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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby Flame » 03/30/2013 4:57 AM

As Sole spoke, Astraea chose to hold her silence, although she drank in every word he spoke, inexplicably held in place by his voice as it crossed the distance between them, silent and unmoving. More than once, she tried to force herself to move, to simply walk away from the situation and never have to face it again, yet something held her back, kept her from retreating and hiding from what it was that she so feared. Perhaps it was time she stopped running from the truth and faced it instead, but it was much easier said than done. Although she seemed outwardly in control of herself, there was a tension in her frame which belay her internal conflict, her heart fluttering rapidly, as if she were a bird, cornered and with its wings bound. It seemed that no matter where she went, she couldn’t escape him, his questions, his brazen forwardness and self-assurance.

“So what does that make me? Just another fascinating specimen for you to study like an animal in a zoo until you’ve sated your curiosity? Will you cage me and keep me like some sort of prize to satisfy your ‘captivation’?” A small quiver ran through her form as the tension contained within her escalated dangerously close to a breaking point. She still refused to acknowledge him with her gaze, partially because she was afraid of what might happen to the fragile, perilous control which she currently held over herself. “Plus, what could you possibly know of eternity? You couldn’t begin to understand the meaning of the word.”

Although she couldn’t see him, she could sense him draw closer painstakingly slowly. With every step he took, the tautness contained within her slender frame grew, on the brink of snapping and finally releasing her to take flight, in which case he would likely never see her again. However, even against her will, his words seemed to have an almost hypnotic effect on her, firmly grounding her where she stood and refusing to let her go, no matter how hard she fought it. “Perhaps you and I share more in common than you know,” she finally replied, her voice soft, laced with a tightness that hadn’t been there before. But there was no way that he could have known what she had been through in her much longer life; he might have thought that his life was unfair, but he could never truly miss what he’d never had in the same way that she did.

However, his words hit home somewhere and stung, finally provoking the reaction she was sure he’d been looking for all along. She whipped around, sapphire-blue eyes flashing dangerously as they locked unforgivingly on his, accusing, although deep down inside, she knew that there was truth in his words. “And what does that make you then, if you don’t have the guts to fight what you think is unfair? You chose to run instead of stand for what you believed. You’re just as much a prisoner of your own shortcomings as I am to mine, don’t try to deny it.” She watched him warily, almost like a feline, her gaze following his every movement, her form tense, almost quivering with agitation, anticipation, and contained emotion.

Without warning, Sole had slammed her against the wall behind her, pinning her between the harsh, unforgiving stone and himself. She gasped in surprise, mirrored by a feral snarl which tore from the Khimera’s throat as the feline made to intervene, only to be halted in her tracks by a brief hand motion. Astraea made to protest, pushing against the Clone’s chest, but he didn’t give her the chance to resist, the sheer force and intensity behind his actions rapidly overpowering her resistance. Sole was merciless as he exploited her one weakness, and although her mind and expression protested his unexpected behavior, her attempts were feeble, and he found her body pliant and unresisting against him.

Astraea could feel the sharp contrast between the cold, unyielding stone wall at her back and the warmth of Sole’s muscular form as he pressed himself carefully yet commandingly against her, the sheer, thin fabric of her dress hardly any barrier between them. Against her will, her body arched to meet his, as if instinctively seeking the contact which she sought to deny it and had succeeded in doing for so many years. He played her just like a finely-tuned instrument, pulling at each string to draw out the strongest reverberations. His touch, regardless of how unwanted and uninvited, elicited inviting responses from her body, and she shuddered lightly against him as he nipped at the sensitive skin on her pale, elegant neck, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, powerless to refuse him what he so clearly wanted.

At his questions, she turned away, her gaze avoiding his as she refrained from replying, afraid to respond. Although she hated herself for it, she found that she couldn’t deny the long-forgotten, fiery passion which slumbered deep within her soul, held painstakingly trapped and restrained until he had so forcefully awakened it once again from its years of dormancy. It burned like an all-consuming flame deep within her, threatening to destroy her if she refused to yield to it. It seemed that the prolonged denial she had lived with had only served to feed her desire, and finally, unable to fight back any longer, yet refusing to be dominated by him, she seemed to rise to his unspoken challenge, answering with equal passion and intensity as she returned his kiss with just as much fire and need.

Why? Why was she doing this? Why was she allowing him to do this to her? That was the only coherent thought which plagued her mind as he almost literally kissed her senseless, demanding and gaining entrance as easily as taking candy from a baby. Perhaps it was because he was the first one in a long time to actually seem to care about Astraea, the person, even if he was only being sarcastic, and not just the detached bounty hunter front which she put on for the rest of the world. That, and it was impossible for her to deny her true nature for but so long; it wasn’t in her character to be so cold and detached from the world, and it was only now that that guise began to crumble around her.

As Sole kissed her, she could feel the powerful rush of blood which pounded through his veins, just under his skin, and it had an almost intoxicating effect upon her. Unconsciously, her fangs slowly slid from their sheaths, yearning for nothing more than to sink themselves into his warm, yielding flesh, to taste that tantalizing blood just once. However, one grazed lightly against his lip and Sole withdrew once again, seemingly intrigued by the tiny, inexplicable nick which had appeared on his skin. Astraea pulled back for a moment as well, watching him, regarding him as if in a new light. Her sapphire gaze, although hazy with desire, seemed thoughtful, calculating, as if she were appraising him. Would letting him in on her secret be so bad? How could he possibly use the information against her? Whether he knew or not, she knew that she was still capable of taking him down if need be, and it would be nice to be able to share her burden with someone for once…

“Do you want to know what I am? Are you certain that that’s what you want?” Her voice was husky and still slightly breathless as she spoke, but her tone was serious as she fixed Sole once again with a piercing, unwavering gaze. “I can show you…but don’t blame me if you don’t like what you find.” Not waiting for his reply, she closed the distance between them once again, this time taking the initiative as she allowed her instincts, both human and vampire, to take control, trailing a line of kisses along his jaw, then slowly down his neck, each lingering slightly longer as she came to a stop, her warm breath ghosting over his neck as she hovered over a vein, listening to the steady thud of fresh blood coursing so enticingly close. She hesitated for a moment, considering for just a moment the consequences of her actions. However, she pushed those second-thoughts aside just as quickly as they had arisen, and in a swift, fluid movement, sank her fangs smoothly into his neck, relishing the surge of warm, metallic liquid as his lifeblood poured forth readily.
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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 03/30/2013 5:09 AM

Dear God, what was she doing? Sole could honestly say he’d never felt more confused and more painfully aroused than this in his entire short life. The kiss she had returned with equal fervor, claiming his lips as he had claimed hers. That in itself was amazing. He hadn’t expected her to respond; in fact, he’d expected to be shoved away, or gutted, or shot. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do now, but his mind had taken a back seat to his body, and his body said he wanted her and he wanted her now. Sole had to do everything in his power to resist throwing her down on the cement and getting cited for public indecency. He imagined that wouldn’t go over well with anyone.

