not counting distractions. All of my Sims stuff is first draft, so it never takes too long.

21. Show and tell: Please show us your workspace (a photograph, if possible, or just describe it), and tell us about the conditions you prefer to work in. Do you have any bizarre habits or rituals?

Bear in mind that this space is usually a lot messier. The picture is kind of old.

I'm not too picky with my work environment. My one requirement? Solitude. You know those people whose brains just stop working as soon as someone else walks into the room? I'm one of them.

22. Do you usually have your sims act to a pre-written script, just follow what they do, or some of both? what comes first - the text or the image? Is one of the elements more important than the other to you, or are they about equal?

I take the pictures first because given the limitations of the game, I figure it's easier to compensate for the pictures with the writing than the other way around. That being said, I do have a vague outline and I go into my photoshoots with a definite idea about what has to happen.

23. Can you give us any hints about what is coming up in your stories? (Oh, come on...)

Uh... well, other than the standard "Be prepared for crazy shit?" :P

Naroni: More on the Sparron/Searle front coming up, as well as the Ietrin/Jeda front. Someone new will be coming to Naroni soon. Also, keep your eye on Severin's daughter Viridis. Oh, and there's going to be a colossal suspension of disbelief required soon, but it's necessary for the sake of later developments.

Ashelia: Be prepared for a not-so-happy reunion. I imagine the rest of this installment of the series will be fairly brief, but there will be casualties. A certain somebody will be making a comeback soon.

IFV: We're coming up to another time jump after Chapter Eighty, but it won't be as drastic as the previous two--just a year or so in this case. Expect more Hal and Beatrice, more Juliette and Mercutio, and there is a distinct possibility that Albany will be stripped of his Karma Houdini status.

Orbis Umbra: Aurora's mind is about to be blown--soon. ~~Like, maybe tonight if I can figure out what I want in the set~~ (err, scratch that. No time for set building. Naroni instead). Boote's silent rebellion will continue and we'll eventually learn Scorpio's backstory. Naiara and Gwenaelle may be out of school, but they're not out of the story. Also, keep an eye on Ursula.

24. In your opinion, what makes a good sim story? What do you like to read in other people's stories?

I'm not picky. A good story is... well, a good story. An interesting plot with unique, three-dimensional characters is all I'm after, and as long as I get that, I don't worry too much about prose style or image quality. I just like to be entertained :)

25. How often do you check your flist to see if your favourite authors have updated?

Several times a day, unless I'm out and about--and it figures that it's on those days when people usually update, really :S

26. What advice would you give someone who wants to create a sim story?

1) Stressing about posing and lighting and the perfect CC is overrated. Yes, gorgeous, well-planned shots can enrich a story, but make sure you have a story first. If we think of "sim story" as a grammatical phrase, then "story" is the noun and "sim" is just an adjective. Lay your foundations first, and then--if you have the time and energy to do so--embellish away :)

2) Don't be afraid to write shit. Write lots of shit, and don't be afraid to share it. Good luck finding a writer who doesn't think their own work is shit, but the truth is that other people won't think it's shit at all.

And really? The more "shit" you write, the more gold you'll write too, and you'll be able to tell the difference more easily. And if you go back to your old work and find that it makes you want to throw up? That's good! It means you've improved :)

27. Storytelling aside, what first drew you to The Sims? What do you like most about playing The Sims?

Well... it's video games + world-building + storytelling? Best. Combo. Ever.

'Nuff said :P

But even when I was playing, probably the thing I liked most about it was the storytelling aspect. I mean, is it even possible to play Sims without some sort of story going on in the background?

28. How long have you been playing The Sims? Have you been playing since Sims 1?

Well, I never actually owned a Sims game until Sims 2 (and even then it was a few years after the initial release), but I'd played before at friends' houses. I was just a kid when Sims 1 was around, and I didn't have my own computer at the time, and my mother didn't like the idea of the game--the whole "playing God" idea and whatnot--and I couldn't have afforded it on my own.

I used to bug my friends to play Sims all the time before I had my own copy. In hindsight, some of them were probably annoyed with me :P

29. Do you only play the game with stories in mind, or do you also play just for fun? Do you record everything with photos anyway?

These days, I only use the game for pictures. I don't even play my story Sims--they exist solely for the purpose of story visuals.

I sometimes miss playing the game, though. I have this secret other RKC neighborhood that I was playing for a while, but I haven't had time for it lately. Hopefully I'll get around to it again soon, though (although there are stories there too, if only for me).

30. Do you have a self sim? (We'd love to see him/her, if you want to share a pic.)

Ee-yep.

She doesn't really look much like me, but she's the closest I could get (I got her from breeding Aldhein and Nora in CAS, just for something a little more interesting than a straight-up Face Whatever). As a snide reference to my own cruelty to my sims, she played the antagonist in this Sim Haven prompt, opposite Arrigo of This House Is Vegas as a nameless plane crash survivor/psych ward patient.

31. Is there anything else you would like to add?

Wow, my interview seems really rushed and impersonal compared to the previous ones. Sorry about that :S

And I'd like to thank all those who have read or still are reading any of my stories, for sticking with me and supporting my work in spite of its rather inconsistent quality. And an extra thanks to everyone who tacked some extra questions onto this interview :)

And now, for your questions:

Beth
You have such a large cast of characters but you make them uniquely memorable. Although there are family resemblances, every character is strikingly and unforgettable. Do you spend a lot of time thinking about each person?

Thanks! I think about some characters more than others, and not necessarily the ones I write the most. Some of them are almost instinctual by this point, like the way I imagine characters like Cooper and Beth are for you and Gayl, but some of them do require more thought--and some of them I just like to think about :P

I'm not really sure if that answered your question. Sorry :(

How do you do it?

Uh... I just have a lot of time on my hands? :P

I don't know. I honestly don't know. Sometimes I worry about characters being too alike, especially with their ever-increasing number, so I'm just glad that everyone can tell them apart at this point.

Christi
Do you find that you think in terms of Naroni or Ashelia... any of them, really... very often, and apply them to RL?

Hmm... I'll admit that I'm not entirely sure what you mean? Sometimes I'll see people interacting in real life and think something like "Hmm, they remind me of Falidor and Florian", or maybe I'll get into a disagreement with someone that's similar to something I've written and I'll look back on how the conflict was solved in the story (not that that EVER works, of course :P).

That's probably not at all what you were asking. Sorry about that. My brain is just not here today.

And you've said before that Naroni started off from something you'd written when you were twelve or thirteen. Have you been developing the stories and plots that long as well, or did you simply borrow them and change them?

Well, since I decided to do a story with the RKC format, I needed a kingdom name and a handful of founding couples. I debated just whipping up some brand new characters, but then I stumbled across this old thing I'd written and thought "Hey, why don't I just make some Sims based on some of these characters?". Some I made the neighborhood--named Naroni after a place in the story--and made my founding couples, all of whom were modeled after those old characters in looks and CAS personality.

Of course, a lot of them completely changed on me once I got them onto their lots ;)

As for the plots, though, none of them have anything to do with the original story at this point, and I'm kind of hoping it stays that way. It wasn't a great story, to say the least :P

When you write, do you know where it's going to go? Do you have outlines or do you just 'go with the flow'?

In general, I have an idea of how each storyline will go. I have a very "connect the dots" writing style--I know the beginning, the ending, and the key points in the middle, and it's just a matter of how to bridge them.

I do have outlines, but they're very vague and don't stretch too far into the future. Their main functions are to remind me which Sims I need for each shoot and to ensure that the present storylines each get an appropriate amount of focus--not that they always work :P

Pen
What draws you to a particular time period? I know that your locations fictionalized and that you consider your work not to be historical fiction but many of your stories lean towards the "period piece" genre. What is your favorite thing about writing stories set in the past (or, in the case of Orbis Umbra, a time period that never happened)?

Hmm... I guess it could be the whole idea of "write what you know" and my sheer hatred of said idea? :P

I understand the logic behind it and I do draw on my own experience for certain in-story events, but in general, I have a lot more fun writing what I don't know. Does this sometimes end up with me having no idea what I'm talking about? Invariably. But at least I'm enjoying myself? ;)

As for the whole "why Medieval-esque as opposed to, say, Colonial-esque" aspect... it probably just has to do with my literary background--namely, all the high fantasy I grew up on :P That and the fact that it was sort of implied by the whole RKC thing.

Again, sorry if that didn't quite answer your question. I recently discovered that I think more in numbers than in anything else, and sometimes it's difficult to put my non-prose thoughts to words.

Most of your stories seem pretty thoroughly structured-- A great deal of thought seems to go into your outlines for your stories from beginning to end. But how far in advance do you plan a story like Naroni that is more open-ended? And does the flexibility of an open-ended story pose its own challenges or does it feel more liberating?

I plan Naroni about a story year or so in advance (and now that you've reminded me of that, I should probably bust my ass on my 1174 outline pretty soon). I don't like to plan too far ahead in case I get some new stroke of inspiration for either an existing storyline or a brand new one, but it's nice to have some idea about the near future of the story. Outlining has its advantages and disadvantages, for sure, but I think I've managed a decent balance so far.

When do you take the time to come up with all of this stuff?? Your imagination must not have an off switch! Is there a specific point in your day where you sit down to hash everything out or does inspiration just strike you wherever you are, whatever you are doing?

Heh... well, a lot of it is probably just my personality. I'm kind of a grumpypants and I don't really have much patience for my daily routine. On the other hand, I'm kind of a homebody and not at all a people person, so I don't really get many opportunities to switch things up. Therefore, I'm pretty much thinking about something I'm writing--an online work or an offline one--at any given time. I imagine it's simultaneously amusing and frustrating to the people around me, seeing as I'm always zoning out in lines, grabbing foods I don't don't like off of grocery shelves and rushing to put them back, and walking in front of buses.

So... I wouldn't say that my imagination doesn't have an off switch, exactly. Story stuff is just my mental screen saver XD

Additionally, is Florian based on a real person? And if so, will he marry me?

Florian is... well, he's Florian. He's nothing like I expected him to be when I first made him--he just sort of evolved on his own. He's not really based on anyone, but there might be someone sort of like him out there?

Morgaine
Since you mentioned it, how many illegitimate children does Lonriad have? ;)

Note to self--pick better example question :P

Well, in terms of the game, he only has the four on his family tree (Imena, Orrick, Senwick, and of course Severin). In terms of canon... oh, God. Way more than that. The guy's spent the better part of the last sixty years banging any willing females he can get his hands on, so I don't even want to guess at the number. I'm not sure I can count that high o_O

About how long does it take you to write a post? How many drafts do they go through?

Like I said above, about forty-five minutes to an hour if you don't count time-wasting distractions (of which there are sometimes quite a few). With my Sims stuff, I only do one draft. I should probably do at least two, but I don't have the patience :P

Are we EVER going to see the Many Potential Brides of Severin?

