. . . . . entries for 27.8.02 . . . . .
'twas Shannon's little brother's birthday yesterday. He's ten now. :) Teehee. He got FFVII for his birthday. As in, he *wanted* FFVII for his birthday. Is that cool or what? And I got FFVIII back from them--or half of it anyway. ^.^() Since they're on discs three and four and I started a new, balance-the-character-levels and get-everything game, I only have the first two discs.
Erin has finally realized that Erin has not posted Redwing in a long, long time. So Erin's going to. ^.^
Six~Two
Night had fallen completely by the time we reached the forest. It was dangerous, I knew, but Corvus commanded--because he had somehow become the leader--that we rest up for the night.
“So much for protecting your sister from the wolfboy,” I said with a smirk.
“Oh, be quiet,” he snapped. “Diabine and I will take shifts for guard duty. I’ll go first.”
As if Corvus would be able to do anything besides shooting blindly at the thing! I knew it was mostly to keep watch on Diabine and wake us all if anything happened. I wished he would trust me more.
And Diabine too, if it came to that. As if he would ever really try anything. . . Corvus was just paranoid.
Margie and I could guard too. We really could. I realized that he was trying to be chivalrous, but still. . . the nerve of the boy, to think that he’s stronger, better in any way, than either of us.
We slept, for a while. Before long, a light shone in our camp, and we woke up. We didn’t wake up to sunlight, but to a chorus of several kinds of strange light.
From the trees, there was a crackling, many-colored light. From high in the sky--where, I couldn’t place--there was a feud of unnatural, violet darkness and a bright, shining whiteness. All around us there were marvelous shades of color and light.
I rubbed my eyes, and looked more closely.
We were surrounded by phoenixes of all elements I could imagine. Even a little icy one--the one that shattered last we were here, I realized--was there, watching us curiously.
Us. What us?
I glanced about again. There was Diabine, standing guard with his back turned to me, trying to ignore the phoenixes in a way I can’t say I understood. His fists were clenched and his knuckles were white.
I couldn’t see Corvus or Marguerite. I would have laughed if I hadn’t known it would break Diabine’s intense concentration on nothing at all. Off in the woods, playing their game of love, I had no doubt. How cute. . . how absolutely charming. How sickening.
I rolled over and closed my eyes, in a ridiculous attempt at sleep. The light around me was far too intense to ignore. I sat up again.
“. . . Diabine?” I said, softly, just in case he really shouldn’t be disturbed. I suppose I didn’t want to shake his concentration from. . . whatever it was. But he turned around immediately, with a choked look on his face, as if he had just had a particularly sour grape.
“Ahem. Yes?” he asked, stiffly.
“Maybe it’s time you went to sleep. I’ll stand watch.”
“No, no,” he said, with a half-stifled yawn. “I’m quite alright. Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t,” I confessed.
“Why not?” he said, innocently, as if he had no idea that we were surrounded by living plumes of flame.
“There’s too much light, you silly,” I said with a scowl, “what with all of the phoenixes about.”
“. . . yes. Them. Well. Eer. . .” he said hesitantly.
“I see that Margie and Corvus have went off somewhere,” I prompted.
“Yes. So they have,” he conceded. “I suppose I didn’t notice. You see, I’m rather trying to pay no mind at all to the birds. You know what foxes do to birds.”
“Yes, I know,” I answered. “Funny. My name means blackbird, did you know that?”
“Not surprising,” he said, still trying not to look into the light. All of the magnificent hues reflected off of his deep brown eyes in a pretty sort of way. “You and Corvus both control them, don’t you?”
“Corvus? He’s afraid of them,” I said with a halfhearted laugh. “I suppose he could, if he somehow acquired the guts for it.”
“. . . funny,” he muttered.
“What is?”
“Oh, I’m your bodyguard,” he said dismissively. “A fox guarding a bird. Kind of asking for disaster, isn’t it?”
“So long as the fox doesn’t try to pull anything, it’ll be fine.”
“Right. Well. What would I try to pull, exactly?”
I considered this. “I don’t know really. Maybe Corvus is right about you? Maybe you’re a devious adolescent with girls on his mind constantly.”
“Pshhh,” he said distastefully. “After being raised as a bodyguard? I hardly know about romance. How does it feel?”
“As if I would know,” I said, but I knew I was blushing my painful purple-blue blush.
“. . . I guess maybe you wouldn’t,” he said with a sigh. “It’s a shame.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. I sort of want to know if I am. You know,” he said softly, “if I’m. . .”
Corvus and Margie picked an absurdly good time to step back into camp. They were holding hands.
Diabine handled this smoothly. “. . . if I’m really supposed to be here, you know? As the guardian of a nation. . .”
Looking back, I realize what an intelligently made transition it was. If he had said something ordinary, about being tired for example, I’m sure that Corvus would expect something. Since he spoke of something profound and meaningful, Corvus would snigger and delight in his bad timing.
“Oh! Did we, er, interrupt something?” Marguerite said as Corvus snatched away his hand. She looked a little disappointed.
Corvus looked delighted that he had caught us talking, though.
“Nothing really,” he said, and bit his lip in the most convincing show of nervousness I’ve ever seen. He really is a clever chap.
“Come on, come on!” Margie sat down on a patch of grass. “Tell us.”
“Yes, do tell,” Corvus said with a smirk, as he sat down on a fallen locust tree. The lush emerald leaves were still on the thorned branches. A delicate phoenix, feathers of a light green, sat among them. It didn’t shine with a unique sort of flame as most of the others did, but plumes of daffodils and tulips sprung into existence all around it. It burned with life.
“I was just, er. . .” he stuttered, blushing furiously all the while. It was adorable, and I had to stop myself from laughing.
“Diabine was. . . um. . .” I chimed in, and I fancied I was blushing myself.
“Don’t want to talk about it, huh?” Marguerite asked comfortingly. “Then you don’t have to. Right, Corvus?”
Corvus coughed as Margie’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “Absolutely.” He glanced around. “Looks like the locals have taken a shine to you.”
“Yes, it looks that way, doesn’t it,” I said, in a cheerful sort of way. “Diabine’s been trying to ignore them. I think his canine instincts are trying to win him over.”
“Er,” he said, with a far more genuine awkwardness.