When Astraea drew back, he squashed the feeling of disappointment that nearly quelled the fire of desire that raged inside of him. But then she was speaking to him, and Sole had to concentrate really hard to hear what she was saying; his lust fogged mind was telling him that words weren’t needed anymore. It was actions that it wanted, and actions it should have! Wait, Astraea was still speaking. What was she saying? Sole narrowed his eyes slightly at her words, warning bells going off despite the fog in his mind. What she was? She was going to tell him? Sentences that ended like hers never turned out to be good things. Sole felt something drop in the pit of his stomach, and pushed away from her slightly, desire forgotten momentarily as she bent her head to his neck. “What-?” he managed weakly, but her kisses had a very strange effect on him; he could no longer speak, and he leaned forward to allow her better access to his neck.

Her kisses were soft, and sweet; intoxicating, Sole realized slowly. His breathing was ragged as he struggled to fill his lungs with the much needed air. His hands released hers, one settling on the curve of her hip, and the other reaching down to draw her leg over his thigh, pressing his body even tighter against hers. Then something completely unexpected happened; he felt sharp fangs sink into the tender flesh of his neck, and a wave of desire overwhelmed and crashed over him, a low moan escaping his lips. What was she doing? Sole’s hazy mind couldn’t quite register it, but the sheer pleasure of the fangs sinking into his neck, of her body molded to his, of the pain and the ecstasy of her bite nearly knocked him down flat.

A low, possessive growl rumbled in his throat. To hell with public decency, his lust-fogged mind declared. To hell with propriety; this woman would be his, damn it, and he intended to let her know it. The force of that idea hit him hard, and he had only a single second of clarity to realize he now intended for this woman to be his, and not just for the moment. He wanted her forever. Until his short life ended, he didn’t think he’d be able to get enough of her. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with this? Oh, all kinds of things, he concluded hazily. But he didn’t care anymore; to hell with orders, to hell with rules, to hell with being a clone. He was a man, and she was a woman, and by the Gods he wanted her to be his. Here and now.

He hardly seemed aware that the woman he desired to possess was instead possessing him with her fangs. It didn’t register with him, and instead, he had her lifted off the ground, wrapping her legs around his waist as he did so. Since he could not longer capture her mouth for a kiss, he instead bent his head to nip at her exposed shoulder, one hand running from the curve of her hip, to the underside of one silk covered breast. He was annoyed by the confining fabric she wore, and tempted to try to just rip it off right then and there, but he was certain that wouldn’t go over too well with her. He subconsciously tilted his head, allowing her better access to his neck, and suppressed a groan of sheer desire as he held their bodies together.

“I don’t even know your name,” he whispered huskily, one hand sliding up her ribcage, and along her neck, to tangle in her hair. His body was overcome with a million different sensations he’d never felt before. It felt as if his neck was on fire, burning pleasantly and tingling with every move she made, his heart thudding and racing in his chest, and his body roaring to life and responding to her as a man would to a woman he desired. “-And you recently tried to kill me…But I don’t really care. I’m Sole…Soleil Varro, but I’m sure you knew that. Who are you?” Astraea. His mind whispered it, and he knew her name very well; he’d read it on a hundred reports, seen it a thousand times. He knew her name all right.

But he wanted her to tell him; to speak to him with her own lips, and not just a piece of flimsi or on a holo-chart. He gasped softly, the sensation of her teeth on his neck intoxicating; he pressed against her, desiring more. “Somewhere else,” he growled softly, as though coherent sentences had fled him. “Let’s go…Let’s forget who we are…For one night...” His hand trailed up her thigh, driving up the flimsy material of her dress with it, and his fingers ran along the smooth, gentle curve of her stomach, fascinated. “Or maybe…for the rest of our lives.”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby Flame » 03/30/2013 4:02 PM

For the moment, the woman that Sole had come to know in their brief past encounters was gone, only a distant memory trapped helplessly behind a glass wall in her mind, prisoner to the instinctive creature that had crept in through the cracks and infiltrated her thoughts, controlling her actions. The strict, unyielding control which she had held over herself for so many years was gone, forgotten in the heat of the moment as overwhelming instinct crashed over her, a relic of what she once was in a long-distant, yet far from forgotten past. Astraea wasn’t there any more – it seemed the rational side of her had (at least for the moment) been overpowered, and everything she did was without thought, her body relishing in the dance to which it clearly had not forgotten the steps for.

Her fangs now buried deep in his soft, yielding flesh, the warm, rich blood now pouring from the fresh wound only served to fan the flames, her normally clear, blue eyes now a deep shade of crimson. For an instant, all of her past pain, all the torment she had been through, it was all forgotten, washed away in a tide of bloodlust and scarlet desire. Sole’s coaxing, however unrefined it might be due to his lack of experience, still had its desired effect, and her body crooned in ecstatic approval as it was given what it had been denied for so long. Her fangs remained firmly fixed in his flesh as he lifted her off the ground, slender legs wrapping around his waist to pull him as close to her as they could. The cold stone pressed almost painfully against her back caused a shiver of pleasure to run down her spine, coming to rest in the pit of heat which welled in her abdomen. Her body arched against him, demanding more, sensing his insatiable desire and responding in kind, pressing their forms as close to each other as possible, as if magnetically attracted.

His words were nothing more than jargon to her right now; now was not the time for words. However, she vaguely registered him asking for her name, but even if she’d wanted to tell him, the allure of fresh blood was too powerful to resist. Instead, the only response he received was that of her fangs sinking even deeper into the flesh of his neck, driving themselves dangerously close to his trachea. Experience though, kept her from accidentally pushing too far and causing him serious injury: after all, it was much more difficult to enjoy a meal when it was thrashing and spluttering as blood filled its lungs. True, she had fed hundreds of times in her long lifetime, yet none had been quite as arousing as this. Her entire perception of time and the world around her ceased to exist, and for the moment, it was just him and her. Nothing else in the world mattered.

“Let’s go…Let’s forget who we are…For one night…Or maybe…for the rest of our lives.”
’The rest of our lives.’
Something fired in her hazy mind, a spark struck by that one unwitting phrase. Astraea’s eyes flicked open, suddenly their clear, crystal blue once more as they lit upon Sole, as if seeing him for the first time, and for a moment, it was a different face she beheld, one which she’d fought so hard over the years to forget and yet to remember, one which she held so dearly and yet was no longer hers to hold. A face which belonged to one who had made the vow to love and cherish for as long as they lived, until death did part them. There was a small, sharp intake of breath as she released her hold on him, her fangs instantly vanishing from sight before Sole could see them. As she stared at him, her gaze seemed to stare past him, into another world which he couldn’t see, yearning, almost pleading. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but all that escaped was a small, shivering breath as a torrent of forgotten memories and emotions crashed down on her.

A name, a face, a long-unfelt touch, a promise. All of these things ghosted across her thoughts in a mere fraction of a second, but it was enough to undo her. All of a sudden, 29 years of forgetting vanished, but it turned out that remembering made the pain of forgetting feel like nothing more than a mere papercut. The sudden, cold shock seemed to snap her clean out of the trance which has just held her in its sway, and suddenly, the mirage was gone and she found herself staring at the man who was her bounty, an enemy, and one who had broken down what she thought had been the impregnable walls in her mind.