Uh... maybe? The problem is that he never actually married any of them and therefore none of them are in Naroni anymore. Most of them are in Dovia now, though. One is married to Abrich, one is married to Cambrin, one is married to Danthia's father, and the other three are married to the Sadiel brothers who are still in Dovia. Of the other two, one is ridiculously old and probably doesn't have much longer to live, and the other is the infamous Pope's Niece.

I won't rule out the possibility of seeing any of them at some point, but I'm not planning on it just yet.

Does Albany know that Hal is back in town (and married to a Monty)? If so, how does he feel about it and why hasn't he been making Hal's life more miserable?

Albany has no idea that Hal is back in Veronaville. Yet. :S

Phoenix
How do you keep up with so many stories and do it on such a structured time table?

I guess this combines the answers I gave Beth and Pen. Too much time on hands + not many other interests = one-trick pony who's constantly writing, whether it be sim stories or manuscripts :P

What drew you to this time period? I know you hopped into current time with THIV (which I <3). Do you see yourself doing another story like that?

Like I said to Pen, it's mainly the reading material in my past plus the RKC format plus the desire to speculate about the unknown (plus maybe my obsessive world-building tendencies and my inability to put those to use in a time/place with which the readers are already familiar?).

I actually have some Sims whipped up for another modern story that I might start at some point. I'd planned on using them in another SimFic50 after wrapping up THIV, but then Orbis Umbra exploded out of nowhere and that ended up taking THIV's old slot. I might do the other SimFic after IFV winds up, though? ;) Of course, looking at my notes for it, it wouldn't end up being anything like THIV.

OMG!! FLORIAN!! He is the best! Where did his character come from?

Flooooorian again! I really need to think of more for that man to do these days :S

(Granted, his last appearance was him dragging his boss out of bed in the middle of the night for the sole purpose of ranting about romantic relationships between stepsiblings, which is definitely something that Florian and only Florian would do.)

Thanks again for reading, everyone. This was fun (minus all the LJ ridiculousness), and I hope you all have a great week :)

Announcement: Storyteller Spotlight

2011-03-28T20:17:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone!

If you're subscribed to more than one of my blogs, sorry about clogging your feed with the same message multiple times.

Anyway, I'm doing the Storyteller Spotlight interview at the SimStoryTellers community on LiveJournal. If you have any questions (which I hope at least a few of you do, because I'm quite obscure on LiveJournal and it would be nice to have at least a couple questions up there), feel free to ask them at the questions post (no LJ account required) and they will be answered in the interview next Monday. When the interview is posted, I'll add the link to the sidebar next to the VSS interview.

Have a great night, all :)

The Boote Files: Gwenaelle Beckett

2011-03-22T00:38:00.000-07:00

FROM THE FILES OF WINDSOME APPLEGARTH-BOOTE

Previous chapter: "The Skeptic"

Name: Gwenaelle Catherine Beckett
Date of Birth: June 23, 3699 (age 15)
Place of Birth: Dover, Kent, Anglia
Nationality: Anglian
Socio-Economic Class: Upper
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Dark green
Physique: Slender
Notable Family: Miles Chauncey Beckett (paternal grandfather), Lucille Antoinette Dupont-Beckett (paternal grandmother), Foster Richard Beckett (father), Anna Eleanore Locke (mother)
Other Connections: ?

Handedness: Right
IQ Test Score: 118
MBTI Score: ENFP
Star Sign: Cancer
Academic Ranking: 6th of 7

Notes:
Only daughter of former student Anna Locke; also sole granddaughter of former colleague Lucille Dupont. Parents estranged, father lives with his parents at the Beckett Estate in Dover. Mother lives in Eccleston and works as a medium.

Mother and paternal grandmother are both exceptionally strong in the Gifts. Grandmother is highly ambitious--possible marriage of convenience between parents to produce Gifted offspring?

Seems to get along with the other girls, particularly Miss Fraser and Miss Capello. Excels in visual arts; mediocre study performance, but moreso out of laziness than inability.

Verdict: can keep up with her peers, but far from the most Gifted student. Doesn't seem interested in pushing herself either.

--W.C.B.

Approved as of December 19, 3714

Next chapter: "The Niece"

Orbis Umbra: "The Skeptic"

2011-03-18T01:20:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Skeptic"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Unknown Caller"

December 19, 3714

Aurora Verchoux was not the most imaginative of girls, but even she could not have helped but wonder what lurked within the confines of the locked room in the forgotten wing of her uncle's estate. Evidence of a crime he'd committed, perhaps--or possibly it was a sanctuary of sorts, filled with the effects of his belated love?

Needless to say, now that she was here--now that her uncle was schmoozing with some of the Imperial Guard and had told Scorpio and Sophie with a wink to take her to the safe place--she couldn't say she was impressed. "...It's a door."

Scorpio pushed his shades back into position and frowned. "How observant of you."

He didn't say anything more--that figured. Annoyed, Aurora looked to Sophie, hoping for some sort of telling gesture, but it was no use. The robot was quite preoccupied and unusually grave, fiddling around at a computer in the corner with a sort of dutiful resignation not uncharacteristic of any white collar office drone. "What's she doing?"

"Plotting the coordinates and initiating the sequence." Scorpio's words were useless seeing as she didn't know what he was talking about--but knowing him, that was why he'd chosen them in the first place. "It's an important job. It's what your uncle made her for, really; someone needs to stay on this side."

Aurora smirked. He was making even less sense than usual, but this time, it wasn't so much frustrating as it was ridiculous. "On this side of what? The door?"

"Yes."

Wait... what? "But it doesn't lead anywhere! It's just a random, free-standing doorway in the middle of the room. You could walk around instead of going through it if you wanted to get to the other side."

"So it would seem from where you're standing, perhaps." Scorpio shook his head, then glanced toward Sophie. Aurora followed his gaze just quickly enough to see the robot flash a quick thumbs up. "There--she's finished. You can open the door if you like."

Was this some kind of trick? She sniffed. "Would there be a point?"

Scorpio shrugged. "Well, you can't exactly find out if you don't try, can you?"

He wasn't going to stop until she tried it, and never before had she felt like such a skeptic. She shot him an indulgent grin as though he were a small child, then stepped toward the door and pulled it open. Still smiling smugly to herself, she stepped through.

Oh, he was going to look so stupid when nothing happened.

Next chapter: The Boote Files - IV

Orbis Umbra: "The Unknown Caller"

2011-02-26T23:42:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Unknown Caller"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Dissenter"

December 19, 3714

"Oh, I like to go swimmin' with bare-naked women and swim between their legs! Swim between their legs! Swim between their--!"

The peaceful oasis of Lox's shower was shattered by a stubborn ringing. Curses! Why the hell had he let Sophie persuade him into putting a phone in the bathroom? Come to think of it, why had she even wanted a phone in the bathroom? She was a mute robot, for Allora's sake; there were so many problems here that he wasn't going to even begin thinking about them.

Well, except for one--namely, the ringing. Lox ground his teeth as the sound persisted. Six rings... seven rings... eight...

Isn't anyone going to get it? Annoyed, he shut off the water and stepped onto the floor, a puddle trailing behind him and he shuffled toward the phone. He lifted it from the wall-mounted receiver and sighed. "Y'hello?"

"Everard Lox?"

It wasn't a voice he recognized. Uneasy, he glanced at the caller ID: Unknown Caller. "May I ask what this is about?"

"Imperial Guard." ...oh. Perhaps it was a good thing no one else had answered after all. "We're calling from outside your gates. Nothing to worry about, of course--just a routine inspection."

Routine inspection my ass. Nothing the Empire did was routine; they were here for the same reason they always were, even if they wouldn't admit to it. Lox had been on their blacklist long enough to know that. "All right..."

"So, are you going to come and greet us, Mr. Lox? Or will we have to break down your gate?"

Well, the variety of options certainly hadn't improved since the last time the Imperial Guard had called, and that was frustrating as always. Ah, but no matter; he was a seasoned veteran, after all. "I'll be down in a minute. I just got out of the shower, and I take it you'd rather I didn't greet you and your men in nothing but a towel?"

Silence. Lox smirked. "I thought so. Like I said, I'll be down in a few."

"Err... we appreciate that, Mr. Lox."

"Not a problem." He pressed the end call button and tossed the phone onto the sofa as he gathered up his clothes. Scorpio was still here, a peek out the window informed him--good. If there was one thing Lox knew, it was how to filibust, how to stall. He could give Sophie and Scorpio more than enough time to secure both the machine and Aurora.

Next chapter: "The Skeptic"

Orbis Umbra: "The Dissenter"

2011-02-19T13:01:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Dissenter"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Ward"

December 18, 3714

There were few things Windsome Applegarth-Boote hated more than meeting with the Temple Council. She was an old woman from a different time and there were certain things about the modern world that never failed to raise her brows; however, as for what private citizens did with their own lives, she could tolerate such unconventional choices. Certainly there was nothing against such things in Allora's teachings, and if nothing else, it wasn't as if men walking about in lipstick and miniskirts or women with their breasts bound under lumberjack shirts had any impact on Mrs. Boote's own being.

What the Council did and how they presented themselves, however, had nothing to do with personal choice. They didn't shave their heads for comfort or one of those charity drives or even stylistic preference, and they didn't traipse around in shapeless suits because they felt as though they'd been born in the wrong bodies. While the secular world had always been ruled by men--though the male dominance had waned considerably over the years--the religious order was the domain of women; men, after all, could not inherit the gifts of Allora. But throughout history, the male leaders had shown a marked discomfort with the females of the Temple, to the point where the role of religion in the rest of society had become something of a joke. In order to counteract this--instead of fighting like Allora would have wanted--the Temple Council had decided to conform to the standards of their oppressors, model themselves after the male rulers in both appearance and manner. Even after the feminist movement, that old remnant of an idea lingered, and though the Council had done accordingly since long before Mrs. Boote was ever dreamed of, she found the very notion an insult--both to her sex as a whole and to those who might have done the same for their own personal reasons.

But when the Council summoned you, you obeyed. "You sent a note requesting my presence?"

As always, she left off the traditional honorific of 'sir'--and as always, the rigid, yet chromosomally symmetrical Head of the Council frowned. "That we did, Mrs. Boote. Please, come closer."

Mrs. Boote closed the door and stepped toward the Head, barely acknowledging the rest of the Council with a glance. They were probably annoyed, but she didn't care. "What is this about?"

"Your academy." The tone of the Head's voice contained a trace of bitterness. Once upon a time, the woman herself had been an applicant at Mrs. Boote's school, but she'd been passed over in favor of someone more gifted, as was inevitably the case with most of the girls who wanted her for a teacher. Instead, Jane Townsend--if she still went by that name--had enrolled in one of the Temple's own schools, succeeded, and climbed all the way to the top. "You are aware that your school is the only remaining separate institute for Gifted girls in all of Anglia?"