“Afraid you’re going to eat them?” Corvus asked, without any great amount of malice.
“A bit,” he confessed.
“I know how that feels,” he said, with a quick glance to Margie. “Wanting something that you know you shouldn’t take. Something that’s wrong to take.”
He was silent. That simple hush was unbearably uncomfortable. It begged to be broken.
I was the one who did so.
“What were you doing away from camp?” I asked, as if I didn’t know. “We were worried about you. The forest’s dangerous.”
It was their turn to blush and look awkward.
“You weren’t doing things hardly becoming of even a wolfboy, were you?” Diabine asked slyly.
Margie coughed, her cheeks brilliant pink by now. “That’s really none of your business.”
It was, looking back, a night of overwhelmingly difficult communication and many, many lies. It was also the night that I realized that there was not only one, but two games afoot.
There were eight redwings sitting among the leaves. When six flew away, and the other two perched beside the green phoenix, I finally grasped what it meant. I finally realized, that night, that the first verse had also gone by, without my noticing. I glanced at Diabine. He looked more relaxed now, somehow. He smiled at me, and I felt a little bit funny.
There are two blackbirds. Only one could be the redwing.
I didn’t know what that phrase meant, not really. Not then.
I wish I had never found out.
Aaah, it's getting colder. . . colder. . . and soon the leaves are gonna be falling down, and then it's gonna be winter! I don't look forward to it at all. I want summer back. I didn't do enough with it.
. . . . . entries for 23.8.02 . . . . .
 |
This, too, is amusing. ^.^ I interpret this as them saying that I'm messed up, go away, you don't belong to any right and proper religion, so blah. :P
Take the test here!! Made by Jenna and Robbie.
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All unholy weirdness. ^.^() It's an amusing selector, wouldn't you say?
. . . . . entries for 22.8.02 . . . . .
What the hell. ::knows nothing about actors in general. . .::
I am...
Which Fellowship Actor are YOU?
What Type of Villain are You?
mutedfaith.com /
<º>
This is also amusing. Cassie is an evil genius, and I. . . I am a spiteful villain.
Not FAIR. I wanna be Hojo, dammit! I'd make a MUCH better Hojo than Cassie! :P Or Kefka, or Edea--of course Kuja or Sephiroth would be better than ANY of them. :P They probably don't even have a category for prettyboy supervillains. . . ::sniffs:: Sadness!
Steve has a blog! Steve has a blog! Everyone! Go see Stephen's blog!!!!
And, Steve wants suggestions on what to blog. I blog my novel-in-progress, Redwing Blackbird, when I have nothing better to blog, and I blog random thoughts as well as quiz results. I do not read Gashlycrumb Tiny books. ^.^() It was on Cassie's blog. Cassie knows a lot more about the fine art of blog-rambling than I. ^.^
. . . . . entries for 21.8.02 . . . . .
 You are most like Rhoda, consumed by fire! Created by Thren.Which Gashlycrumb Tiny are you? |
IT BURNS!!!
Someone! Anyone! Help me! I'm drowning in the void! The VOID!
It is that horrible void. . . created by no one commenting on your blog!
AAAAAH! THE VOOOID! ::dies::
Does your weblog own you?
NO. That can't be right.
HI STEPHEN!!!
We love you, Steve. ^.^
:: how jedi are you? ::
This is amusing.
According to a philosopher selector on selectsmart.com, I'm most similar to Descartes and the least similar to Sartre. Most of the guys on the selector are existentialists whom I may know more about than my St. Johns-going sister, which amuses me. Why, I ask; why is it that St. Johns saves all the existentialism goodness until the end? A lot of it's pretty depressing, too. Heidegger for example. We didn't spend a lot of time on him, though.
(and he wasn't on the selector. haha. ha. ha!)
If anyone here has not yet taken the mythological creature quiz, do so now, before I eat you. :P In my most recent runthrough I came up as gryphon. I was actually trying to be me, too. I wonder if that means I'm not a succubus anymore?. . .
. . . . . entries for 17.8.02 . . . . .
I hath wrought holy havoc upon Brick, New Jersey and am currently in the process of wreaking holy havoc in Annapolis, Maryland. Arthur hates me. If you don't know who Arthur is. . . well, since few of my readers probably know who Arthur is anyway, you can ask if you *must.*
Hah. The other female members of my family have interesting ideas about goings-on recently. I shall have to communicate them more directly to those whom is concerns.
Cassie's room was neat before we arrived, then it got un-neatened by the hurricane that is the Sherman visiting ethic. No one is online. Cassie hasn't changed her wallpaper since she got the damned computer. It's getting BORING. -.o Any which way, Erin ought to be bonding with her family members instead of with the ergonomic keyboard that hates her. :P My father is making faces at me. I shall communicate again when I return from the depths of Annapolis.
Ciao for now!
. . . . . entries for 13.8.02 . . . . .
It's a beautiful day for blogging. I'm listening to Alanis Morissette at max volume, I know that tomorrow is a total do-nothing day, and I have been assured that I am not as big of a know-it-all as Cas. But we all knew that, right?
Well, life is busy being lived by other people at the moment. Today wasn't of any great note. I thought about the past and I thought about the future and I thought very little, if at all, about the present. I decided not to watch the meteor showers in favor of a West Nile-free existance in the future, because I have this charming stagnant pond in my backyard that mosquitoes simply adore.
On Thursday I wreak holy havoc in Brick, New Jersey. On Friday I wreak holy havoc in Annapolis, Maryland. I look forward to wreaking havoc in both of these locations, but moreover I look forward to seeing the people I will have wrought havoc upon. ^.^
Final Fantasy VIII is good for boredom. It's better when you're *not* on the first disc. :P Anyway, since I've babbled about practically nothing thus far, I think I'll just quit babbling altogether right now. Bye bye. ^.^
Aaaah. ::stretch:: I did it, I did it! I woke up before nine on a do-nothing day of summer! Ahahaha! Ahah. . . ah. . . ::yaaaaaawn:: Well, since I have nothing in particular to blog, I'll just post more Redwing for ya, hm? I like this chapter. I like this new character on general terms. He's. . . happy. o.o() In a very adolescent-ish sort of way.
Who likes it? Who hates it? What have I got to do to make the bloody thing longer!?