The realization of what was happening struck her like a sledgehammer, and with inhuman speed and strength that reflected her shock and dismay, she shoved Sole away, almost stumbling before she caught herself against the wall, her breath short and ragged. Instantly, a snarling Khimera appeared in the gap which now separated them, fangs, claws and tails bristling in a fearsome show of unrestrained fury. Syria hadn’t seen her mistress in this much anguish in decades, and this man was the cause of it all. If it were up to her, he would have already been shredded to smithereens, but fortunately, she knew better than to act without an express command from Astraea. However, that wouldn’t stop her from maiming him if he so much as tried to take a step closer to the distressed woman.

Astraea remained leaning against the wall, one arm bracing herself, the other instinctively curled around her abdomen, almost protectively. She glanced down, startled to see the remains of the wound which Sole had inflicted, the bloodstained hole in the fabric of her dress the only indication that anything had happened. However, the sight of it had a profound effect upon her. The sickening familiarity of it all, of this entire situation…everything she’d tried so hard to forget was suddenly forced upon her once again, and it was more than she could handle. Her beloved husband…the pregnancy…

Suddenly, she remembered that she wasn’t alone, and her eyes flew up the meet Sole’s once more, her sapphire gaze hazy with a turmoil of emotions as she fought to regain self-control. This was the last person she wanted to show any weakness to: the only person who ever got to see that was Syria, and she felt both weak and violated by her own thoughts and actions. She felt like she had to say something to him – likely something defensive – yet nothing came to mind as she stared at him across the alley. After all, what was there to be said in a situation like this? For a moment, she held the tense silence, then just as suddenly as she’d come, she whisked around and vanished into the shadows once more, knowing that it was best she was alone with her thoughts. She had no intention of ever seeing Sole again, not after this. No bounty would be high enough to persuade her to hunt him down, not if it meant having to see him, having to remember this encounter. Syria lingered for a moment longer, making sure Astraea wasn’t followed before giving Sole one last, derisive snarl, and with a flick of her bladed tails, she too melted into the shadows, knowing that tonight, she would have her paws full tending to her mistress’s re-broken heart.
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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 03/30/2013 6:42 PM

For the briefest of moments, Sole believed that she would wholeheartedly agree with him; if he was in her position, he definitely would've agreed. But then she pulled away, and the haze and the fog that had clouded his mind seemed to lift, if only for a moment, and he recalled his senses as he gazed into the clear, crystal blue eyes of the woman in his arms. Sole was quite adept at reading facial expression, and what he saw written on hers was nothing short of frightening. “What-?” he managed, his voice nothing more than a soft, harsh whisper in the dark, before she had pushed away from him, stumbling into the wall and clutching at her stomach as if he'd kicked her. Sole staggered away, blood loss and the haze that hadn't quite cleared from his brain making his steps falter briefly, and he had to brace his arm against a lamppost to keep from tumbling sideways into the gutter of the street.

Despite the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him, he jerked his head up, gazing at her with something akin to hurt; he didn't quite know what had come over him a few moments ago, but despite the peculiarity and unfamiliarity of it all, he decided that he liked it. And the fact that she'd rejected him, just when he'd worked up whatever courage he had to ask her to be with him, was like a stab in the gut. He wanted to reach out to her, to call out her name, but the anguish on her face was overwhelming, and before he could gather his wits and ask for an explanation, there was a snarling, bristling wall of fur, claws and fangs between him and the woman he...the woman he what? Sole didn't quite know. All he did know was that he felt cold, and lonely, and there was an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite explain and the tumult of emotions on Astraea's face only made it hurt worse.

Fingers clenching into a fist as he used his arm to push himself away from the lamppost, Sole made as if to reach out to the woman, but in the next second, she'd turned and vanished, leaving behind nothing but the ghostly warmth of her lips and one very confused Sole. He contemplated going after her, but the armored cat easily deterred that idea, and Sole could do nothing but stand there, in the flickering light of the lamp, and watch as the shadows swallowed Astraea up, bearing her away from him, possibly forever. He wanted to scream at the darkness, to call after her and tell her it wasn't fair; how could she walk away so easily? All these emotions and feelings he'd never had before were crushing in their weight, and without anyone to help him explain or figure them out, they pressed down on him, suffocating him like a cheap, woolen blanket. He pressed a hand to his face, his eyes closing as his head swam; it was all far too much. He didn't quite know why he was so dizzy and weak, but he chalked it up to his rogue emotions, and slid a hand down his neck, still staring listlessly into the shadows that had stolen her away from him.

When he withdrew his hand, he was surprised to find it coated with blood, and abject terror penetrated the fog of his mind as he felt around for a stab wound or a slash mark on his skin. But he found nothing; just the cool, coppery stickiness of blood that was rapidly drying and crusting against his skin, and smooth, unmarked flesh. So what then, had she done? Sole finally allowed himself to succumb to the dizziness, slumping down against the lamppost and hanging his arms over his bent knees, his head drooping silently. A crackling in his ear was the only warning he got before a sharp, concerned voice cut through his silent musings. “Vod? You okay? Did you get her?” Sole thought the words were oddly ironic, and weakly, he ran a hand down his face, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. “I'm fine. Just a little dizzy. Things didn't quite go according to plan and I...lost her.” The words hung heavily in the air for Sole, but Recoil, on the other end of the line, didn't seem to notice. “Tough luck, vod. I've got your location on my scanners, and I'll be there to pick you up soon. Just hang tight, Cap.” Soleil didn't bother responding to the transmission as he let his head thump back against the cool metal of the post, closing his eyes and chuckling softly; yeah, he lost her all right.

In more ways than one.


---------------


The harsh breathing of his victim was loud in the alleyway. The walls on either side echoed with his gasps as he backed against the far end, trying to make himself seem invisible. Unfortunately for him, his pursuer wasn't one to half-ass jobs, and he wasn't stupid either and casually, almost nonchalantly, the shadow of the hunter appeared around the corner of the alley, whistling some sort of nameless tune as he followed his prey with unhurried steps. “Bad luck for you, eh?” the hunter mused, watching as his victim's eyes widened and he nearly tried to shimmy up the wall. “I'm afraid you've got nowhere to go. How unfortunate. I will give it to you though; you sure gave me one hell of a chase. Now...” As he reached his victim, the man slumped down to the ground, body trembling with fear; he knew this was the end for him, because he knew who this was. A rogue ARC captain, the elite of the elite, and they were nothing if not thorough. There would be little of him left after tonight.

The ARC kneeled down in front of his victim, scrutinizing him with a curious, ruby gaze. “All this trouble for you? I don't think you're really worth it. But a job's a job. I heard you mentioning there was another bounty hunter after you back in the bar. Mind cluing me into who it is?” With his teeth chattering, the man managed to ramble off a name, which made the ARC's brow raise, but other than that, he gave no indication that it was familiar, though hsi face did tighten with faint displeasure. “Ah. So she's after you too and you thought she was the one chasin' you tonight?” Meekly, the man nodded, eyes casting about, as if wondering where the other hunter was. He was certain he'd seen her nearby, he was certain she'd have picked up his trail by now.