"So I've heard." She felt her scarf droop somewhat; annoyed, she raised her hand to her neck to fix it. "Is there a problem?"

Behind her glasses, the Head's eyes narrowed. "Frankly, yes."

Mrs. Boote caught her lip between her teeth as it curled inward. She had a lot of issues with the Council and how they ran the religious institute--their ruthless, controlling nature, their obsessive mess of bureaucratic red tape, their detailed gene tracking and their perceived need to breed Gifted girls and carriers to their bodies' limits--but she had always kept her mouth shut. At the very least, she had her school; at the very least, she could keep her own girls free of this ridiculous organization. "How so?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest with you, we have no way of knowing whether or not your curriculum meets our standards." The other five exchanged a series of knowing glances across the room, but the Head remained fixated on Mrs. Boote. "Back when there were more private institutes, we could take care of this problem with a little bit of paperwork, but now that only your school remains, you must understand that such a thing would be terribly inefficient. And of course, just taking your word for it is out of the question; you're a Gifted woman, Mrs. Boote, but you're getting up in years and set in your ways and for all we know, your teachings are archaic."

Set in my ways, am I? Mrs. Boote wanted to scream. This coming from a woman who dresses like some sort of sci-fi clone because of a decision made centuries before she was born? "I can assure you that everything I teach my girls is relevant to both Allora's teachings and today's world."

"That is only half the matter." The Head looked past Mrs. Boote and nodded to the Second on the other side of the room, a slouching, rat-like creature with slanted green eyes and a rare wedding band. "Ephrath?"

As Mrs. Boote turned around, the Second began to speak. "Mrs. Boote, we have discussed the matter quite thoroughly and we believe that you may be distorting the teachings."

Distorting the teachings? She felt a vein throb in her forehead; she didn't think she'd ever been so insulted. "The teachings are open to interpretation, and my intent is to make my girls aware of this."

"Open to interpretation though they may be, we can't have everyone going about learning different interpretations." The Head drummed her fingers across the arm of her chair, as if bored with explaining simple math to a small child; Mrs. Boote made a point to glower as she faced her once more. "Now that we are finally in an age of peace, we can't risk any foolish conflicts over interpretation; the world runs more smoothly if we all accept the same truth, you see, and the Empire agrees. You, Mrs. Boote--you are a dissenter, and we can't have a dissenter tainting the well-being of promising young girls."

"Promising young breeding stock, you mean." She sniffed as the Head's blue eyes bulged forth; had it not been her interpretation of the teachings that violence and intolerance were frowned upon, she might have set the woman aflame just then and there. "Look, I don't care to be lectured at like some idiot schoolgirl; if you're shutting my academy down, just come out and say it."

The Head scowled. "All right, then. We shall let you continue to the end of the school year; after that, however, your girls will have to transfer into one of our schools if they care to continue with their education. Their families will be reimbursed out of our own funds, of course--any concerns?"

Such idiocy was not even worth a reply. Mrs. Boote turned on her heel and stormed through the double doors, slamming them shut behind her. If they wanted to shut down her school, they could--they had the power to do so, and she could not deny them that--but they would not have her girls so long as she could help it.

And--by Allora's grace--they were fools if they thought they'd seen the last of Windsome Applegarth-Boote.

Next chapter: "The Unknown Caller"

Orbis Umbra: "The Ward"

2011-02-13T14:57:00.001-08:00

Title: "The Ward"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Pressured"

December 18, 3714

"So, what's it like living with your uncle?" Aurora had arrived about a half-hour prior, but the presence of Shae's little sisters had ruined all chance of a conversation; fortunately, she could always count on her dad to offer to take the girls off her hands for a while as soon as he got home. "It must be a nice house."

"It is." Shae raised an eyebrow. The girl was staying at the home of a billionaire and she wouldn't say anything more than that? Surely the house must have been something more impressive than 'nice'?

"That's all?"

"All right, really nice."

Another unsatisfying answer. "And...?"

Aurora shrugged. "And Uncle Everard is great too. He manages to balance letting me do what I want while still actually seeming to give a shit; not many adults can do that."

"But...?"

Annoyed, her friend rolled her eyes. "What makes you think there's a 'but'?"

"I don't know." Shae raised her hand to her face and picked at a hangnail. Shouldn't it have been obvious that she might have expected a more enthusiastic story from Everard Lox's ward? Girls who went from middle-class single parent households to schools such as Boote's to fucking mansions ought to have been more verbal about it--but she figured if Aurora didn't get that, there was no point mentioning it. "I've been spending too much time with my boyfriend's mother, I guess. There is a 'but', though?"

"Yes, there is." The other girl pressed her mouth to a line, her brow furrowing. There was something she wanted to say, but she didn't quite know how to say it. "There's this one room. It's always locked and I'm not allowed in it. Scorpio won't tell me what's in there, Sophie can't talk, and my uncle always changes the subject."

That was it? A big house and a rich uncle and that constituted a 'but'? "Aurora, people have secrets, you know."

"I know." She tossed back her blond curls and sighed, then glanced toward the door as if worried she might be overheard--never mind that Shae's father had taken Saffron and Season to the park and there was no one else who might have been in the house. "It's just... you know that feeling like there's something you really should know about?"

Next chapter: "The Dissenter"

Orbis Umbra: "The Pressured"

2011-02-02T00:44:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Pressured"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Evil Bitch"

December 17, 3714

"Naiara." Dammit, why couldn't Marcos just get off her back for once? All he'd done since she'd left the school was nag at her like a housewife in one of those unbearable old movies. "We need to talk."

She doubted that. There were only so many things he could ramble on about, and she'd heard them all by now: Get a job this and Quit smoking that, Watch the baby for a minute and For the love of God, just get over the fact that our sister is also my girlfriend! Asshole. Was he making a point to keep her good and pressured? "About what?"

Marcos sighed, then began in a low voice, "I want that friend of yours out of the house."

"Gwenaelle?" He nodded. Naiara dropped the spoon she'd been washing and turned to face him. "We've been over this; she's left the school, she doesn't really get along with her family, she has nowhere else to go."

Her brother glowered at her as she peered over his shoulder at Gwenaelle and Ofelia, who were laughing over something, like they'd been doing pretty often over the past while. "Besides, she and Ofelia seem to get along."

"And that's the problem!" Marcos hissed, a vein throbbing in his brow. "Look, I have nothing against Gwenaelle. She's not a total slob, she spends a lot of time out of the house--and really, she's kind of hot. Does she scare me a little when she makes half her hair fall out and grow back a different color or shoot extra fingers out of her hand? Sort of--but whatever. She's a nice kid, but I don't really feel great about her buddying up to Ofelia."

Naiara sniffed. "What, jealous?"

Her twin raised an eyebrow. "So I do have reason to be, then?"

"She's about as straight as a slinky, if that's what you mean--but for fuck's sake, don't worry about it." Not that telling him did any good. That figured. "Even if Ofelia was into that sort of thing, she's not exactly Gwenaelle's type."

"Well, good." And yet, he crossed his arms. "But aside from all that... well, we're not exactly drowning in space here, are we?"

She took a minute to consider. Of all the places she and Marcos and Ofelia had lived in, this one was by far the largest--this one, with its two bedrooms, one bathroom, and cramped kitchen-and-living area. For three, it had been fine; for two, when she'd been away at school, it must have been even better. But for four? And with the baby taking up one of the bedrooms? "I guess not."

"Exactly." A sad, faraway look in his eye, he quickly glanced back at Ofelia--laughing, playing, her curls bouncing about every which way. "Look, one of these days, I'm hoping we can afford a bigger place, but that's not happening any time soon. I mean, you're going to be on the couch for Allora knows how long if you end up staying, and I don't really want any guests taking up floor space."

She nodded; she hated when Marcos was right, but it happened from time to time. "Yeah, you're right.

"Look, how about this." She brushed back her hair and placed her hand on the surface of the counter. "I was going to go look for work in Anglia after the holidays; if Gwenaelle's still here at that time, I'll take her with me, and you and Ofelia and your inbred kid can have your happy little home back, all right?"

Her brother frowned, both displeased and reluctant--and yet, defeated. "Fine--but if she's not out of here by the minute the neighbors' tree goes down, you're the sole diaper patrol for the next month!"

Next chapter: "The Ward"

Orbis Umbra: "The Evil Bitch"

2011-01-18T01:06:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Evil Bitch"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Outsider"

December 15, 3714

Ursula's bedroom was not exactly how she had left it.

She had shared the room with her younger sister before going abroad, but in her absence, little Henriette and her love of all things pink and girly had assumed presentational dominance. Ursula hated pink--not to mention, dollhouses and flowery bedding and lacy curtains--but she had to grudgingly admit that the room was more Henriette's than hers now. She was only ever here for holidays and on the rare occasion that she could take a few days' leave from school, whereas the poor child had to live in this nightmare house year-round; if Henriette wanted a pink bedroom, then who was Ursula to protest?

Indeed, she had even swallowed her pride and started to work on a pink painting--all for her dear little sister. It was a good thing that Lisbeth had decided to stay in France for Christmas, really; Ursula would have never heard the end of it had she not.

Back in the days when Henriette was still little enough for the old nursery, Ursula had shared the room with her older sister instead. There had never been any disputes about decorating back then; they were both drab, studious girls who didn't give a rat's ass as to whether or not the walls had even been primed. Lucky Lisbeth, however, would never have to live in this house again. She would be making good money once she graduated from law school, and she would be getting married. Of course, it was only Hans the delivery boy--a stuttering, perverse weirdo whom Lisbeth had seduced with the intention of being caught--but it wasn't as if Ursula could begrudge her that. Indeed, she was annoyed that she hadn't thought of it first; everyone knew that Hans was partial to scrawny, cynical redheads, and as little as Ursula liked him, she would have fucked him senseless if it gave her another excuse to get the hell away from Thekla.

"Ursula!"

Speak of the devil.

Ursula took to gnawing on her tongue as her grandfather's evil bitch of a second wife invited herself into the room. She didn't have to turn around to see Thekla; she knew full-well that the woman was standing in the doorway, arms at her sides, long auburn hair in its perfect tails and a smirk on those silicone lips. Ursula's grip on the palette tightened; had she not prided herself on self-control, she might have flung the thing at the whore and watched in vengeful schadenfreude as she lost her head over the paints on her expensive silk gown. "What?"

"Were you in your grandfather's study?"

Ursula shrugged. "Perhaps I was--then again, perhaps I wasn't. I suppose you'll never know."

"None of your little games, Ursula." She shut the door and ventured further inward. Unfazed, Ursula glanced over her shoulder; there were people who could pull off a scowl, but Thekla was not one of them. Indeed, she scarcely looked the part of a villain, but Ursula new better than to take people at face value--unfortunately, her dear old grandfather never had. "You know that your grandfather doesn't allow you children to go into his study."