Five~One
I gasped. So did Corvus and Margie.
“Diabine?” Margie exclaimed, “YOU’RE the Diabine? Guardian of Kalth?”
“I am,” he said regretfully. “I imagine it’s a bit of a disappointment. You were probably expecting a demonic sort, you know, fangs and flames and all of that.”
I must have been the most surprised of all. This handsome boy, some sort of spectral guardian?
“You’re really a, a. . .” I began.
“No, I’m not a demon,” he said helpfully. “I’m just a kid. The last demon Diabine died hundreds of years ago. Since then they’ve just been people like me, good with bow and arrow, fire, wolves and that.”
“And good with women,” said a distant-sounding voice from the doorway. “That’s always a trait of the Diabine too, I expect.” I turned around and saw Princess Kathryn, the youngest of the Jeys. She was thirteen years old. “Father, Mother--you’re sending Diabine away?”
“How did you get down here?” King Mortimer cried.
“It isn’t difficult to get past the guards when you’re part of the royal family, Father,” she said irritably. “Why are you sending him away?”
Corvus stood up, turned to Kathryn and bowed.
“Lady Kathryn,” he said, in that strangely dashing voice of his, “he is to be our bodyguard. Have your parents not told you of us?”
“Are you the vampires?” she asked, as if it wasn’t really all that impressive.
Margie, who was a little bit angry at the girl for her disrespect, stood up. “Yes, we are vampires, in fact. Blood-sucking, day-sleeping, never-dying vampires.”
“Marguerite,” I hissed.
“Sorry, she’s just being. . . full of herself,” Margie said, by way of explanation.
“Lady Kathryn,” Diabine said smoothly, “I’m sure you understand that I must do as the king and queen order me. I’m quite sorry.”
“You’ll come back?” she asked. There may as well have been hearts in her eyes.
“Of course,” he said shortly. “And now, I believe I must go.”
“Actually,” the king said quickly, “we have a bit more to discuss. Kathryn, if you would leave for a moment. . . ?”
The princess ran off in a huff, slamming the oak door behind her. From this side, it was polished and painted black.
“We also have some information regarding your father,” the queen said quietly. “He is, of course, the reason you are vampires.”
So THAT was the reason for all of this garbage about our heritage.
“Count von Blackbird has been in hiding for the past twelve years,” she continued. “He is hiding away in Phoenix Grove in an abandoned mansion.”
“We are confident that you children will not use your powers in inappropriate ways,” King Mortimer said, delicately, “but we wish you to go and speak to your father of these matters. We would like him to come out of isolation, but we would like you to report his condition to us. If he has been. . . if he is unstable,” he corrected himself, “we may have to put him to rest.”
“Understood,” Corvus replied.
“What do you mean, understood!?” I cried. “He’s our father, we can’t let him be killed!”
“We never knew him, did we?” he said simply. “And would you rather have him killed, or us?”
“We would not kill you if you refused,” the queen said swiftly, “though we would have no choice but to send a different party to check on your father. We thought that he would not take unkindly to his own children, so we waited. However. . .”
“Even if he did try anything, you would be prepared better than most,” the king elaborated. “We wanted to avoid unnecessary loss of life, your father’s or your own, or anyone else’s.”
“We’ll do it,” Corvus agreed.
“We will?” Margie said, her voice trembling and shrill.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “After all, we’ll have the Diabine protecting us.”
“That you will,” Diabine said with that smile of his.
It was probably the most attractive smile I’d ever seen. I reminded myself of my own face, though, my pale skin, my black hair, those horrible, horrible yellow eyes.
No one could ever love a face like that.
I wanted to smile, like it was nothing, but I didn’t, because I knew my fangs would show.
“When shall we set off, then?” he asked smoothly, wiping the thoughts from my mind.
“Two days from now,” Corvus said promptly, “because tomorrow, we will get to know our bodyguard.”
The guardian smiled. “Yeah, right. What is there to know?”
“We only know you as the guardian of Kalth,” he answered. “I think we’d all like to know you as a person.”
Diabine glanced uncertainly at the king, who nodded.
“Do as they say,” he said shortly. “Those are our orders.”
“Then we shall take our leave, Your Majesties,” Corvus said. “Ladies?”
We stood up and curtsied. It occurred to me afterwards that everything, due to the atmosphere that Corvus seemed to radiate, seemed very clipped and precise. All words were spoken briskly, as if everyone was feeling tense and rushed.
It was a shame. I would have liked to talk to the king and queen more.
As we walked out the door, I thought about Diabine. He walked behind me up the stairs, and I tried to put my thoughts away. Away on anything. They wouldn’t budge; I thought and thought about him and his beautiful face, his big brown eyes.
The guardian of a nation. . .
I guess I chose a pretty lousy time to fall in love. He was so. . . perfect. Perfect in every way, and me. . . I was just a scary little vampire girl.
“So,” he said as we reached the top of the staircase and began our walk to the courtyard, “what exactly are we going to do? It’s fairly late, is it not? Where will I be staying?”
“I hope you don’t mind a bit of an overnight?” said Corvus mildly.
“Of course not. With whom?”
“Who do you think?”
He paused for a moment. “I couldn’t say.”
“You honestly think,” he said, in more of a statement tone than an inquiring voice (although my brother was just bad with inquiring altogether), “that I would allow you to sleep in the same room with my sister or Marguerite.”
“No, I. . . well. . .” The Diabine bit his lip as he walked, looking down. His cheeks turned red. “How old ARE you exactly?”
“Twelve,” said Corvus. “And you?”
“Fifteen,” he replied, “so I suppose I would think of such things more. . . openly.”
“We’re TWELVE,” Margie echoed. “What are you, nuts?”
“Well, I just. . . I’m sorry, I guess. I’m not used to other kids.”
We emerged in the courtyard, and stepped through the outer gates without so much as a second glace from the guards.
“I guess I thought you were older,” he admitted as we began to walk through the moor. “You all act much more mature, you know?”
“YOU aren’t that mature,” Margie said, voice filled with disgust. “I mean, really, sleeping in the same room with a girl. . .”
“What about you?” he said, gesturing to me. “You haven’t said too much about it.”