“Well, too bad for her,” the ARC continued, levering himself up into a standing position and pulling a blaster from one of his pockets. “I got here first.” There was a flash of light, and the acrid smell of burning flesh, and the bounty was no more. Sole leaned down to snip off the identification tag of the runaway prisoner, a “bounty” he'd taken as a mission from his superiors, even if he didn't get the reward money. Just one less stray end to worry about. Turning, he wiped the identification tag off on his shirt, stuffing it into a pocket. Maybe he still had time for a quick apple juice before heading back to base.

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


+Imp. Documents+ +Menagerie+ +Wishlist+ +Journal+
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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby Flame » 03/31/2013 3:36 PM

She was slipping. She was slipping and she knew it. Her chin rested against the palm of her hand, propped up on the railing which framed the deserted balcony on which she stood. Cool, sapphire eyes were distant as they gazed off into the middle of nowhere, delicate fingers absently tapping out a rhythm on the resonant metal, the only sound audible above the faint noises of the city below. Her face was a carefully veiled mask, belying no trace of any emotion that might possibly lie in the endless depths of those inscrutable blue eyes.  One couldn’t be sure exactly what her purpose was, standing around in an abandoned part of the town, but the best guess might have been that she was waiting for something, or perhaps someone.

It had been several weeks since Astraea’s last, eventful run-in with Sole, but in contrast, they had been almost disconcertingly quiet weeks which had bred no unnecessary excitement. Life seemed to decide to carry on as it always had, completely oblivious to those who had the misfortune of experiencing it, or so it felt to the woman. Business continued as usual, pursuing bounties, and after she’d inevitably hunted them down, moving onto the next. It had given her quite a lot of time to be alone with her thoughts, time to mull over the occurrences which had transpired, and as she’d expected, it was more time than she’d cared to have for dwelling on things past. Especially when the past wasn’t one that favored the bearer of the memories.

Astraea had since been decidedly distracted, and she knew it full well as it was beginning to show in the quality of her work. Of course, the job always got done, there was no doubt of that, but there would be times that she would stumble, and it took her longer than usual to hunt down her bounties. Part of it was due to the fact that her mind was often preoccupied, dwelling on the past and hating herself at the same time for it, and the other part because she simply couldn’t bring herself to care about something as inconsequential as hunting down meaningless marks. The only reason why she continued to do it was because it provided some modicum of diversion from the nothingness that left her alone with only her thoughts for company. Thoughts that would have destroyed any lesser mind in the matter of moments. It was a pain she had grown accustomed to over the past three decades, but still, it tore at the very fabric of her being, slowly breaking her down like the incessant ebb and flow of the ocean beat even the most resilient stone down to sand. These days, she had a hard time even finding the will to hunt for her own sustenance. Everything just felt like so much…effort. Effort that she couldn’t remember why she once thought was worth giving. If she didn’t have much to live for to begin with, it was even harder to find meaning now, but she reasoned that she couldn’t just leave Syria alone in this cold world. She couldn’t inflict a pain like that on one so close to her, one who truly cared for and would be willing to die for her without question.

Today was one of those days that she knew her performance was suffering; she’d let her bounty slip away from her, something that had never happened until recently. However, while she would normally be in hot pursuit of his trail, she couldn’t muster the motivation to bother going after him. There weren’t many places to go, and she had no doubt he’d be no problem to find later. She did allow Syria to continue the pursuit though, as the Khimera was much more intent on finding the mark than she. In the meantime, she chose to mull over her thoughts alone in the quiet of the slums. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Syria showed up only a few minutes later though, bounding up to join her on the balcony with one fluid motion. The feline had always been a top-notch tracker, and the soft chuff that she made as she approached her mistress indicated that she had indeed figured out where their prey had disappeared to. Syria knew better than to rush her mistress though: it wouldn’t be hard to find the man again if he moved, and Astraea’s state of mind had been fragile for the past few weeks. Instead, she silently padded over, pushing her large, metal-plated head gently against the woman’s waist, crooning softly, earning herself an affectionate caress from a pale, delicate hand. “I suppose it’s time to go, isn’t it, darling?” Blue eyes, gentle, yet wistful, met gold ones with the gentle familiarity of decades of companionship. Astraea sighed wearily, but smiled softly at her partner. “Lead the way then.”

It took only moments to reach the man’s most recent hiding place, but as they approached, both knew that something was off about the situation. The first thing to tip them off was the distinct stench of burning flesh, and the second, the scent of another stranger mingled with that of their target. Syria, however, was the first to place it as one that was familiar. The recognition brought an instant snarl, rumbling up quietly from deep in her chest, belying a deep-seated hatred. It took Astraea a moment longer, but it came to her as well, but unlike Syria, her façade remained solidly unmoved, any emotions she felt well-hidden behind her inscrutable crystal gaze. She could guess what had happened after piecing the clues together, and while she’d normally be thorough enough to at least check the body, she didn’t care enough about the bounty to bother, especially in this situation. The last thing she wanted was another run-in with the mark’s killer. “Come, my dear,” she said quietly to her companion, turning to walk back the same way she had come. “There’s nothing left for us here.”
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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 04/12/2013 11:55 PM

Sole didn’t spare the body a second thought; he’d seen plenty of them before, and one more by his hand was nothing new. Replacing his weapon within the confines of his jacket, he shoved his hands into his pockets, whistling quietly to himself as he exited the alley. Everything would’ve gone smoothly, and Sole might have, just might have forgotten all about the fact that Astraea was after the same bounty as he had been, if not for the tell-tale rumbling up ahead and around the corner, and the sight of someone’s shadow, long and thin and disappearing quickly, vanishing around the corner. Sole didn’t pick up his pace, but nonchalantly strolled out of the alley, turning to gaze down the sidewalk at the retreating figure that was oh-so very familiar. He angled his body away from her, as though he had no intention of going after her, and a million different ideas flashed through his mind; running up to her, grabbing her, spinning her around and demanding explanation. Shooting her in the back. Throwing a rock at her. Kissing her senseless. That last one made something in his chest clench, and he ground his teeth together as he stared at her slowly shrinking figure in the near distance.

After she’d left him outside that bar, reeling, confused, and, mysteriously, missing quite a bit of blood (he’d had Recoil analyze all his vitals, and they’d found irregular heartbeat and severe blood loss was the cause of his dizziness), a billion questions had buzzed through his mind. He knew it was wrong, all of it was wrong, but he couldn’t help but want her, and that confused him. But what confused him even more was her rejection of him. It had been so sudden, so abrupt, that he hadn’t had any time to protest. Why? The biggest question he kept asking himself was why she rejected him. Was there a reason? He was her bounty and she was the hunter? She didn’t seem to really care about that, even though he knew he should have, because quite frankly, she was nothing but a job to him. He was supposed to bring her to the Republic, so they could analyze her, use her, destroy her, but that mission had been pushed to the back of his mind in favor of this new and all-consuming mystery. Had she pushed him away because she knew what he was? A clone with no hope for any real future? Or had it been another reason? She didn’t seem that shallow.