"Funny," Ursula sniffed, her eyes back on the canvas and her painting now considerably less of an eyesore. "He never seemed to mind until after he fell ill--and that was around the time you began calling the shots around here, was it not?"

That seemed to shut her up--for a minute, at any rate. "Have you seen your mother today? Perhaps your time would be better spent keeping her company."

"As a matter of fact, I have seen her." Ursula tilted back her head and allowed her glasses to slide back into place, then resumed painting; it was never easy to talk about her mother, but multitasking did help. "She seems to think I'm the nursemaid. She kept asking me if Emmerich and Lisbeth were down for their nap yet; apparently I don't exist today."

Impatient, Thekla tapped her foot against the floor, the hollow sound a shallow parody of an actual step--just like everything else in this house of ghosts. "Perhaps you might this afternoon."

"Perhaps, but forgive me for not wanting to go up there and risk being accused of fucking my own father." Her pressure on the brush strengthened, a spot on the canvas now noticeably more pink than the rest. "Maybe you ought to go in my stead. Surely you wouldn't mind such an idea; indeed, you and he would have made quite the pair. A pity he's dead, really--oh well, I suppose the two of you could always be together forever in hell?"

Her grandfather's wife responded with an irked clicking of her tongue. "Are you disgusting for the mere sake of being so, you filthy little witch?"

Ursula rolled her eyes. "Possibly, but there are worse things one can be."

The woman gave a disbelieving laugh, then turned on her heel and began to walk away, her skirt dragging across the floor with a curious, cacophonous swish. "You keep telling yourself that."

"Thekla."

The footsteps stopped. Ursula bit her lip and squinted at the canvas before her; it seemed that she had blinked, and the pink had become red. "I know what you're doing to him; I just need to find a way to prove it."

Silence. Then, a step. And another. And another. The doorknob turned and the hinges creaked. "I can't even imagine what you might be talking about."

Next chapter: "The Pressured"

Favors

2011-01-11T22:58:00.000-08:00

Sim Haven Monthly Challenge, January 2011
Write a short story based on the prompt "mask"

Title: "Favors"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Rated: PG-13 (just in case)
Word count: Approx. 1093
Warnings: Obscure use of prompt word, sexual situations, borderline cougar, mutually-parasitic relationship, partial male and female nudity
Classification: Ashelia Canon

Author's Note: This falls into the canon of my Ashelia series, but you do NOT need to have read that in order to understand the piece. This takes place five-ish years before the first installment, Ashelia at War (being non-committal about exact amount of time, because apparently I've forgotten my own story and can't be sure whether or not I've given any sense of how long ago this event took place). Anyway...

It wasn't his first visit Lady Kinea's bedchamber, and it wouldn't be the last.

It had been some months now since she'd first taken a liking to him. He didn't even know how she'd found him. He'd been breaking his back in the caverns as usual when out of the blue, one of the overseers had approached and told him that Lady Kinea--adviser and rumored lover to the King--had caught sight of him during a routine tour and had requested a word with him. As to what this might have been about, he hadn't a clue at the time... but who was a lowly slave to refuse the request of a great lady? He'd scrubbed up and arrived in her chambers, expecting something mundane like some praise for being a good worker or a scolding for the contrary.

Instead, he'd found her naked.

The soft swishing sound of a skirt against the floor heralded her emergence from behind the screens; like a puppet brought to life by the tug of its strings, Aurius was pulled upright. "My lady."

"Aurius." She squeezed her petite body through the gap between the couch and the screen and surveyed him with an expectant intensity. "Is that how a gentleman greets a noblewoman?"

Aurius swallowed back a groan, then hoisted himself to his feet and kissed her hand, then her cheek. Her other cheek. Her lips.

"Better." She grinned as only she could, satisfied yet indulgent, though he didn't doubt he'd soon be kissing her elsewhere. "But I have to tell you something: do you remember what I told you when we first met?"

He nodded; in truth, he'd wondered if she might have forgotten, but he hadn't dared voice that thought. He was still a slave, after all. "And you know that one of your overseers is leaving next week?"

Another nod. He thought he knew where this was going, but he didn't want to hold his breath; he'd forgotten over the years what it meant to be disappointed, but he didn't care to be reminded. "Well, seeing as I said I'd do you a favor..." She paused, as if to be sure he was listening--as if she might have thought he wasn't. "I pulled a few strings and now, you're going to be his replacement."

Aurius gaped at her. Yes, she'd said that she could get him and his sister out of slavery if he played his cards right. Yes, she'd promised that as long as he kept pleasing her, she'd make sure they never went hungry again. But this... "With all due respect, my lady... wouldn't it be a little dangerous for me to suddenly arrive in the caverns as an overseer?"

Kinea sniffed, the look in her eyes almost patronizing. How dumb did she think he was? Then again, he had been whoring himself out to her for months on end with nothing to show for it; maybe she had good reason to doubt his intelligence. "Follow me." She grabbed hold of his arm and led him to the other side of her room, as she inevitably did every time he called. This time, however, instead of shoving him onto the bed and tearing off her dress, she pulled open one of her drawers and began to fish around inside.

"Well, for one," she started, pulling out a pair of trousers and handing them to him, "the cavern administration is horribly disorganized and there are no reliable records of slaves, so I'd frankly be surprised if mention of your name caused any raised eyebrows among your former superiors. The security's tight, but if I were to summon you to the castle proper--which obviously I can do--they'd never notice if you failed to return so long as I claim otherwise."

Aurius kicked his old, sack-like garb to the side and pulled on the slacks; Kinea gave him a belt, then hiked up her skirt and pulled a knife from the lining of her boot. "So, I figure if I make you look like someone who matters and let you lay low here for the rest of the week, let you grow a little more scruff on that pretty face of yours and get rid of those dreadful bags under your eyes, no one will know the difference. Now, let your hair down; you could probably use a good trim."

He did as he was told. Kinea slipped behind him and took hold of a lock of his hair, then sliced it neatly with her blade. "These split ends are really something else, you know--not that I could expect much from a slave. We'll have to make sure you stay properly groomed."

"And where did a lady like you learn how to cut hair?" he asked as she worked her way from the back to the side, the skin of his neck feeling even more naked than it already was as clusters of dark hair fell to his feet.

"I believe I am entitled to my secrets--as are we all." She proceeded to his other side and finished there, efficient yet careful. "You'll have to keep that mark covered, you know; once a slave always a slave, as far as most are concerned. There's something special about you, though, and don't think I don't know it. Why would I have picked you otherwise?"

"Because I'm good-looking?" If he hadn't felt like a prostitute before, he certainly did now. But he had to do this--if there was any chance of making a better life for himself and his sister, he would take it, never mind what masks he had to don.

Kinea giggled. "That too, you darling boy! So good-looking, in fact, that you might even become Labor Master one day if you stay on my good side. What say you... Lord Aurius?"

She spun him around and leaned into him, leaving a trail of hungry kisses from the base of his neck to his earlobe. Her loose gown began to slip down her shoulders; trained dog that he was, he nudged it along further. "Just think--soon, you'll be a free man, and you'll be able to buy your sister's freedom as well."

His hand wandered downward from her shoulder to her breast, provoking from her a soft, pleasured gasp. "And I take it I'll have to repay you for all of it?"

The dress falling to her heels, she reached downward and unfastened his belt. "Keep doing what you're doing, love, and that should be payment enough."

Orbis Umbra: "The Outsider"

2011-01-09T23:51:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Outsider"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Scrooge"

December 12, 3714

Having finally unpacked Aurora's near-bottomless suitcase, Scorpio hoisted the empty bag into the wardrobe with its contents and shut the doors. It figured that he would be the one doing all the work while Lox and Aurora chattered on, really; it was the sort of job that Lox had created Sophie for, but Allora only knew how many crossed wires were in that damned robot.

But perhaps this was more fitting. It wasn't like he himself was anything more than a servant anyway.

"Anyway, darling, I hope you like your room," Lox finished after some long-winded tangent involving some disease he'd once picked up during a trip to some godforsaken island. "Personally, I find it a little monochromatic for my tastes, but Sophie insisted on decorating it herself. I just hope you like blue."

"I do like blue." Aurora glanced through the archway to the balcony; Scorpio couldn't see her face, but her hand always twitched a certain way when she smiled. "And I love the view. Thanks again, Uncle Everard."

Lox grinned back at her. "No trouble at all, my dear. Now, if there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask." Mad though he might have been, the man did have a way with misfit orphans. No one would have known that better than Scorpio did; it hadn't been all that long ago that he'd been the very archetype of a misfit orphan himself. Hell, who was he kidding? He was still the very archetype of a misfit orphan.

"If you say so." Aurora tossed back her curls and turned her head back toward her guardian. If Scorpio leaned back far enough, he could see her face--and an unfamiliar light in her eyes. It occurred to him just now that while he had seen her smile, he'd never seen her happy. He wasn't even sure he'd known what happiness looked like before. "But I'm sure I have everything I need."

"In that case, I should probably go feed Pumpernickel." Lox brushed past his niece, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he crossed the room. "I just hope his heads understand the concept of sharing; I've never had a three-headed cobra before, but I once had a double-ended python that ended up eating itself, and I don't care to go through that again."

Lox opened the door and paused, turning to Scorpio. Caught off-guard, he tried to grimace, but found himself to be in an even gloomier mood than usual. Maybe misery did love company--or no. Maybe misery hated happy company. "Achilles, would you like to stay for supper? I'm thinking ribs tonight."

"Thank you, but no." Scorpio pushed his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose and crossed his arms. "I have plans."

His employer laughed before stepping out into the corridor. "You're such a liar, Achilles--but I'm not sure I'd keep you around if you weren't."

And with that, he was off, the door shut behind him.

Aurora, meanwhile, had settled herself on the far side of the bed. She glanced up at Scorpio and gestured toward the empty space beside her. "If you're going to stay, you might as well sit."

Silent, Scorpio obeyed; he wasn't sure he wanted to, but he didn't think he could refuse her. Not when she was looking like all the things he'd never felt. "You seem calm today--sad, but calm."

"And you seem happy, but calm." Scorpio closed his eyes as he pulled his feet over the side of the mattress and leaned back against the headboard; it had been a long time since he'd lain on such a comfortable bed. "I suppose that would make sense, though, seeing as you're finally among family again."

"I guess so." She looked away for a moment, as if she thought her joy was contributing to his sorrow--which admittedly it was, but he wouldn't have thought she'd care. "Did your family make you happy? Back when you had one?"

As if he'd needed any more cause to feel like an outsider. "I never had one."

Quizzical, her gaze reverted back to him. Had he just pulled her from her oasis? He hadn't meant to--then again, maybe he had. "You can't have never had a family."