I could feel my blood rush to my cheeks. Did I even have blood? Did I blush blue or purple? Did I just not blush at all? “I. . . I think Corvus is being overprotective of Margie. I don’t think he’d even give it a second thought if it was just me. . .” I said thoughtfully.
“That’s nonsense!” Corvus cried. “You’re my sister, I wouldn’t allow some, some. . .”
“Ruffian,” Diabine supplied helpfully. “Wolfboy.”
“That’s right,” he said confidently, “some rogue, some ruffian, some lewd wolfboy. . . I wouldn’t let him sleep in your room, ever!”
“What if we were all, say, ten years older?” I asked snidely.
“What if. . . we were in love?” Diabine said.
How intelligent he must have felt right then. That was the greatest hole in Corvus’ defenses: Love.
“That would be entirely different,” he said dismissively, “but you’re not ten years older and you’re not in love.” He sounded embarrassed.
“How would you know, Corvus?” Margie asked, purely out of curiosity I could tell.
“They don’t have that look about them,” he said simply.
“Have you ever seen hearts in my eyes?”
He paused. This was obviously a new approach to him. “No, but-”
“But absolutely nothing,” she snapped. “They COULD be, or if they’re not they could, you know, fall in love.”
“Fine then,” he conceded begrudgingly.
“My point is,” the guardian said in a philosophical tone, “that we wouldn’t have to be. . .” and he spoke the words as if they were a grotesque and vulgar thing, “sleeping together. If you were mature enough to handle it, we could just be talking as friends, going to sleep in our separate beds, or even next to each other. Just talking. You’re too narrow-minded, too immature to see that.”
Corvus didn’t respond.
“Sorry,” the Diabine said to break the silence.
“It’s nothing,” Corvus replied, too quickly. “Nothing.”
The forest drew closer as we marched across the moor; Sedagé was west of it.
“Is that Phoenix Grove?” Diabine asked.
I was a little surprised by this. “Haven’t you seen it before?”
He smiled sheepishly. “No. I don’t get out much.”
“Can you really. . . turn into a wolf?” Margie asked hesitantly, since the floor seemed to be open to questions. “Like the legends say?”
“Not exactly,” he replied in what could only be described as an embarrassed tone. WHY would he be embarrassed by that? “Only a fox,” he said, almost trying to hide in his shirt, it seemed.
“. . . the sly, tawny fox,” Corvus said, faintly.
“Another verse?. . .” I said, just as vaguely I realized.
“Verse?” Diabine interrupted, his voice decidedly un-vague. “What’re you talking about?”
So we explained to him about the verse. It took a while, and it was dark by the time we reached the edge of the locust grove. I didn’t mention my dream, of course.
“So both of you have to complete the verse?” he asked.
“I thought it was whoever did it first, actually. . .” Margie answered.
“So Merle hasn’t really started her verse, has she?” he said carefully. “Since the first line is that love thing. She never got beyond that.”
I took a moment to consider this. “So I guess he’s gonna beat me to it. . .”
“I would think so. Unless you hurry up about it.”
I scowled at the thought. “Oh, right, like anyone’s gonna fall in love with me.”
He paused. “I understand what you think.”
Five blackbirds behind us flew away to the forest. Another--one lonely little redwing--flew onto my shoulder and, if such were possible, smiled.
“But I don’t believe it for a second.”
. . . . . entries for 9.8.02 . . . . .
Aha! So it finally happens--Erin is BLOGGING! AHAHAHAHA! Haha. Ehem. Well.
. . . . . entries for 8.8.02 . . . . .
Hi, world. It's an ungodly late hour and Cassie will want me to be off in two minutes, so I'm just going to post Redwing real quick--I'll talk about life at CTY tomorrow. Promise! ^.^
:P Blah. Where in the world is Charlie Hyland? Tell me! NOW!!
Four
I stayed in my room until breakfast, reading sometimes, thinking sometimes. Once or twice I bit my lip, to test the sharpness of my fangs, and by the time my mum called us out to eat, it was a bloody mess. I wiped at my chin until my hands were sticky with blood, and then I ran into the washroom and scrubbed it all away. There were still marks where the fangs had cut my skin, and I was afraid that they were still stained with burgundy.
I had always thought I just had wear-resistant teeth, so they didn’t become blunt over time; now that I knew why my canines were really so sharp, I intensely wished that I had never found out.
I sat down quietly. The table, and everyone sitting at it, was silent, for want of a better word; it was a silence that reached far past lack of sound, into a roaring, constant drone of quiet.
My mum flipped over one of her pancakes idly before spearing it upon her fork. “So, Merle, did you sleep well?”
“Yes, Mum,” I replied automatically.
“Any interesting dreams?”
“No, Mum.”
“What about you, Corvus?”
It was like prodding a bomb long due to go off. My brother erupted into a detailed story of his dream.
I could tell that he hadn’t really dreamed. Corvus loves spontaneously making up stories for everything, but he seldom dreams. This particular tale was quite flowery indeed, full of heroes and villians and maidens and knights.
Fairy tales. I had begun to develop a deep dislike of fairy tales. You could read them, write them, or even watch them happen. But no matter what, fairy tales never, ever happened to you.
I crammed a slice of pancake into my mouth and swallowed without chewing hardly at all. I thought for a moment before saying timidly, “Mum?”
“Yes, Merle?”
“Do you think I’ll ever have someone who loves me?”
Marguerite and Corvus’s heads snapped towards me.
She looked down. “I never thought I would find anyone either, dear. But I did.”
“What about me?”
“I don’t know, dear. . . You make your own destiny.”
I pulled my knees up and hugged them to my chest. “Then I’ll never find anyone. . . No one could ever love a girl like me.”
I was looking at Margie out of the corner of my eye for the entire time. After a while, my attention shifted to Corvus, who was looking very forlorn and guilt-stricken.
You don’t have the right to be sad, I thought. You’ve got Margie, and she’s got you. There’s no reason for you to sit there with that look. . .
You can’t have the tears.
You have love. You can’t have both.
My mother was quiet for a few moments.
“It’s your life. Live it only as you wish, Merle.”
I stabbed a pancake, looking down.
The table plunged into silence again for a few moments. It didn’t last long because, just a millisecond later, a sharp knock was heard at the door.
“This is the Jey Royal Guard!” a rough, bullish voice called. “Open up immediately!”