Maybe he’d frightened her with the intensity of his words. Maybe asking her to forget herself for one night, for the rest of their lives had frightened her. Maybe he’d been stupid to think anything could come of that; he sure felt like an idiot. Even now, the bitterness of the rejection was like bile in the back of his throat, welling up and choking him until he could barely breathe. She rejected him, and the whys and the what ifs didn’t matter; all that mattered was her rejection. She obviously didn’t want him, either as a lover or a bounty, and both of them stung, made his heart clench and his head spin because something deep inside said that she was so wrong to do that to him, that he shouldn’t give up, that he couldn’t let her get away. It was that ‘something’ that made him angle his shoulders slightly, turn his head, and call out to her in a voice full of bitter anger. “You’re getting very good at walking away, bounty hunter. I’m almost ashamed to have let you catch me before.” His lips lifted in an artless smile, one that bared a set of perfectly white teeth at her as he sneered: “I‘m sorry I ever thought you were different. I‘m sure you can imagine why.”


((Sorry if it seems a bit disjointed and jumbled; Hehe, that's just how he's feeling right now. XD))

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby Flame » 04/13/2013 1:50 AM

For a moment, Astraea thought that she’d manage to slip away quietly and without notice; she didn’t particularly want to deal with this can of snakes today, but at the same time, she didn’t entirely make a point of sneaking away either. Perhaps some part of her wanted him to see her, to stop her…but why? Perhaps to put an end to this nonsense, bring some form of closure to this twisted game of cat and mouse. At least, that’s what she told herself. It was hard even for her to know exactly what was going on in her thoughts these days. She hadn’t been so…unraveled for a very, very long time, and to be quite honest, it was rather distracting, to say the least. There was no peace of mind to be found, even in the quiet of solitude. Especially in the quiet of solitude. That was when the unwanted thoughts were the loudest, when the unbidden memories flowed one after the other through her mind, like a flickering reel of images pulled from a dusty box of forgotten recollections.

It was mostly the sudden inundation of unfamiliar emotions which so threw her off-kilter. After all those decades spend building up her walls and locking her heart away in a cage where it couldn’t be harmed, she’d thought that she was invincible to the wiles and ways of mortals, of people. She’d learned the hard way that her defenses weren’t as impenetrable as she’d believed them to be though, and a hard lesson it had been indeed. It was one she wasn’t sure she would entirely recover from, but for a person without purpose in life, what was she to do in this situation? She would not purposely take her own life – that was almost sacrilegious, as tempting as it might be. No, her grief and sins were not hers to remove. If she were to go, she needed a deliverer; a person to wash away her past and give her some form of peace of mind in death.

These were but a few among the jumble of thoughts tumbling through her mind as her feet led her away from the origin of her troubles. She’d all but forgotten about his existence, her mind occupied, but clearly, Syria hadn’t. Not only had this man wronged her mistress, he’d now stolen her quarry as well, and that certainly rubbed her fur the wrong way. She didn’t often take such a strong disliking to people (as fearsome as she might seem to most), but she was happy to make an exception for Sole. While Astraea stalked away, Syria hung back, waiting, watching. She had a gut feeling that this encounter was far from over, and she was sure that she wouldn’t like how it was going to turn out. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, her rumbling warning growl instantly kicked into a full-blown, impressively bloodcurdling snarl, fangs bared, hackles raise, and tails flashing in a display of vehement hatred. That would certainly cause any sane (or insane) person to pause and think twice before even thinking of coming any closer.

It was Syria’s sudden and heated reaction that shook Astraea back to the present and there was a momentary pause as she hesitated in her steps. Sole’s voice had no problem breaching the distance between them, borne on the wings of anger and bitterness which echoed loudly in her sensitive ears. His comment sought to wound, but she felt no sting at his words, only a distant, oddly weary sadness. “I did warn you, you know.” Astraea’s voice was soft, almost too quiet to hear from where he stood, but the words seemed more for her than him. “I told you not to let me find you. Second chances aren’t things to be given lightly.” Another pause as her head turned slightly, but not enough to fully unveil her face. “Perhaps you were the fool for believing that I was something that I wasn’t. Perhaps it’s time that you learned to walk away as well.” With that, she took up her lonely path once more, away from the lone figure behind her.
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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 04/13/2013 2:24 AM

Sole’s eyes strayed from the woman currently widening the gap between them and fitted onto the snarling, angry mass of cat that stood in the middle of it all. He spared her an annoyed glance, obviously insane (because no one sane would want to deal with that) and resisted the urge to flick a rude gesture in the cat’s direction. It was such a nuisance, and he was quite certain he could kill it very simply, despite it’s armor. He had plenty of experience breaching all types of armor, and one stupid feline wasn’t about to trip him up. Especially not when it was so overtly aggressive towards him. “Shut up, furball,” he growled, leveling a flat stare in her direction. He contemplated drawing his blaster, shooting at the cat and maybe singing some fur, or using it as target practice and blowing it to smithereens. But he doubted that was feasible right now, and he didn’t really care to expend the energy and waste his time with the damn thing.

His focus was more on her master, who kept walking away as if she’d done nothing wrong. Sole growled, deep in his throat, his teeth gritted as he struggled not to run after her and maybe shake some sense into her. It’d do her some good, he decided, to have someone grab her by the arms and shake her until she saw how stupid she was.  His gaze locked on Astraea’s retreating back, and the urge to throw something at her grew exponentially. But Sole was anything but petty, and although the idea of bouncing a rock off of that thick, idiotic skull of hers was very, very pleasing, he wouldn’t stoop to that level (But still…it was a good idea). “Blah, blah, blah,” he mocked, rolling his eyes in her direction. “If you weren’t so wrapped up in your own angst, bounty hunter, then maybe you’d see past that stupid little nose of yours and figure out what’s really going on here.” His eyes, though hard and flat, were begging her to turn around, to acknowledge what was between them, not to walk away and leave him alone.

“So what is the matter? Are you that afraid of me? Of what happened between us? Was the prospect of being with a clone sickening to you? Am I not real enough? Human enough for you? Figures. You’re not human; I know you aren’t. But hey, I don’t judge. Not like I have a right. I’m just a replica; a useless copy of someone else. Is that why you find me so repulsive? Or is it because I’m your ‘prey’? I don’t think that last bit bothered you so much, but I could be wrong. If I’m right, then I’d say you’re a pretty shabla pathetic bounty hunter after all; walking away from the bounty? Pathetic. PATHETIC!” His voice rose a the end, shaking with rage and bitterness and something else he couldn’t define but left him feeling hollow and empty as it burned his chest and constricted his heart.