Scorpio shrugged; he might have scolded her for her naivete, but found he lacked the will to do so. "Well, I'm not saying I just appeared out of thin air, but you know what I mean. Lox found me when I was a few years younger than you are, and I don't care to discuss anything before that, but it certainly didn't involve any kind of 'family'."

"So if you don't have any family, is that why you don't like Christmas?" Her mouth was a smirk, but her eyes were of a completely different mind. Did she... feel sorry for him? The very thought sounded strange. And insulting. And yet, comforting. "Figure it's only a reminder of all the nice things you never had?"

He indulged her impish side with a brief snort of a laugh. "Don't psychoanalyze me--and no. I just don't really get it, to be honest; it's just another day."

"Oh." A flicker of shock surged throughout her face, but sure enough, another smile emerged. Why did she have to keep smiling like that? It was making him uncomfortable. "Well, if it doesn't matter to you, why don't you humor me and spend Christmas with me and Uncle Everard?"

Scorpio raised an eyebrow; never had he thought that Aurora Verchoux, of all people, would be inviting him for Christmas dinner. What had the world come to? Maybe Lox's doings had set it on the wrong course. "What?"

She didn't have to say another word. He'd never seen a more expressive pair of eyes.

Scorpio sighed and turned away. He didn't want to commit to anything, but somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that he already had. "I'll think about it."

Next chapter: "The Evil Bitch"

Orbis Umbra: "The Scrooge"

2010-12-25T00:37:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Scrooge"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Scientist"

December 12, 3714

"A perma-summer sphere?" The very phrase was alien in Aurora's mouth, but she supposed there was no reason to complain--she was, after all, wearing a bathing suit in December.

In the other corner of the hot tub, Scorpio nodded--not that she was paying his head much attention, considering the oddly distracting nature of his bare chest. "Your uncle invented it. One of his few useful creations, to be honest--yes, Sophie, you're useful too," he added as the robot glared at him from her Adirondack lounge. Really, Aurora couldn't decide what was stranger: a robot servant complete with a personality, or the idea of Scorpio in anything other than heavy black layers.

Eh, probably the robot. With Scorpio, at least the swim trunks beat the towel he'd been caught in at Lady Anetka's house... or did they? As much as she disliked him, she still had to admit that he was at least aesthetically pleasing; she wasn't quite sure she could say the same for Sophie, who seemed to have half-convinced herself that she was some sort of spoiled socialite teenager and dressed accordingly. What sort of self-respecting robot walked around in a blond wig and a pink bikini, for Allora's sake?

Then again, what sort of self-respecting Scorpio walked around without a shirt?

Then again, how much self-respect could a man like Scorpio have possibly had?

"Hey, kid--my face is up here."

Shit--she was busted. Hastily, she tilted her head upwards and grimaced. "Sorry?"

He didn't say anything; he just sort of stared at her, a bizarre expression on his face that she couldn't begin to fathom. She supposed she'd just have to change the subject. "So... what are you doing for the holidays?"

Scorpio sniffed, almost offended--what the hell? It wasn't as if she'd asked if he believed in Santa. "Nothing."

Nothing. The word hovered about for a moment before falling to the floor and shattering like a dropped wine glass. He couldn't have really meant that... could he? "Don't you have a family?"

"No." His answer was neither bitter nor spiteful--it just was. Aurora wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

"Friends, then?"

Unfeeling as before, he shook his head. "Frankly, I don't much care for holidays--or company."

That was interesting; Aurora drummed her submerged fingers against her knee and smirked. "Then why are you still here, you big Scrooge? No one's stopping you from leaving."

Silence--she had him there.

In a moment of rare sheepishness, Scorpio ran his hand through his hair and glanced toward the sky; it was ironic that he might have actually needed those damn sunglasses just then. "Uh, well... I don't think it would be responsible of me to leave before your uncle returns."

Aurora shrugged. "I don't buy it--I'm old enough to take care of myself, you know. Besides, Sophie's here."

"Yeah, well, Sophie's useless."

The robot held up her hand and flashed Scorpio her middle finger. Aurora grinned; maybe the pile of scrap metal might just grow on her after all. "I can't say I quite--"

"Sophie!" The interrupting voice rang from the front gate. "Sophie, where are you? I need your help with this three-headed cobra!"

Her knees creaking as she sprang to her feet, the robot was quick to run off... in the opposite direction.

Scorpio sighed, then heaved himself to his feet and climbed out of the hot tub. "Well, Miss Verchoux... that would be your uncle."

Next chapter: "The Outsider"

Orbis Umbra: "The Scientist"

2010-12-18T01:40:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Scientist"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Abandoned"

August 12, 3693

Just as she'd told him--whenever she'd said it--there she was, playing chess by herself in that park Lox knew better as an insurance firm. In spite of the years, she was much as he remembered; plain, yet inexplicably ethereal, magnetic regardless of her solitude. She was far from the only blue-eyed blond in the world, and not of an uncommon build or features, but she would have stood out even amidst a thousand of her own clones.

Yes--yes, it was definitely her. He pried his form from the fence and proceeded down the stairs. "Miss Frost?"

Startled, she took her hand from the pawn and looked up at him, her both raised and furrowed as only Salome could manage. "Sorry, but have we met?"

"Arguably." He made his way to her table and gestured to the empty seat across from her. "Might I join you?"

Salome replied with a puzzled grimace. "It's a public place, is it not?"

A classic Salome response, he noted as he slid onto the bench. Salome brushed her pieces back into place, then reached across and did the same with Lox's. "You start."

"Fair enough, but I'll have you know I'm rather horrible." He picked the pawn in front of his king and moved it forward two spaces... or was it the pawn in front of his queen? The manufacturers really should have made the two more distinguishable somehow--given the queen some titties or something. "Anyway, my name is Everard Lox. I'm a scientist based in Whittlesey."

"I see."

She took a minute to consider her move, eventually settling on the pawn in front of her bishop. "And what brings you to Scarborough, Mr. Lox--or would that Dr. Lox?"

"Either or." He flashed her a quick smile, then nudged another chess-piece at random. "Anyway, I'm just here on as a favor to my brother-in-law. I'm helping him move into his new place; he's a Franconian, and he'll probably be back over there in a few years or so, but he's on a commission with the library at your temple here. A brilliant archivist, he is."

"You don't say?" She cast a sweeping glance over the board and proceeded with her turn. "I'm often at the temple library."

Lox smirked. He probably seemed like a creep, but he wasn't sure he cared--everything turned out well enough in the end, after all. "I know. Anyway, Salome..."

He picked up his pawn and moved it diagonally, capturing the piece she had just moved. "...I seem to recall you being somewhat better at this game."

He reclined in his seat and waited in smug comfort. Undaunted, she winked at him, then promptly knocked out the piece with which he'd launched his attack seconds before.

"Who's to say I'm not?"

How had he not seen that one coming? This was why Lox didn't play this game; too damn easy to get cocky and then bucked from your high horse. "Granted." He pulled the compressed hourglass from his pocket and gave it a quick, practiced glance; he didn't need to linger much longer. "You know, I do believe I'd best be going--that and you probably don't care to see how sore of a loser I am."

Salome shrugged, then gathered up the pieces and returned them to the hollow compartment beneath the board. "Not as if you were in any sort of tight spot, but if you insist. Perhaps we'll start this game over should we ever meet again."

"Oh, we will." Lox pressed his hands to the surface and pulled himself to his feet. "It was nice seeing you again, Miss Frost."

A skeptical glint in her eye, Salome followed suit. "You're sure we've met before, Mr. Lox?"

"As I said--arguably." He shot her a wide grin, which was returned after a moment of consideration. "Anyway, take care of yourself--and next time you're in the temple library, do ask for my brother-in-law. His name is Rainier Verchoux; I have a feeling you might find him rather interesting."

"Rainier Verchoux?" As always, she butchered the name with her complete lack of an accent--at least Rainier himself would find it charming. "I don't believe I could forget a name like that."

Next chapter: "The Scrooge"

Orbis Umbra: "The Abandoned"

2010-12-09T19:46:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Abandoned"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: The Boote Files - III

December 11, 3714

"Oh goodness!" Caomhe pressed her hands to her head and turned away, little though it did to slow her startled heart. Of all the days to have gone to and from her bath in only her undergarments! She'd figured she would be fine, since both of her roommates had left earlier in the week and the only other student left had retired early with a headache, but it seemed that she would pay dearly for her lapse in caution. Who was this person? A rapist? A murderer? Oh heavens--surely not both?

But the stranger laughed--unashamedly, almost adoringly. "Relax, babe--it's just me." Caomhe raised an eyebrow; she knew that voice. "Wow, fresh from the tub and in your underwear? Must be my lucky night."

Scandalized, Caomhe kicked the door shut behind her. "Gwen! What did you do to your hair? It's all... purple."

Gwenaelle shrugged, her mouth bearing that sly smile she made a point to hide from the rest of the world. "Oh, I just sort of willed it this color. Do you like it? Naiara showed me how to do self body modifications; if you think this is awesome, just wait until you see the tattoo on my ass."

It was a typical Gwenaelle thing to say--more for the purpose of making Caomhe blush than anything else. Sometimes she thought it might have been nice to have some more mild-mannered friends, but Caomhe's authoritarian grandmother had instilled in her such a sense of paranoia that it was practically a miracle that she'd managed to make the one. "Mrs. Boote will kill you if she sees your hair like that."

"She won't see it like this." She slipped off the bed and strode toward the more comfortable chair, plunking herself down with an unladylike leap. "She thinks I left for my grandparents' estate this afternoon--just like you did until just now, I'm sure."

Caomhe sighed. "Gwen..."

"Oh, but I'm not going there," her friend continued, her grin more dazzling than any Caomhe had seen before, "and I won't be coming back here either. I have no plans to ever see Boote again--or my parents, or my grandparents, or any of them."

"Them?" Her formerly rapid heartbeat ground to a sudden halt. 'They' must have meant everyone involved in Gwenaelle's upbringing--or perhaps 'they' meant everyone in her life? Was she one of 'them'? She couldn't be... No. Gwenaelle was her friend--her only friend. What would become of her if she left?

"Yep." Gwenaelle raised her hand to her face and flicked a lock of purple hair forward. "I'm sick of playing along with their stupid little games like some sort of puppet. Fuck this--I just want to live, you know? See the world. Try different shit. Have a ton of sex. None of this prancing around like some stupid little show pony anymore; I'm just going to disappear and start fresh somewhere."

"Oh." So that was it--she wanted a clean break. Caomhe was effectively abandoned. "Well... good luck, I guess."

Gwenaelle rose to her feet and tossed back her head, neon hair flying back toward her ear. "Thanks, babe. Who knows? Maybe I'll get a chance to do something even crazier with my hair; shave half of it off or something, I don't know. Or maybe I should try growing a beard--a pink beard! Wouldn't that be fucking hilarious?"