My mother stood and walked to the door, opening it slowly.
The man, dressed in palace uniform, looked around thirty or so. His face was haggard, torn with battlescars, and of a pink, fleshy tone; this complexion was made more prominent with his fiery red beard and moustache, along with sideburns and a ragged mop atop his head. His eyes were plain and blue; the kind of eyes you genuinely had to expect on such an honest face.
“Oi there, Kait! I didn’t expect to see you here!” the man said with a hearty guffaw, all formalities erased for the time being. “I hope you haven’t forgotten who I am?”
“I should think that you’re a certain palace guard named Dante Valetiero. Come on in, man, it’s chilly out there.”
Dante stepped in gladly. “Long time no see! Where’ve you been lately, Kait?”
“It’s my time off. . .” she said ponderously, scratching her head. She was acting very different, like an entirely different person. “I’ve been acting as a mother instead of a palace guard.” She shook her head, remembering herself. “These are my children, Merle and Corvus, and Merle’s friend, Marguerite.”
I waved. It may seem impossible, but that wave had an edge. . . a kind of snide tone. I couldn’t help it; I was definitely in a bad mood.
“Hello there, kids! Mummy here doesn’t prod you with her sword or anything, does she?” he chuckled good-naturedly.
I stared back, giving him an odd look.
He sat down in an empty chair, and Mum sat down in her own.
“Mother doesn’t even let us NEAR her saber,” Corvus said stiffly, filling in the silence.
“Ho, now, Kait, you never even let ‘em play with it?”
“Of course not!” my mother said, quite ruffled. “They could kill themselves if they started waving it around and suchlike!”
“Then I’m glad I don’t have some sorta sharp weapon lying about for my kiddies to get to!” Dante said. “Did your mum here ever say anything about the mage in her squadron, you two?”
“No,” I said dryly. “Who is it?”
“Me, o’ course!”
“Really,” I droned. It was more of a statement than a question.
“Yep. Black mage, specifically, since I specialize in battle magics.”
“Wow!” Margie piped, sounding enthusiastic (quite unlike the rest of us). “Could you show us?”
“Ho, it’s dangerous, especially in a closed space!”
“Please?”
“I dunno. . . Whaddaya think, Kait?”
“Maybe later,” my mother said quickly. “Anyway, why did you drop by here, Dante?”
“Oh, right! I almost forgot!” Dante pulled a scroll from his cloak and unfurled it. He cleared his throat and began, “Miss Merle Blackbird-”
I perked up. A palace message? To me?
“-and Mister Corvus Blackbird-”
That caught my brother’s attention as well.
“-the king cordially invites you to come to the palace tomorrow evening. The king has business concerning both of you, regarding family issues.”
I blinked. “Family issues? Shouldn’t Mum come too, then?”
“Ah, no,” Dante said, shaking his head, “you can only go to the palace formally like that if yer invited special. It’s in bad taste otherwise.” He glanced down at the scroll. “Wait a bit, there’s more. It says here that close and trusted friends may join you, but be warned that they may be lost.”
“Lost,” Corvus echoed flatly.
“Aye, seems like it. Don’t ask me, I’m just a messenger!” Dante stood and stretched. “I’ll see ya on the morrow, Kait!” The hulking guard walked with surprisingly soft footfalls out the door.
Silence fell again, and I remembered my melodramatic little train of thought.
That’s right. You can’t have the tears.
“Can we go?” Corvus asked abruptly.
My mother looked puzzled for a moment’s time. “I can’t stop you, can I? The king wouldn’t stand for it if you didn’t come.”
“Then we’re going?”
“I suppose so.”
“What about the close friends?” Margie asked.
“Your decision. Remember what Dante said, though.”
“Good grief!” I blurted. “Why would they want to see us? Why might friends be ‘lost,’ as they so delicately put it?”
No one responded. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected a response in the first place, but I glared about the table before sulkily stabbing my final pancake.
I wonder if my fangs could cut so easily, I thought bemusedly. Mother certainly must know. She’s not a vampire. So how did Corvis and I. . . ?
I snapped out of my trance. Of COURSE. Good grief, I was blind, absolutely blind.
I got up without a word, put my dish in the washbasin and headed to my room. The door slammed shut behind me; I’m not sure if I actually applied force to it or not. I could almost see them wince as I sat down, thinking of what to say, what to do to explain it. I couldn’t go. They must know. They had to know. . .
No one could, I thought coldly. No one but them could know, and then. . .
Margie then opened the door to my room, quite without knocking, and I said to her, without glancing up for a moment, “what?”
“. . . What do you think they’ll do to us?” she asked, anxiously.
“Kill us,” I replied simply, looking down, my head in my hands. “Everyone who knows. They can’t have vampires running around this place, can they?”
“They can’t, though! It’s. . . illegal, to just kill people. . . just because. . . because. . .”
“Because they have the ability to mess up your perfect society?” I said helpfully.
“Because they’re different!” she said defiantly. “The Princess Kathryn would certainly object to three children of her own age being. . .” she choked on her words, “murdered. Just because of that, because of being different.”
“Marguerite,” I said flatly, “people don’t understand the concept of a completely innocent vampire. It’s not something that crops up often.”
“Couldn’t they just. . . de-fang us or something, then?”
“I doubt it. We still have those whatsitcalled, telekinetic powers.”
“What’s that?”
I sighed. “Mind control. Turning people into zombies. That.”
“. . . We do?”
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” I warned, “because you’re likely to regret it, unless we can escape.”
“. . . You’re both exaggerating,” came a voice floating from the doorway.
I can’t say I recognized that voice when I heard it, because I honestly didn’t. It was a melodious and handsome voice. It should have come from a tall, dark man, with a crafty smile and twinkling, intelligent eyes.
No, it came from my brother, who closed the door behind him softly when he entered. If I took a moment to look at him, he looked like a miniaturized version of whoever ought to use the voice; and, I realized, if he wasn’t my brother I’d find him quite handsome.
So, I thought, this is what Margie has that I’ll never have. . .
“The Jeys wouldn’t dare kill the children of a member of their Royal Guard,” he continued, in that same beautiful voice I had never heard before. “Good guards are so hard to find in times of peace.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?” I asked sourly.