“There’s something wrong with you,” he murmured, his voice hardly loud enough to be heard over the distance, and he turned away, staring hard at the ground and blinking rapidly. “Something very wrong with you. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’ve never felt it before. I know I’m not a real person -- I’m only like, seven years old, after all -- but that doesn’t mean I don’t have real feelings, real confusion, real…pain. I get that you don’t care an all, but I’d really like a little explanation, because quite frankly, I’m not sure where the hell I’m supposed to go from here, or what the hell I’m supposed to do with all of…this.” he waved his hand around vaguely in front of him, as if indicating something he couldn’t quite see. “You can keep walking, I guess, and I won’t stop you, if that’s what you want. But it’s not what I want. Never what I want…”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby Flame » 04/13/2013 9:40 PM

Syria could feel the malevolence seeping from Sole’s gaze as he stared at her, but her eyes never left his, unflinching, returning his malice tenfold with a smoldering gaze of liquid gold fire. He could try all he wanted to hurt her, but she had seen many more years than he, and fought many more dangerous opponents. This was just another man with a gun that wanted to hurt Astraea, and nothing he could do would stop her from defending her mistress. It was a cause that she would gladly give her life for, and a dangerous one at that, but one that she was certainly well-equipped for as well. Only one thing was keeping her from tearing the man from limb to limb, and as tempting of a notion as that was, she was well too disciplined to give in to her own desires. As justified as they might be.

Angst. Was that what he called it? Would if only it had been only that, life would have been so much easier. It was then that Astraea realized just how inexperienced this man was with all aspects of life outside of the battlefield. As far as he knew, all there was to the world was war, violence, and death. Emotions were fleeting, and although powerful, only ephemeral in nature. Feelings were brief, but the struggle between life and death was eternal. She understood that view on life, but her years had taught her that it was a very narrow one at best, one which was born of a life of nothing but constant conflict. She felt for him for having such an unfortunate path chosen for him, but there was nothing that she could do to remedy the wrongs done to him in the past. The past was the past, and what was done was done. Those things were best left unvisited, as she had learned, but it left her with a little more pity for the man from whom she was walking away.

“Syria,” she called softly, after a brief moment of silence. The Khimera heard the beckon in her mistress’s voice, and although she was loathe to yield even an inch to Sole, she was loyal to Astraea above all. With a final snarl that warned that she was not yet done with him, she turned and bounded down the street, silent as a shadow as she returned to the woman’s side. A growl still rumbled softly in her chest as she turned to glare at Sole from her new vantage point, but it quieted slightly at the gentle touch of a hand on her head. “There is much about me that you don’t understand, and it’s probably for the best.” Astraea’s voice was no louder as she addressed her accuser again, her tone much less confrontational than his had been. “I know that there are many things wrong with me. I don’t need you to tell me that. Your words are those of the young and not yet world-weary, and I’m not the person to ask to teach you these things.”

It seemed as if she was about to turn around to address him directly, but seemed to think better of it. “There is much yet for you to learn of this world, youngling, and much that I hope you will never have to. You might think that you are no stranger to pain, but believe me when I say that you have no idea what it is to feel true agony. Trust me on that.” How could someone like him possibly understand what she had been put through in the brief and unfair years she’d lived as a mortal? In a way, his life was luckier than hers – at least it was simple, from what she understood. Unfair, that was certain, but she would have traded it in an instant for the demons with which she now lived.
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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 04/13/2013 10:18 PM

Sole watched dispassionately as Syria bounded away at the word of her mistress. His teeth felt like they might shatter under the pressure of his clenching jaw, and his fingers curled in and clenched so hard at in his pockets that his knuckles turned white, reflecting the rage that was mirrored in his gaze. Rage and sorrow. Sole decided that ever since taking this assignment, he’d been subjected to more of those unwanted emotions than he could actually count, and he regretted every second of it. His gaze flickered away from the giant cat, up to her mistress, who had yet to turn around to face him. The urge to throw something at her returned tenfold, but Sole angrily stamped down the desire, not willing to act like a child despite the annoyance that her dismissal caused. “I’ve seen enough of this world to know that I’m already weary of it,” he spat back at her. “You think you know what I feel? What I’ve felt? Don’t make me fucking laugh. Lady, you don’t know what pain is. I’ve been through shit that would make your toes curl. I’m about a hundred percent sure that whatever the hell you’re feeling, I’ve felt tenfold.”

His fingers clenched so hard that his nails pierced into the fleshy underside of his hand, drawing little crescent shaped rivulets of blood. “You know what agony is? Agony is knowing that you have thousands of brothers with the same face as you. Agony is knowing you’re not unique. Agony is getting to know those brothers, to love them, to think of them as family, and then watching them get torn apart, piece by shabla piece on the battlefield. Agony is holding your squad mate’s hand in your own, watching as he bleeds out in your arms and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Agony is losing more than one friend, more than one brother, every single day in every single battle. Agony is knowing you’re going to die before you reach the age of twenty. Agony is knowing you will never have a family, a life, or anything outside of war and death. Agony is being nothing more than a fancy piece of meat in armor, waiting for your time to face the firing squad, knowing that there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

He laughed, a low, bitter sound that was filled with anger and rage because everything he was saying was true. He felt a tell-tale prickling behind his eyes, but he turned away, blinking them rapidly and refusing to allow any tears to fall. The fact that his entire life had just been laid out in a very agonizingly painful monologue -- coming from his own lips, no less -- was more of a shell-shock to him than it probably would be to her. The thing that killed him most, that hurt the most, was the fact that it was all true, and there wasn’t anything he could do to change it, because when this was all over, he’d step right back into that uniform, step right back onto that battlefield and wait to die. “But you know what the most agonizing part is? The part where, no matter how many nameless faces or familiar friends you’re surrounded by, no matter where you are or where you go, you will always, always…always be alone.  So don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what true agony feels like. Don’t you dare to presume that I’m some naïve child who is a stranger to pain. You have no idea who or what I am, or what I’ve been through. Surviving day to day is a fight for me, and it’s…”

He paused, his voice wavering slightly as he thought of his mission, and chose his next words carefully. “…it’s why I went over the wall. I won’t be anyone’s puppet anymore. Not for that. Not for anything. I won’t die like that…” He finally turned to face her back, his eye slightly red-rimmed as though he’d held back his tears -- which he had, indeed done -- and his brows furrowed angrily. “You think you have problems? You think you’re special because your pain is SO much greater than everyone else’s? Yeah. Poor you. You must have it pretty fucking bad.


((Well...that escalated quickly. XD Sorry about his language))

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby Flame » 04/13/2013 11:06 PM

Astraea knew that what she had to say was not what the hot-headed ex-clone wanted to hear, but it would have been lying to say that she had seen his sudden and explosive rant coming. She had the decency to at least turn and favor him with a glance, her inhumanly sharp gaze quickly taking in what he hadn’t wanted her to see, even in the semi-lit gloom of the dark alley. Her blue eyes were impassive, but not without sympathy. She at least found it in her heart to feel for the man, but again, it struck her just how childlike he was, despite his deceptive appearance of being a full-grown man. No person should be forced to grow up that quickly and be subjected to the pain and injustice that he had lived through. It wasn’t fair, that was for sure, but as far as she had seen during her long tenure in this world, life was never fair.