She shrugged and turned away; she didn't want to look her in the eye just then. "I guess so..."

"Hey."

Gwenaelle stepped behind her and wrapped her arms around her exposed, shivering body. Caomhe watched as her friend's fingers curved around her wrist, stroking gently upwards and downwards as if attempting to soothe her. "Don't think I'm leaving you to rot here. I'm just going to go and do my own thing for a while--never had a chance to do that, you know? If you want, I'll come back for you at some point, okay?"

Caomhe bit her lip. "Gwenaelle..."

Gwenaelle placed her hand's on Caomhe's shoulders and slowly spun her about so that they were face to face. "Look, I'm not leaving you--not if you don't want me to. Do you want me to come back for you?" Their eyes locked, Gwenaelle's gaze firm and unblinking, not about to let the question go unanswered. Swallowing, Caomhe nodded; she didn't want to think there was a chance she'd never see her only friend again.

"Good--it's settled, then." She pressed a lingering kiss to Caomhe's cheek, then stepped back and smiled. "You be a good girl for me while I'm gone; no more traipsing around in your underwear and whatnot, all right?"

Caomhe didn't respond. Amused, Gwenaelle winked at her--then, just as unexpectedly as she'd appeared, she made a break for the door and left.

Next chapter: "The Scientist"

The Boote Files: Naiara Capello

2010-11-30T10:19:00.000-08:00

FROM THE FILES OF WINDSOME APPLEGARTH-BOOTE

Previous chapter: "The Vulture"

Name: Naiara Lourdes Capello
Date of Birth: January 8, 3698 (age 16)
Place of Birth: Barcelona, Catalonia, Hispania
Nationality: Spanish
Socio-Economic Class: Lower
Hair: Black
Eyes: Black
Physique: Slender
Notable Family: Rolando Ignacio Capello (father; deceased), Diana Fortunata Viteri-Capello (mother; deceased), Marcos Enrique Capello (twin brother), Ofelia Terese Capello (younger sister), Lourdes Diana Capello (niece)
Other Connections: ?

Handedness: Left
IQ Test Score: 168
MBTI Score: INTP
Star Sign: Capricorn
Academic Ranking: 1st of 7

Notes:
Middle child of two washed-up remnants of the Spanish nobility. Both parents died when the girl was a child; she and her siblings live in cyclical degrees of poverty. Brother earns income by various illicit means--smuggling, pick-pocketing, drug dealing, etc. Younger sister recently had a baby (father unknown). Student used to work as a prostitute; was found in Barcelona alley, using her power to get revenge on a man who hadn't paid her. Admitted on full scholarship, set to expire on her seventeenth birthday.

Mother and extended family show no signs of Gifts, though she and husband were both evidently carriers. Sister has also avoided the Gifts, but both she and the brother may be carry the gene.

A bit of a loner, but seems to get along with the other girls if interaction is necessary. Performs exceedingly well in her studies.

Verdict: perhaps one of the most powerful girls I have ever taught. A pity about the financial situation.

--W.C.B.

Approved as of November 18, 3714

Next chapter: "The Abandoned"

Orbis Umbra: "The Vulture"

2010-11-22T17:17:00.000-08:00

Title: "The Vulture"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Roommate"

November 18, 3714

Mrs. Boote's unrelenting gaze swept over Aurora like an icy Northern breeze. She might have shivered had she not felt it crucial to keep her movements in check; Mrs. Boote did not condone unnecessary action of any kind. "You wanted to see me, Mrs. Boote?"

The headmistress sniffed. Aurora took this as a good sign--she'd yet to find anything to criticize. "That I did, Miss Verchoux. Would you care for some tea?"

Was that a trick question? It had to be. If she said no, then she was rude; if she said yes, she was presumptuous. "Err... only if you'll be having some as well, thank you."

The headmistress stiffened, her heavy lids making sharp eclipses of her eyes--had she said something wrong, perhaps? "Very well, then. Anyway, I take it that you'll be spending Christmas with your uncle?"

Aurora frowned. That seemed like an unusual thing to ask during a one-on-one meeting. Did she do this with all of the girls? If she didn't, why hadn't Shae said so when Ursula had shown up? Was it some sort of late hazing ritual?

"Miss Verchoux? I believe I asked you a question."

Shit! "Yes, I am spending Christmas with my uncle," she answered hastily, trying to make up for what Mrs. Boote surely deemed a loss of time. "Might I ask why you might inquire?"

The older woman looked her over once again, somehow reminding Aurora of a great steel-eyed vulture circling its prey. "No reason. I just wanted to make sure you had somewhere to go--I am aware, after all, that your uncle is not among the most attentive of legal guardians. I trust Mr. Scorpio will be picking you up on the last day of term?"

Aurora shrugged, only to remember a second too late how Mrs. Boote hated shrugs. "Well, I mean... I would assume so. Why?"

She watched as the headmistress lingered in her statuesque state, broken only by a slight twitch in her finger. Then, with the slow, fluid motion of a confident predator, she turned her head and spoke. "Aurora, I'm willing to make you a little deal. I shall give you passing grades in all of your classes if you can find out exactly what it is that your uncle is planning."

Next chapter: The Boote Files - III

Orbis Umbra: "The Roommate"

2010-11-16T19:05:00.001-08:00

Title: "The Roommate"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Meddler"

November 18, 3714

"My God!" Shae closed the door behind her, shaking her head at the sight of Aurora's lazy form atop the bed. "No wonder your grades are horrible--you're always up here, doing absolutely nothing!"

Aurora shrugged. "Hey, I tried at the beginning; we both know that my grades are horrible because I'm just not Gifted. Besides, Scorpio had a talk with Boote and made sure that I was here to stay, so I'm not even going to bother trying anymore."

It wasn't a virtuous response, but it seemed reasonable enough; satisfied, Shae turned around and sank onto her own bed. "What are you doing for the holidays?"

"I don't know--just going to my uncle's, I guess." Aurora's response might as well have been applied to a selection of entrees. "What's everyone else doing?"

"Well, I know Naiara won't be coming back after New Year's--scholarship problem." She almost wanted to hurl at the sound of her own words; it was one thing to know of such a fact, but it was something else entirely to admit it.

Shocked, Aurora raised an eyebrow. "How is that possible? She's the best student Boote has! Can't she extend it until summer?"

Shae shook her head, resigned. Naiara was not as close a friend as Imani or Aurora, but that didn't mean she wouldn't miss her--you couldn't spend a few incident-free years as someone's roommate without becoming at least somewhat attached. "Boote's scholarship policy states that you're only eligible until you're seventeen. Naiara's birthday is in January, and she can't cover the rest of her tuition."

"But she's so smart--and so Gifted! Can't Boote make an ex--"

"No." She elbowed her pillow upwards and sighed. "Boote's not exactly a fan of Naiara, if you haven't noticed."

Nodding, Aurora folded her hands and stretched them in front of her, cracking her knuckles. It was an annoying habit of hers, but for some bizarre reason, Shae had a feeling she'd miss that regular popping sound over the course of the holidays. "I guess you're right. Seems like a waste, though--someone like Naiara has to leave while useless old me gets to stay."

"If I know Boote, she wouldn't keep you around if you weren't good for something." She'd meant to be reassuring, but her friend's features only fell. If only she could have told her what that something was--if only she could have made Aurora understand that there had to have been some reason for her presence here other than her uncle's money and her mother's mysterious legacy. "Anyway, I know I'm glad you're here."

Aurora turned to face her, a small smile forming on her lips. "Really?"

Shae pulled herself to her feet and returned the grin. "Really. I don't care if you're Gifted or not--you're my friend."

The other girl's eyes swelled into wide orbs of starry blue. "Aww, thanks, Shae."

"Just telling the truth." She caught sight of Aurora's suitcase under her bed, then clasped her hands together. "Hey! You'll come and visit me over the break, right?"

Aurora beamed. "You can count on it."

"Awesome!"

Someone knocked at the door; the pair of them exchanged a quick glance. Neither of their roommates would have bothered to knock, and Mrs. Boote would have announced herself. t must have been one of the other three girls; Shae hoped it was Imani. "Yes?"

To her dismay, however, it was Ursula.

"Look, I'm sorry to rain in on this little love-fest," the redhead sneered as her eyes flickered between the two of them, "but Aurora, Mrs. Boote wants to see you in the parlor--now."

Next chapter: "The Vulture"

Orbis Umbra: "The Meddler"

2010-11-08T09:18:00.001-08:00

Title: "The Meddler"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Eavesdropper"

November 4, 3714

Upon arriving at the Lox Estate, Windsome Applegarth-Boote had yet to encounter a single article that impressed her; it seemed that Mr. Lox himself would prove to be no exception. "Mr. Lox, is that your housecoat?"

Lox answered with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. "Well, I'm in my house, and it's a little cold. What alternative would you suggest I wear instead, Mrs. Boote?"

"A sweater, perhaps?" she sneered, a serious response to his sarcastic question. "Or a suit-jacket? Never wear in the presence of company what you would not wear in public."

Aurora's uncle chuckled. "My dear madame, not only would I wear a housecoat in public, but I assure you that I have done so in the past. Anyway, I presume that Sophie has made you feel welcome?"

"Sophie?" Mrs. Boote arched her brow, her opinion of the man decreasing by the second. She'd heard he was an eccentric, but she was beginning to think that a stronger word ought to have been coined for the sole purpose of describing him--unless, perhaps, the word she was looking for was simply 'mad'. "You mean that bucket of scrap metal has a name?"

Lox nodded. "Of course she does; she's my housekeeper. How do you think I would call her without a name? Besides, just because she's a robot doesn't mean she doesn't have personality--surely you didn't miss that detail?"

"No, but I do wish I had," she replied with a shudder. "Anyway, I'm a very busy woman on the tail-end of a hectic trip, and I did not arrive here with the intention of discussing your homemade help."

"Alas, no one ever does, but they inevitably do so anyway." He made his way to his desk and grabbed a hold of his chair, squeezing it through the gap by the fireplace and setting it down directly across from her. "What can I do you for, Mrs. Boote?"

Mrs. Boote frowned. If her visions had been correct, then he was a fool to ask this. "I shall be brief, Mr. Lox; I don't want you meddling in anything."

"Meddling." The twitch of his brow betrayed his understanding. "My dear lady, I realize that you are one of the most Gifted women alive and I can appreciate your talents, but you must believe me when I say that what I do can hardly be called 'meddling'."

"Don't spit on my cake and tell me it's frosting." She adjusted her form against the unsupportive pillows of the makeshift couch and glowered. "What you do is meddling by definition."

Lox shrugged. "Call me a meddler, then--but with all due respect, I am a scientist. Don't you think I consider the physics beforehand? In all my years' work, I've yet to disrupt the order of the universe."

"And how could you know for sure?" Smiling, he reached back to his desk and pointed to the hourglass sitting next to the computer; Mrs. Boote was not amused. "That is an hourglass, Mr. Lox."