“I suggest we go and see them like we’re supposed to,” he said in a more familiar voice-of-reason tone. “If they try to pull anything, we can run. On the other hand, if we try to pull something first, they’ll follow us even if they weren’t going to kill us in the first place.”
His eyes really are quite lovely, I thought, hardly listening. I had never noticed, but Corvus’ eyes really were beautiful; they had the look of twin harvest moons, only inches above the twilight horizon. I wondered if my eyes looked exactly like his. I suppose. . . I see why Marguerite is so. . . attracted to him.
“. . . But no biting anyone. Ever,” he said crisply, “unless they’re just about to kill us and we haven’t got a choice.”
“Agreed,” I said immediately. I wasn’t so overjoyed about the idea of biting another person anyway. The entire thing seemed like something only monsters did.
But I am a monster, I reminded myself. And a powerful one, no mistake.
It was, as I look back on it, really too bad that I was so worried about what I’d go through if I bit someone. I had a great deal of power resting in my hand, and if only I was bold enough to use it. . . I may have broken away from this entire predicament, broken away from. . . the next verse.
I dreaded it. I wondered what, or who, this “tawny fox” was.
I learned eventually that I had no reason to fear it.
“We have two days,” I said in the tones of a commander, “so we’d better get ready.”
* * *
So we did.
For the next two days, we planned, went on six different jogs of the moorland, and, mostly, practiced.
Practiced fighting.
We were worried that, if we got caught, we would have to fight the guards and live, be taken prisoner, or die. Of these, the first obviously appealed to us the most.
Margie’s father, surprisingly enough, used a strange foreign kind of weapon he called a duel morningstar. It reminded me of the nunchakus my mother’s old friend, Lang, had used, except it looked quite a bit more painful. The monstrous thing was made of iron and mostly looked like a pair of nunchakus connected with that same long chain, except for the eight-pound iron spheres at either end, sharp spikes protruding from every angle of them.
And, imagine, Marguerite could actually use those gruesome things! It frightened me to even look at her when she was swinging them around.
Corvus, well. . . it was quite curious, because apparently he had been able to use a rifle for quite some time. It was a shock to Margie and I, but he had a long gun that looked like a hunting rifle, but whenever he shot anything it was much more accurate than any such weapon I had ever seen.
Don’t ask me how he got it, because I really don’t know. I thought maybe he had found it, or snatched it from our mother, but when I asked he smiled and said, “none of those. I could ask you the same thing about your dagger, and you wouldn’t know either.”
Oh, fine, so I have a dagger. It’s somewhere between twelve and eighteen inches, and it’s made out of a curious blue-silver metal. I’ve heard Corvus call it mythril before, but I haven’t the slightest clue what mythril is.
Of course I swished it around a bit when I was younger, for I’ve had it as long as I can remember. I’ve never been any good at it, though. But now, when I know that I have to use it, that this silly little scrap of metal is going to have blood on it. . . I’ve suddenly become quite good at it.
Both of our weapons--Corvus’ rifle and my dagger--have curious runes on them. It’s as if whoever forged the weapons took a separate piece, one as ornate as a piece of jewelery, and welded it onto the lead and mythril. On both are iron silhouettes of birds, with copper splashes on the wings, forged onto the hilt and trigger.
We both knew what it meant. We both knew.
It’s just that we didn’t know we knew.
* * *
When the time came, we all had quite a lot of fun playing dress-up before we left.
I, naturally, wore my blackbird outfit. Corvus, being Corvus as he is, wore a rather drab black suit. Margie. . .
Well, Margie could get away with whatever it was, that’s the point. I couldn’t.
In any case, we set off to the place with our weapons concealed carefully. Marguerite hid her nunchakus. . . well, I wish I could tell you, but she never told me and it was impossible to tell among all the frilly lace and puffed fabric of her dress. Corvus and I just put them in our cloak pockets, since our cloaks were already so baggy and formless.
We walked to the gap between two mountains where the stately castle was set, for it wasn’t quite a mile between there and the town’s edge.
It didn’t look like a castle, really. It looked more like a very thick, hollow wall between two gigantic towers, such that running into it would be very painful.
None the less, it was the palace. We walked to the drawbridge tentively and, before we had a chance to call to the guards. . .
“Marguerite, what ARE you doing here?”
Margie froze. “Oh, bugger,” she cursed under her breath. “My dad.”
Indeed, up to then we had completely forgotten that all of our parents worked at the palace. Just then we had a rather rude awakening to the fact that, no, we hadn’t told Margie’s parents.
“Hullo, Poppy!” she called up jovially, as Margie always did. “You know, it’s the silliest thing, but the people at the palace invited Corvy and Merle to go to a banquet and they invited me and I completely forgot to tell you--”
“Marguerite, dear, I’m not going to send you home. Your mother was worried sick as to where you’d been for the past few days.”
“I was getting ready for the banquet, Poppy,” she said primly, spinning around in her ruffled dress. “Do you like my dress?”
“It’s very pretty, dear,” he said, as sincerely as a man can speak when he couldn’t be more sarcastic.
“Thank you.”
“So, you all have official palace business?”
“Here for the banquet, Mister Lyons,” Corvus said stoutly.
“Indeed. And how have you been, Corvus? Merle?”
“Just fine,” he replied, for the both of us.
“Jolly good.” Mister Lyons disappeared behind a rampart, and the gates swung slowly, ponderously, outwards.
We stepped inside, where there was a brief and well-groomed courtyard before a second door where another guard stood.
I recognized him before the others.
“Mister Valetiero?” I asked politely.
“Aye, Miss Blackbird,” Dante replied in that gruff voice of his. “Here for your royal to-do, are ye?”
“That we are,” Corvus said in that same brisk little voice.
“I’ll need to see yer invitation, then.”
I pulled the roll of parchment out of my cloak pocket, carefully.
Not carefully enough. My knife fell and clattered on the cobbles of the pathway.
Dante bent down and picked it up, almost daintily. “Is this yours, lass?”
I swallowed a knot in my throat. “Yessir, I mean, er. . . Yes, it’s mine, Mister Valtiero.”
“Gotcher family crest on it,” he observed, turning my precious dagger over and over in his large but gentle hands. “Fine mythrilwork too, I daresay. But why’d you bring it to the palace?”