She knew how these men lived. She knew full well what they were put through in their training and during the course of their short and violent lives, but it was different, hearing the intimate details from Sole himself. She herself had once served the same people, but that was in a distant past, long before a single Clone had been born. It was part of the reason why she’d never rejoined the Republic forces herself after the incident. The more she got to see of their methods and ethics, the less she felt that their means were justified, but there was nothing she could do about it. They were many and she was one, however powerful she might now be, and the good she could do for those treated unjustly was measured by the jobs she took and whom she took them from.

His lashing words were born of a deep-seated pain, but she was too old and too tired to feel their sting. She pitied him, and perhaps sometime in the past she might have shed tears on his behalf, but she’d seen too much pain and injustice in her time and had been numbed by it. No human heart was made to bear that much agony, and it was amazing that she hadn’t been driven insane by the sheer magnitude of everything she’d seen and been through in her life. This was just more proof to show that the world didn’t care, that nothing had changed since her younger days, and that nothing ever would. He meant to wound her with his harsh words, but she wouldn’t allow herself to lose her head with him again. That had already happened once before, and with disastrous results. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.

Astraea couldn’t blame him for not understanding though, and she knew it would be pointless to try and explain. After all, how could you understand something you didn’t know could exist? Agony was having everything he wanted to have, everything he hated not having, then in an instant, losing it all. Sometimes, it was better not to have loved than to have loved at all, because then, you were keenly, painfully aware of what you knew you’d never have again. A stab of pain threatened to wash over her again, but she pushed it away for the moment, knowing that there would be plenty of time to ruminate over her own sorrows later. If there was one thing she could do now, it was to show Sole that as bad as things might be for him, there were those who had it worse, as hard as that might be for him to fathom. When she addressed him again, her voice was firm, louder, yet at the same time, gentle.

“You can do something about it. You can at least protect your living brothers, because there are still those alive who need you. You can’t protect those who are already gone. And at least you know that there will be an end to it all, sooner or later, although you managed to find the freedom that your brothers might never taste. At least there’s still a world and a life out there for you, however cruel it is, and at least you have reason to live. You have so much more than I do, as little as you might think it is. Don’t take it for granted.
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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 04/13/2013 11:43 PM

Sole laughed bitterly, head thrown back and appearing more boyish and carefree than he ever had before. His face was open, honest, but still so full of hurt and bitter anger. It would be much easier if he just killed her and reported his mission failed. The Republic was going to execute her anyways, once they’d gotten all the information and study out of her that they could. Why not spare them the trouble? But even if he did contemplate it, he couldn’t go through with it. He just couldn’t. “Sure,” he agreed, his smile artless and cold as he turned to gaze at her. “I can totally change everything. I mean, I’m obviously someone they hold in high regard, and I obviously have the power to protect them. And quite obviously I’ve managed to gain so much freedom. I’m going to live such a long and healthy life. No dying young for me! Not like my genetic clock is already ticking in overdrive. Nope! Cuz I’m special! I shouldn’t take any of this for granted! Because dying young and having nothing to show for it is all the rage these days, right?”

His red eyes alighted onto her own, holding her gaze as he smiled again, though the expression was false and empty on his usually open face. “Who are you kidding? Who are you trying to fool? You think I’m some stupid kid who’ll believe a few pretty words from a grown-up? I may not have lived as long as you, but I know a lot more about how this world works than you do. You can’t protect anyone, not from what’s out there or even from themselves. You can’t change anything. You can’t change who you are or where you come from or your fate. Don’t preach to me about what you think I can do. You have no idea.” And she didn’t. She had no idea how the Republic worked. It didn’t matter what she was, or how old she was, but no one, not even most of the Clones, knew how it worked. Sole did. Sole knew everything, and he knew when to keep his mouth shut. He never betrayed the secrets of the Republic, never told anyone what he knew or what he saw, not even Recoil. He just…couldn’t. Because when he discovered what he had, he knew that allowing any of it to leak would result in the downfall of the army.

His brothers were many in number, and not a single one was stupid. They were bred for absolute loyalty, but there was a limit, and if they knew what he knew, there would be no telling what they’d do, what would happen. Sole couldn’t allow that, because as much as he hated it, he was every bit the trained Akk dog they’d made him to be, and he only obeyed his master’s orders. Astraea was different; she was his taste of freedom, of what the world was like and had to offer. To have her so indifferent, so dismissive made his blood boil because she had no idea what she’d done to him, what she’d given him. He wanted to shake sense into her, to show her what she’d caused, to rip out the new feelings and emotions and lay them bare for her to see, but he didn’t know how because all of this was new to him and he’d never felt like this before. He didn’t understand any of it, and it made him all the angrier. “I don’t think you understand any of this,” he conceded at last, his shoulders slumping. “You don’t understand what you’ve done.”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby Flame » 04/14/2013 12:50 AM

It was funny, the ways of the universe. As unfair as it always seemed to be, it had somehow managed to put two of the most unlikely people in the world together in the most unlikely of ways, causing a clash of energies that was as oddly synergetic as it was destructive. The seemingly simple predator-prey relationship had quickly escalated into something so much more, and yet at the same time, so twisted. Somehow, their fates had become inexplicably tangled since their first encounter, it would seem. They kept meeting in the most unlikely of ways in the most unlikely of places, and their conversations tended to be…less than your average chit-chat about the weather, or even the dialogue between hunter and hunted. It seemed that both had broken down walls that had been thought impregnable, although whether that was a good thing was up to individual interpretation. All Astraea knew now was that she felt sorry for this sad creature, despite the fact that he’d blown a hole clear through her emotional defenses not so long ago.

No one really knew what they had, however little it was, until it was torn from them. She’d experienced it first-hand, and on a much more personal scale than Sole, and was now trying to teach him not to take it for granted before it slipped through his fingers. Of course, what she didn’t know was that it was a completely different opportunity that he was trying so hard to cling to, and one that didn’t involve his life within the army, or even his brothers. What he didn’t know was that it was a desperate and ephemeral hope that he was trying to hold on to, and that there was so much more to Astraea’s past than he could ever have dreamed. The barriers which he meant to break down held back a flood much greater than he could have known that he was dealing with, and he was the last person that she wanted to subject that burden to. He wouldn’t…couldn’t possibly understand. No one did, perhaps except for Syria. Those were demons that she’d never shared with anyone before in her life, and she saw no reason for that to change now.

“You say you can’t protect anyone, but you can try, and you will, as long as there is someone there for you to protect. On the battlefield and off, no matter how small the odds, as long as there is the slightest hint of hope, you will fight for it.” There was a moment as she let the words hang on the air, trying to remember what it felt like to have someone to protect. Syria hardly needed any protecting – if anything, she was more capable of handling herself than Astraea sometimes. “When you’ve fought every fight there is to fight and lost all you have to lose, then perhaps we’ll see eye-to-eye.” This conversation was beginning to tax her emotionally, but she wasn’t surprised. Sole seemed to have a way of doing that, she’d discovered. The alley around them was unnaturally quiet, as if even the rats and other vermin of the gutters had fallen silent and the entire world was listening intently to their exchange. Even the mournful breeze that moaned through the deserted streets had quieted to a hushed murmur.