"Indeed it is," he agreed, "but it has other uses. This one here keeps the world from folding in on itself by distinguishing for me what is meddling and what is necessary."

This didn't make any sense. "It's an hourglass."

"To you, perhaps that is all it ever will be." By chance, the ruffle of his shirt fell into a respectable position; annoyed, Lox swiped it back into disarray and sighed. "But you are a Lady of Allora, and I realize that you don't take much stock in such things; after all, the rift between science and the church did not begin with the two of us."

Mrs. Boote narrowed her eyes as her lip curled over her teeth. "Mr. Lox, I am not sure that what you do can be given the name of 'science'."

"Well, if you find a better name for it, then you'll have to let me know."

"I do have a better name for it--meddling."

Lox pushed his unrestrained mess of bangs out of his face and shook his head. "Mrs. Boote, has it occured to you that some of my... 'meddling', as you put it, may indeed be essential to the very fabric of our existence?"

"Frankly, no." She knew it was unladylike, but she couldn't resist putting her hand to her hip and rubbing; this crisp November air was really no good for the old joints. "I believe that everything is the way Allora intends for it to be, regardless of meddlers such as yourself."

"Then I don't see why you have any reason to fear my meddling."

She opened her mouth to rebut, but reconsidered her argument. Gradual reason, it seemed, had no effect on this man; she would have to get straight to the point. "Your niece's life could very well be in danger, Mr. Lox."

"A fact of which I am painfully aware," he assured her, "but we are both doing our part to keep her safe--at least, in so far as I can make assumptions about you."

"I know for a fact that what I am doing for the girl is in her best interest." She placed her hands on her knees and hoisted herself upright; she was not so decrepit that she needed help to stand. "You, on the other hand, cannot know whether or not you've helped her until it's too late. Perhaps that is the difference between you and me."

Lox arched his brows and laughed dryly. "Actually, Mrs. Boote, I believe the difference between you and me is that I can determine my place in the order of the universe with an hourglass."

Next chapter: "The Roommate"

Orbis Umbra: "The Eavesdropper"

2010-10-28T23:26:00.001-07:00

Title: "The Eavesdropper"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Difficult"

November 4, 3714

Tap, tap, tap... Caomhe's incessant drumming of her fingers against her knees was beginning to get on Imani's nerves. For all she knew, Mrs. Boote would be back in the morning; if she and the others were going to withstand her barrage of scoldings, they would need their sleep. "Go to bed, Caomhe."

Caomhe kept on tapping. An additional disturbance graced Imani's ears as Ursula tossed in her bed, likely also desperate for the sweet reprieve of slumber. "Caomhe..."

The other girl whimpered. The room was brightened only be whatever stray lights passed through the windows, but Imani could tell that Caomhe was shivering. "We're going to be in so much trouble when Boote gets back."

"Yes, and you'll need your strength to deal with it," Imani agreed. "Seriously, go to bed."

Caomhe shook her head. "I can't sleep."

"Just try."

"I can't."

Of all the inconvenient times for timid little Caomhe to start being willful! Imani kicked back her blankets and sighed; in the room's opposite corner, Ursula pulled her pillow over her head and wrapped it around her ears. "Is there any way I can make you go to bed? Do you want some warm milk or something? I'll sneak down to the kitchen and get you some, if you like."

The girl only sank further into her chair. "I don't want milk."

"A piece of fruit, then?"

Tap. "No..."

Goddess, this was frustrating; if Imani had the energy, she might have had the urge to throttle the kid. "What do you want, then?"

She didn't answer immediately. She clasped her hands together and squirmed in frightened discomfort. "We're going to be in so much troub--"

"Shut up."

Silent, both of them turned their heads to see Ursula rise, not unlike a vampiress might have ascended from the depths of her coffin. "Yes, you're going to be in trouble whenever Mrs. Boote gets back. You know it, Imani knows it, and Allora knows I know it, so just shut up already!"

Imani raised an eyebrow. Ursula normally had a peculiar way of being both blunt and subtle at once, but there was no subtlety here. "Ursula, if she didn't listen before..." The redhead didn't seem to be paying attention, so she trailed off. How had she had such horrible luck with roommates? Of any pair of girls she could have been stuck with, why these two?

Caomhe bowed her head and twiddled her thumbs. "I just want everything to be all right..."

With the fluid grace of some mythical enchantress, Ursula flicked on the light and stepped toward her seated roommate. Why she'd bothered with the lamp, Imani couldn't tell; as if she needed the extra light, with her solar hair and lunar flesh. "Caomhe, I'm going to tell you a little story, and believe me when I say that you'll never forget it."

Imani propped up her pillow and reclined upon her bed. She had a feeling that she had just been relegated to the role of an eavesdropper.

"Once upon a time," Ursula began, her voice a patronizing shadow of maternal warmth, "there was a princess. She lived with her father the king in the most splendid castle in all the land. She was beautiful and charming and everybody loved her--unfortunately, she was also stupid."

At the word 'unfortunately', Caomhe's eyes widened; surely she must have figured this wasn't going to be a happy story. "Go on..."

Her fist clenched at her side, Ursula continued the story, that sickly sweet voice so unbecoming of her still present. "Now, near the castle, there lived a very wicked man; he was a disgraced nobleman in need of a way to cater to his costly tastes such as spirits and gambling and prostitutes. One day, he happened across the princess and learned that she was not only beautiful, but very wealthy--and very, very stupid."

Her other hand had also balled itself into a firm force, her knuckles so pale they nearly glowed. Had Caomhe noticed? Imani somehow doubted it. Regardless, Ursula seemed to remain otherwise calm. "The wicked man was clever, as well as handsome, and it didn't take him long to complete his seduction of the princess. She fell pregnant, just as he had planned; to trick both the princess and the king into thinking he loved her, he married her."

Caomhe's face was that of a child who was beginning to understand that there was no Santa Claus. Imani wondered what she might have been hoping for--some dashing knight on a white horse, perhaps, charging forth to save the beautiful, stupid princess. "Then what happened?"

Ursula stretched her arms in front of her and cracked her knuckles with such a snap! that Imani nearly sprang backwards into the wall. The room seemed a little colder now. "They had five children and the wicked man, having squandered away all the money the king would allow him, left while she was still pregnant with the last of them. She was driven insane and--to this very day--she is confined to her tower, afraid, alone, confused."

She paused for a minute, turning her head just enough so that Imani could see a hint of her scowl. What was this? Ursula never scowled; save to speak, Ursula's mouth hardly moved at all. "Some years later, the wicked man got piss-drunk one rainy night and drowned in a ditch; his corpse was found by a beggar a couple days later, who cleaned out whatever chump change was left in his pockets and dragged the body to the morgue with an old segment of a barbed-wire fence. The two youngest children still live with the king, now old and ailing, and his gold-digging whore of a new queen. The elder three all left, the first to pursue a career in show business and the other two for educational pursuits--far, far away."

Caomhe pouted as she waited for the rest of the story. Maybe she was hoping for a follow-up, some sort of happily ever after; if that was the case, Ursula would take those wishes in her pale hands and crush them to a fine powder. "The End."

"That's it?" demanded Caomhe; a bit of her naive innocence was about to die, Imani was sure of it. "That's the end? What was the point of that story?"

Ursula turned away and headed back toward her bed. "The point is that life is shit. Stop whining and go to bed."

Next chapter: "The Meddler"

Orbis Umbra: "The Difficult"

2010-10-22T16:00:00.001-07:00

Title: "The Difficult"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: The Boote Files - II

November 3, 3714

"What the hell were you thinking?" Scorpio's patience was wearing thin. He wanted nothing more than to be on his way and to leave the girls at the mercy of Mrs. Boote, but as his ill fortune would have it, the old bat was out of town. Instead, Aurora and her classmates had been punished with a lengthy, yet altogether light scolding from Boote's spinster daughter--not nearly harsh enough given Aurora's particular situation. He'd felt compelled to stay for the duration of the lecture, then waited for the other girls to leave and requested a word with Aurora in private. Much to the kid's chagrin, her teacher had agreed and left the two of them alone. "Your mother wanted you in this school for the sake of your own safety, you know--is this how you want to repay her for her consideration?"

Aurora rolled her eyes. "It's not like we were wandering around the back alleys of some sketchy city! We were in Cheshire--at a friend's mother's house! You're blowing this way out of proportion!"

"Am I?" he hissed through gritted teeth. "I understand that you are being kept in the dark about a great number of things, Miss Verchoux, but you have to believe me when I say that you are here for your own protection. If certain people were to find out who your mother was, then--"

"Well, good thing I don't go broadcasting my life story to everyone I meet, then!" she spat in response, the bitterness of her tone contorting her mouth in ways he had not thought possible of those full lips. "We didn't talk to anyone on the train, and the only person I mentioned my mother to was Lady Anetka!"

Scorpio sighed. "Anna Beckett--or 'Lady Anetka', as you indulgently call her--is a washed-up wreck of a medium whose excessive hedonistic behavior has reduced her to reading palms for chump change! I wouldn't be surprised if she was willing to trade your whereabouts to the Empire for an eight-ball of cocaine!"

To his great shock, she began to laugh. True, she was difficult enough that he wouldn't have expected an outright apology, but laughter? "The Empire wants me?"

Noticing that his sunglasses had began to slip down his nose, his pushed them back into place and frowned. "I've said too much."

"Indeed." She tossed her golden curls over her shoulder and studied him with a teasing smile. "Anyway, if you really have such a low opinion of Mrs. Beckett, then why are you sleeping with her, Kilos?"

"Frankly, I don't see how that's any of your business," he snarled, still privately enraged that Aurora Verchoux now had some knowledge about his sex life, "and don't call me that. Why are we even talking about this?"

Aurora shrugged. "I don't know. I just never figured you were a manwhore."

"I am not a--you know what? Just forget it." He crossed his arms and scowled. "Just don't pull any more stunts like this one, all right? Long story short, if anything had happened to you, your uncle would have had my head on a silver platter."

Silenced, Aurora swayed backward slightly, then blinked. "My uncle doesn't care about me."

Scorpio raised an eyebrow. "Don't be ridiculous--of course he does."

"What has he done to show it? He hasn't even bothered to visit me since before my mother died."

Shaking his head, Scorpio stepped toward her and rested his hand upon her arm. There was little he was at liberty to tell her about Lox, and even less that he could say to make her feel better--but for some inexplicable reason, he felt the need to say something. "Aurora, why do you think your uncle would want me keeping an eye on you if he didn't care? Why do you think he would have bribed Boote to accept you into this school if he didn't care?"

"So he didn't have to watch me himself, but still felt like a competent guardian?" Her answer was complete and automatic, as if she had spent many a moment pondering it before.

Scorpio sighed. "Aurora..."