“Must’ve forgotten to take it out of my pocket! Ha, ha, ha.” The laugh was hollow and empty, a very sad sound indeed.
“Aye, really? I do that all the time.” He handed it back nonchalantly. “I trust ye won’t have a reason to be using it, so here’s it back. Careful the other guards don’t catch you with it.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be very careful. Very, very careful.” I took it back, carefully, and slipped it in my pocket, carefully.
“Aye, and that goes for you two also,” he said with a wink. “Ye all forgot to unconceal yer weapons, didjer? Don’t believe it for a second, I don’t. But that’s fine. Don’t be stupid enough to use them, that’s the ticket. Scoot along now, don’t keep them waiting.”
So we did, palms sweating and shaking like mad.
If Dante could tell we were hiding weapons so easily, what was to stop other guards from seeing the same thing? I was worried, and I could tell that the others were, too. We walked into the main castle within the courtyard.
It was lavishly furnished with red carpets and tapestries, fireplaces and torches in every corner. The floor beneath the tapestries was granite, laced with quartz and polished not by hundreds of workers but instead by the sands of time. Nothing used to be polished in this place, I knew, because it wasn’t originally built as a castle. Sedagé used to be a war village, for it is protected on all sides by mountains, except for that curious gap. The castle, meant as a fortress, was built as a makeshift mountain.
We walked alone through these ancient halls, scarlet flames and crimson banners flickering, to the banquet hall.
Which is curious for a castle, I’m sure you think. Most kingdoms would have escorts for their guests, but it’s never been a Jey family tradition. Don’t ask me why, because I truly haven’t a clue.
Two guards stood by the banquet hall, and I recognized neither.
“Sir?” Corvus asked, politely. “May we pass into the banquet hall?”
The guard gazed down absentmindedly, then his look froze over and became hard, cold; more guardlike, really. “State your business.”
I carefully, carefully pulled out the scroll, and was very relieved when I didn’t hear the dull clang of a knife falling on carpet. I handed it to the guard and he snatched it from me. He read it, at leisure.
“. . . Ah,” he said, at length. “You’re the ones for the ‘engagement,’ then. It’s in the cellars. Follow me.” He trudged off down a narrow hallway, expecting us to follow no doubt.
I began walking after him, and the others did as well. Margie whispered to me as I walked.
“The cellars? But weren’t we invited for dinner?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped back. “It didn’t say so in the scroll, not really.”
“Well. . . I don’t like it,” she said, nervously. “What if they. . . chop us up into little pieces and feed us to the Diabine?”
“Oh, please, you believe that faerie tale?”
“Of course! I mean, it’s the guardian of Kalth, right? If it thinks we’re a threat, it’ll kill us.”
Diabine was, supposedly, a sort of fire demon that protects Sedagé and the surrounding country. The legends told of a bloodthirsty half-wolf, half-hunter embodied in flame who could move as fast as the wind, and who shot arrows as straight and true as thunderbolts.
“And besides,” I said after a moment of thought, “they wouldn’t need to chop us up into little pieces. The Diabine could tear us up itself.”
Margie shivers. “Oh, shut up! You know what I meant!”
“I know, I know.”
The guard stopped in front of a large oaken door, and unlocked it with a great big iron key. It swung open, and he gestured for us to go inside.
It was dark, and there were stairs that turned gradually down.
“Thank you, sir,” Corvus said promptly, and began to walk down the ominous spiral staircase.
Marguerite and I followed nervously behind him, and as we walked down into the murky cellars--or maybe they were dungeons? We didn’t know--the door slammed behind us, and I heard a decisive click as it was locked.
Corvus said, calmly and dryly, “that bastard locked us down here.”
“What are they going to do to us?” Margie said, almost crying.
Corvus, not really hearing her, repeated, “that BASTARD locked us down here,” then he began to trudge down the stairs.
“I can’t see anything,” I complained as we walked down. “What if I bump into an iron maiden or something?”
“You won’t,” Corvus said, confidently. “and even if you did, you’d probably notice before you walked to far.”
“Oh, well, that’s comforting,” I said icily. “I suppose we have iron maiden sensors?”
“Or something similar, yes. Hush, I think we’re almost there.”
We came to the bottom of the stairwell, where there was a large door. I could hardly see it, but just by touching its surface I could tell it was very old; the wood seemed almost petrified.
Corvus, being the sensible one among us, reached for the iron doorknocker and knocked politely on the ancient wood.
“Excuse me?” he called. “Excuse me, the Blackbirds are here.”
There was a brief and muffled exchange from inside, and the door swung open a creak.
“Merle and Corvus Blackbird, are ye?” said the bedraggled old fellow--probably a butler, I guessed--who opened the door.
“And a friend,” Corvus said primly, “Miss Marguerite Lyons.”
“Aye, then, you may enter.” He opened the door the rest of the way, and the three of us stepped inside.
We all gasped as we saw the interior of the “cellar;” a lavishly furnished bedroom, it seemed, with red velvet and silk all over the place. It was more grandiose then all the rest of the palace; there was a long dining table at its center, and there were three people sitting at the far end.
The first two were easily recognizable as the King and Queen of Kalth. They had mellow blue eyes and straight, slick-looking hair that was, curiously, a patchy combination of red and black.
The one at the head of the table didn’t look familiar. He didn’t look very old, maybe two years older than us. His hair was a shaggy, unkept reddish blonde, and his eyes were a warm, dark brown.
King Mortimer stood up when we came in. “Welcome,” he said in a kingly way, “to Jey Palace.”
We had all been brought up to respect the king and queen, with good reason. Margie and I curtsied, and Corvus bowed.
“Your Majesty, King Mortimer,” Corvus said gravely.
He had become the spokesperson of our little group by then, I suppose. We let him do the talking.
“Sit down, sit down,” he said, doing so himself. We sat at the other end of the table, Corvus at the head. “You’re probably wondering why we’ve invited you here. And. . . who is this?” He gestured towards Marguerite.
“I’m Marguerite Lyons, your highness,” she said primly.
“Ah,” he said, looking slightly worried. “Well, no harm in it I suppose. I see that you are. . . much the same as your two friends.”
Queen Sorsa then spoke for the first time. “As the king has said, you’re probably wondering why we’ve summoned you here.”