Astraea likely would have simply walked away from the situation for good given another moment, but it was Sole’s change of tone when he spoke again that gave her pause. She knew she ought to just leave and that nothing good could come of this conversation, but his words tugged at the heartstrings she didn’t know she had, pleading for her to return. She turned slowly, knowing that she would soon regret her decision, but for the moment, her sapphire eyes came to rest upon his, reading the earnestness in his gaze and the slump in his shoulders. She studied him silently for a minute, her gaze inscrutable, then with a soft, almost weary sigh, allowed her feet to lead her soundlessly towards him. An almost imperceptible signal kept Syria at bay – much to the Khimera’s chagrin – knowing that the feline would only inadvertently cause more strife. There was no rhyme or reason to her actions, only the sudden impulse which had led up to them. When she finally reached him, she came to a stop a few feet in front of him, her gaze still holding his. She let the silence hang between them for a moment. “There’s a lot that I don’t understand,” she finally said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “But there’s just as much that you don’t understand either.”
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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 04/14/2013 1:12 AM

“I think I have lost all these is to lose,” Sole muttered bitterly, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and canting his head down, towards the ground. He was speaking more to himself than to her, because at this point, he was ready to walk away. Maybe if he reported back to HQ that he couldn’t find her, they’d send someone else to locate her and leave him out of this. Maybe he could slip back into his role as captain, step back into those boots, put the armor back on and forget she even existed. Maybe he could harden his heart and forget about these feelings and emotions and, pretend they didn’t mean anything, and get on with his very short life. His lips twisted into a sardonic smile, his eyes closing as he stared hard at the ground.

Giving up and walking away was the most tempting option he’d ever thought up, and he struggled to tear his gaze away from the tips of his boots and gaze back up at the sky, which was rapidly darkening with clouds. He vaguely remembered hearing something about rain later in the night, and Recoil had warned him about the change in weather, telling him an umbrella or a hood would be a good idea, but Sole had shrugged him off, concluding that he’d be done with his bounty before the rain hit. Seems he was wrong, and he’d been delayed a lot longer than he’d expected; long enough for the sky to darken and the air to dampen and the first sprinklings of rain beginning to slither down from the sky and coat his hair and skin and clothes in a fine mist of liquid. “Great,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing and a scowl slipping into place. “As if today couldn’t get any worse.”

He turned, ready to leave, ready to forget she existed and walk away because she just wasn’t getting it and he had no idea how to make her understand when he himself didn’t, but then she was there, striding towards him, close enough to touch, and Sole froze. His breath stuck in his throat as he gazed down at her, the soft sprinkles of rain hanging off his eyelashes and nearly blinding him. She was right there; he could reach out and touch her, pull her close to him, or shake some sense into her. He didn’t know which one sounded better, and his body trembled with the effort to stop himself from moving towards her, from trying to bring her closer. His fists clenched in his pockets, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his gaze from her and leave like he had so desperately wanted to only seconds ago.

Having her this close was ruining him, tearing up his resolve, forcing those strange emotions back up into his chest where they tightened and constricted and hurt so very much, like a bullet to the heart and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Closing his eyes, he took one step towards her, but halted himself from going any closer, stopped himself from reaching out to thread his fingers through her hair, beaded with rainwater, and crane her neck up to look him in the eyes. “Then tell me,” he whispered at last. “Tell me what I don’t understand. And I’ll try. For you.”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: For the Good of...Who? [P, Flame and I, Mature]

Postby Flame » 04/14/2013 1:53 AM

Astraea wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, standing here in front of Sole, staring up at him in the half-darkness of the quiet city street. Impulses were dangerous things, and yet as much as she knew that was true, she still fell prey to them occasionally when her resolve wavered. This was one of those times. It came down a few drops at a time first, then turned into a fine mist that coated everything around them with a thin, shimmering layer that gave the buildings and roads around them a slightly less grimy appearance. The light rain couldn’t wash away the years of dust and filth which had accumulated on every surface, but it at least cleaned the air, soaking up the soot and smog and leaving the breath just a little easier on the lungs. It was uncharacteristically warm for this time of year, and Astraea blinked in mild surprise as she felt it slowly gathering on her dark, chocolate brown hair, weighing it down slightly as it beaded before gently rolling off. She didn’t much mind the rain; it was warm and almost comforting as it held her in its embrace, seeping through her thin clothing to touch her cool skin, warming it ever so slightly.

The effect that her sudden proximity had on Sole was clear to see in the sudden tension in his body, and she could almost feel his heartbeat quicken from across the mere few feet that separated them. Perhaps he was afraid that she had finally given him enough chances, and that she was about to tear away what little freedom he’d found in leaving the army. Perhaps he was afraid she would take his life here and now and steal what little he had left from him – maybe that was the only way to get him to realize how much he feared death, and in that, discover just how much he had to live for. It never crossed her mind once that perhaps it was nothing more than the fact that her body was so tantalizingly close to his that caused his pulse to quicken and his breath to shallow. That even though those physical urges had been banished from her thoughts so long ago, she might still have those effects upon another. Sure, she had used it as a tool before in her line of work, but never did she think that Sole was a man to fall prey to such wiles.

However, she suddenly seemed to become aware of her actions as the Clone took one hesitant step towards her, and she almost shied away from him, all of a sudden as skittish as a flighty bird. One abrupt movement on his part, and she would have been gone, would have vanished into the darkness, not to be found again. Nevertheless, there she stayed, watching him carefully with bright, cautious eyes, feeling suddenly and inexplicably nervous in his presence. There had been a marked change in his behavior, but just what that was she couldn’t quite place a finger on. There was no cause for her to fear him; Syria was mere feet behind her, and she knew she could overpower or outrun him in an instant if necessary, yet the way he looked at her made her edgy and uneasy. His words, however, gave her pause – she was surprised to hear them. As far as the other men and women she had met up until this point, there had been nothing to understand about Astraea but for the fact that she was a dangerous hunter, and likely the last thing they would see before they met their fate.

Sole was the first person to actually edge his way close enough around her defenses to get the question out before she effective silenced him. That alone caused her to falter slightly, not entire sure how she was supposed to approach this situation. The longer she lingered close to him, the more she regretted her decision not to leave. Perhaps it would have been for the best if she had just left, and the two had gone their separate ways, back to the lives that they knew, back to a place where they could just shut out the darkness that lay hidden in their hearts, put their demons back to slumber. To be honest, his sudden sympathy left her feeling lonely and afraid, the realization that she’d been keeping this huge secret to herself for so many – too many – years striking her hard. She took a tentative step back, her gaze breaking away from his for a moment as she glanced down at her feet instead, suddenly unsure of herself. Just what had she gotten herself into this time? “It’s…not something that you would understand. Nor is it easy to explain.” She briefly glanced up at him again, but her eyes were more hesitant and questioning now than before. “I’ve had no reason to explain myself to anyone before. Why would I now?”
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