She scarcely moved save for her eyes, which flickered toward his with the utmost finesse. If her eyes had been so startling from the day she'd been born, then he could see why her parents had named her so. "What?"

"Mr. Lox is... well, he's a busy man," he began, though he had likely told her that before, "and he has a habit of offending all the wrong people, so he's gained a number of enemies over the years. He has a reputation that's bound to get him into trouble one of these days, so he doesn't leave home unless it's absolutely necessary. His heart is in the right place, however; you'll see him at Christmas, and then you'll know that he does care about you."

Aurora sniffed--whether out of skepticism or sensitivity, Scorpio couldn't tell. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he promised, taking hold of her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "In the meantime, just try to stay out of trouble, all right?"

Next chapter: "The Eavesdropper"

The Boote Files: Shaelyn Whitaker

2010-10-15T00:24:00.000-07:00

FROM THE FILES OF WINDSOME APPLEGARTH-BOOTE

Previous chapter: "The Uninformed"

Name: Shaelyn Gabrielle Whitaker
Date of Birth: October 26, 3698 (age 16)
Place of Birth: Tynemouth, Northumberland, Anglia
Nationality: Anglian
Socioeconomic Class: Lower-middle
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Hazel
Physique: Scrawny
Notable Family: Carlton Daniel Whitaker (father), Meredith Cordelia Tolfield-Whitaker (mother; deceased), Saffron Paulina Whitaker (younger sister), Season Laurel Whitaker (younger sister)
Other Connections: Wesley Harrison Bradford (boyfriend)

Handedness: Right
IQ Test Score: 121
MB-TI Score: ENFP
Star Sign: Scorpio
Academic Ranking: 4th of 7

Notes:
Eldest daughter of former student Meredith Tolfield. Widower father; mother died of a mysterious illness in 3711. Father works around the clock to support daughters, student was admitted on partial scholarship.

Both sides of family show some traces of Gifts. Middle sister also seems to have inherited some power, though not to the same extent. Boyfriend's family also shows signs of Gifts, most notably his aunt and cousin.

Gets along well with the other girls in general. Performs well in her studies and excels in athletics.

Overall, nothing unheard of, but nothing too disappointing either. The girl does have potential, even if not to the same extent as some of her more Gifted peers.

--W.C.B.

Approved as of November 3, 3714

Next chapter: "The Difficult"

Orbis Umbra: "The Uninformed"

2010-10-09T02:14:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Uninformed"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Alter Ego"

November 3, 3714

True to her word, Gwenaelle had left immediately after pointing out the house, Caomhe in tow. With the fuss she had been making, Aurora might have guessed that Mrs. Beckett lived in some horrible dump of a slum that her daughter wouldn't have been caught dead near, but it turned out to be a perfectly fine house in an immaculate neighborhood--from the outside, at any rate. Its atmosphere was not quite so prim, the girls realized as soon as they walked up the front steps.

Lady Anetka Elena Lorenzia--Medium, Oracle, Enchantress. Business hours: Monday through Friday, 11 AM to Midnight. Aurora doubted the houses on either sides bore similar signs. In any case, when they'd knocked, Aurora had expected to be greeted by a maid or a butler--certainly not an exotic, shirtless young man with a most distracting set of abs. Between the girls' dumbstruck staring and the servant's limited grasp of the Anglian language, several minutes had passed before they were finally ushered into the parlor. Even more ticked by before Mrs. Beckett--otherwise known as Lady Anetka--made her entrance from the upper level.

By that point, Aurora had been expecting an eccentric, and Lady Anetka did not disappoint. She wore what appeared to be a beaded nightgown and her golden hair hung loose and untamed, as if she'd been pulled from some sort of strenuous activity and hadn't had time to dress properly. She spoke with a forcedly faraway voice and her lilac eyes, though intense and piercing, seemed reluctant to linger. "So. You are Gwenaelle's friends from school, then?"

Shae nodded. "I'm Shaelyn Whitaker, and these two are Aurora Verchoux and Imani van Haanrade."

"Pleasure." Lady Anetka reclined slightly in her seat and glanced over the girls' heads to the foyer entrance. "Eduardo?" she called to the shirtless servant. "I have a guest upstairs; tell him he may help himself to anything in the fridge."

Aurora turned her head and watched as the young man made his way up the stairs. She knew it was rude to stare, but with a body like that...

"Nice, isn't he?" mused Lady Anetka, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "You should hear the story of how I met him--but I take it that's not why you're here. Care for a reading? Or a look in the orb, perhaps?"

Aurora shared a quick glance with Shae, then another with Imani. "Actually, Lady Anetka, we were wondering if you might have known either my mother or Shae's. They're both dead, but all three of you went to Boote's school at some point."

Lady Anetka took a moment to look her over. "Now that you mention it, you do look a little familiar--of course, that could just be the opium talking. What was your mother's name, dear?"

"Salome Verchoux." The woman blinked; Aurora wracked her brain for her mother's maiden name. "I guess she would have been Salome Frost back then."

At once, the lilac eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, of course! She was teaching at the academy back then--I take it young Amelie is in her old position?"

Aurora shrugged. "I guess so. I didn't know my mom taught. Anyway, she was the Ajna, right?"

"So I've heard." The sound of footsteps could be heard from the stairs, but they were not Eduardo's light, carefree steps; there was something distinctly deliberate about this new tread. "Make sure you fix yourself a good meal, Kilos," Lady Anetka called to whoever it was. "You'll need your strength for tonight."

The man replied with a grunt before pushing through some distant door and shutting it behind him. Rude, but perhaps for the better; Aurora dismissed all thought of Lady Anetka's lover from her mind, then turned back to the medium herself. "What is an Ajna, anyway?"

Lady Anetka blinked, a creeping paralysis overtaking her body. Long seconds passed and she did not so much as twitch. "So... your mother went to Boote's school too?" she demanded, turning to Shae as soon as she regained her mobility. Aurora scowled; was anyone ever going to tell her what the hell an Ajna was? Would she forever be uninformed?

"Yes," Shae answered, picking at a loose thread in her stockings. "Meredith Tolfield."

"Ah, Meredith!" A fond sparkle danced in Lady Anetka's eye. "I remember her. She was a few years younger than I was--precious little thing. Very Gifted, and very sweet."

"She got expelled."

"Yes--yes, she did."

Shae dragged the heel of her boot across the hardwood. "Why?"

"I don't remember." Shae's mouth drooped; Lady Anetka sent her an apologetic glance. "Sorry, darling--that would be the opium again."

Aurora locked eyes with Shae and watched as her friend's features contorted to form the message 'This was a waste of time'; she had to agree. "Well, thank you for your time, Lady An--"

"Anetka! You're out of bread!" Why did that voice sound so familiar?

"Check the pantry," Lady Anetka called back. "Kilos, why don't you come in here and meet my daughter's friends? It's only polite, you know."

"Are you out of your mind? I'm wearing nothing but a towel!"

"All the better." Smiling, Lady Anetka turned back to the girls. "He's a favorite of mine. You'll like him--he's Greek."

"He speaks very good Anglian," Imani noted.

Lady Anetka tossed back her head dreamily. "Oh, he's been here for a while, but you'll know when you see him; they just don't make them like that on this side of the channel." She looked up to the archway and smiled. "Ah, Kilos! These are Gwenaelle's friends. This is Shae, and Imani, and--"

"Aurora Verchoux?" Her eyes widened as that all-too-familiar snarl reverberated up and down her spine.

"What in the hell are you doing out of school?"

Next chapter: The Boote Files - II

Orbis Umbra: "The Alter Ego"

2010-10-01T18:55:00.000-07:00

Title: "The Alter Ego"
Author: Van (Dinuriel)
Classification: Orbis Umbra

Previous chapter: "The Intruder"

November 2, 3714

Naiara exhaled a steady stream of smoke as she gazed toward the vast expanse of empty land that constituted the rest of the school's property. "Pretty good, aren't they?"

"I'll say," Gwenaelle agreed, taking another drag. "Who'd you have to sleep with to get these?"

"Nobody." She turned around and held up the prime cigarette in triumph. "I swiped a pack from Boote's private stash."

The other girl grinned, taking the cigarette from her lips and releasing a quick puff. "She's going to kill you."

"Only if she finds out." Figuring she deserved it, Naiara allowed herself a particularly long inhale. As much as Gwenaelle annoyed her around the others, she didn't mind the blond when it was just the two of them. For whatever reason, the kid was just so intent on making everyone else believe she was some spoilt little princess who lacked the mental capacity of a fried egg. She eased up the charade around Naiara, probably just because Naiara had never been in a position to look down on anyone in her life. "Now, what do you want?"

Gwenaelle twirled her cigarette between her fingers. "I'm going to Cheshire tomorrow with some of the other girls."

Naiara's brow arched. "And you didn't invite me?"

The other girl's eyes widened; Naiara laughed. "I'm kidding--as if I'd want to go to Cheshire. What is there to do there, anyway? Try on blouses and dine on low-fat yogurt?"

"I'm going shopping with Caomhe," Gwenaelle told her. "Shae and Imani and Aurora want to talk to my mother about something."

"Sounds like a riot," yawned Naiara, "but how does this involve me?"

"Simple. We need you to distract Amelie and come up with some excuses for us in case Boote comes back."

Did she not know how absurd this sounded? Naiara took a quick drag, then snickered. "I'm sure Boote would be more likely to believe Ursula's cover stories than mine."

"Well, obviously," seethed Gwenaelle, rolling her eyes, "seeing as Ursula would rat us out and tell the truth."

Exasperated, Naiara shook her head. "Sarcasm, Gwen--you should probably learn to recognize it."

"So you'll do it, then?" The other girl's forest eyes were steely and strictly business; she certainly wasn't dealing with that flaky alter ego who irritated her so.

"Duh. Even I'm not enough of a bitch to leave five innocent girls at the mercy of Windsome Applegarth-Boote; if anyone asks, you're all doing a bus tour of the sleaziest strip clubs in all of Northern Anglia."

Gwenaelle shot her another glare; Naiara smirked. "Oh, as if you wouldn't love that--besides, I'm joking. Seriously, sarcasm."

The blond's unimpressed gaze lingered for a minute, but her expression gradually softened. "Whatever. Do you want us to get you something while we're there?"

"Well, you know how I love my blouses and low-fat yogurt..."

Gwenaelle sighed. "Sarcasm again?"

"You know it." She placed her cigarette between her teeth and steered it to the corner of her lips with her tongue. "Just say hi to your mom for me."

Her classmate looked as if she wanted to hurdle over the wrought-iron railing and plunge three stories to her early grave. "I told you, the others are going to see my mom; a visit with her is the last thing I need right now."

"Maybe," Naiara agreed, drawing the smoke down her throat and letting it slowly crawl back out her mouth, "but who's to say we all get what we need?"

Next chapter: "The Uninformed"