“We are, Queen Sorsa,” Corvus replied, “although I have guessed that it may have something to do with our heritage. . .”
Heritage? What was he talking about?
“You would be correct,” the king said worriedly. “It has come to our attention that you are. . . how should I say this delicately. . .”
“We are all vampires, my lord,” he said helpfully.
“Ah, yes, well.” He looked a bit uncertain. “That solves that, I suppose.”
“We do not wish to kill you,” the queen said carefully, “but we would like to make sure that you do not cause problems.”
“How will you do that, your highness?”
“We propose that you have a bodyguard with you at all times,” she said, “so that, if you should do anything uncalled for, he may stop you. For the good of the people,” she added righteously.
“And that must be this chap at the head of the table?” I blurted, unable to stop myself.
“It is,” the king replied. “Introduce yourself, man.”
The brown-eyed boy stood up and smiled a dazzling smile. “My name is Diabine,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”
I could hear the sound of four redwings cackling in the courtyard.
. . . . . entries for 4.8.02 . . . . .
More Redwing! ^.^() Sorry for not posting. I've been gone at CTY for three weeks. Anyway, Redwing is the important thing.
Who loves ya, baby!? ;)
Three
The sky was cloudy, and the sun was only just over the horizon. Corvus set his cloak about Margie’s shoulders.
I trampled through the thistles, and the two of them followed close behind. The redwings had made a point of sitting in my cowl, where it was warm.
The moor was longer that morning. It seemed so expansive that it would take years upon years to cross; patterns of purple, yellow and green crossed its bulk, and pollen ran like a thick, gold dust through the air.
I walked along sulkily. It was just like a fairy tale for them. I would never find anyone who could so much as tolerate the gothic, sarcastic, hawkeyed little girl, and speaking of love for me was so hopeless. . .
When we arrived back at the gates, it was apparent that everyone was still sound asleep. We smuggled ourselves back inside, and carefully tucked ourselves under the covers. The story was simple: We were never at the grove, and we had been asleep all night.
It wasn’t hard to stumble back into a land of dreams. . .
* * *
It was dark.
Or, at least, it was supposed to be dark. I imagined the enveloping darkness, but I saw the light all the same.
“This is the verse,” a voice boomed.
“What verse?” I shouted back.
“You must complete the rhyme,” the voice said patiently, “and afterwards, you will know all there is about you.”
“What verse? What rhyme?”
“He has reached number three. There are two of you. . . Which one can complete the task at hand? When will you begin?”
“Who ARE you?”
The voice fell silent.
“I am someone you’ve never seen, and never spoken to, but your heart knows to whom this voice belongs.”
The sounds and light faded, leaving me in sleep.
* * *
When I awoke, it wasn’t exactly of natural causes.
Margie shook my shoulders. “Merle!! Merle, something’s wrong!”
I opened my left eye. “What is it?. . .”
“My neck! It’s all swollen up!”
“. . . Have you talked to my mum?”
“Merle!”
“Fine.” I sat up, and looked at her through eyes slightly less sleepy than before. I rubbed my eyes. The image didn’t change.
“. . . You’re neck’s not as bad as your eyes,” I said, in as stable a voice I could manage. “They’re yellow.”
“. . . What about my neck?”
I looked at it closer. There was a swollen area on the left side, with two dark holes bored through the flesh. I pulled away.
“Something bit you.”
“. . . What?”
“I don’t know. Something. Something with really sharp front teeth.”
“I’m gonna go ask Corvus if he knows what’s wrong!” Margie flew out of the room, and shut the door quietly behind her.
I waited for a few moments before rising and creeping out after her. I crouched by the door to Corvus’ room, and listened to them.
“. . . I don’t know what’s wrong with it! Do you know, Corvus?”
No one spoke. Time gaps were always one of Corvus’ strong points; it seemed to last an undefinable amount of time.
“Something bit you, of course,” he said finally.
“What?”
Another period of silence.
“. . . Margie, you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone, okay?”
“Tell anyone what? I can’t keep a secret unless I know what it is!!”
“. . . It was me.”
Bewilderment floated in the air, so thick that a blackbird’s wing could slice through it.
“How?” Margie whispered.
“I. . . I’m sorry,” he said uncertainly. “I don’t know why, or how, but. . . I know it was me.”
I fought the urge to swallow. I fought a larger urge to rush in.
“You. . . Bit me? Like a. . . A vampire?”
I heard Corvus’s bedsprings creak as he rocked back and forth.
“Not like a vampire. As a vampire,” he said shortly.
“. . . No.”
“I’m sorry. . .”
“You’re not a vampire!!”
“I am. . .”
“Why would you bite me? Why YOU??”
“I. . . I just. . . I don’t know. Something. . . Something in my head just screamed, and then it was whispering, ‘Bite her, she’ll be yours. . . Forever. . .’”
I remembered an old passage out of one of my favorite fairy tales.
The voice kept talking to Vladimir in his head.
“Bite her. . . She’ll belong to you. I promise.”
She was asleep. . . Delicate, graceful, and beautiful in sleep. . .
He opened his mouth and clamped his jaws around her neck. He felt it immediately. . . The rich, hot taste of her blood. . .
I ran into the room. Corvus’s eyes shot to mine, and Margie’s followed soon after.
“You heard everything?” Margie asked.
“I did, but that’s not important right now. Listen to me.” I cleared my throat. “I had this weird dream this morning, after we went to Phoenix Grove. . .”
I launched into explaining the imaginary darkness, the booming voice and its message, and above all the short explanation he had given.
“. . . You know in your heart who it was? That’s. . . Vague, isn’t it?” Corvus said speculatively.
“Extremely. I’ve no idea. But they said something about the third verse, and that we’ve got to complete the rhyme.”
“What rhyme?” Margie piped.
“That’s just the thing. I’m not sure what the voice was talking about. . .”
Corvus spoke quietly. “I know. I know what rhyme.”
I turned to him. “What is it, then?”
“My rhyme. The redwing blackbird rhyme. Fourteen verses. . . I’ve completed number three.”
I counted up the verses, and began to recite them aloud.
“One for blushing, childish love,
Two for coldest, cringing flame,
Three for fresh, murdered blood-”
“Murder?” Margie asked softly.
“Metaphorically speaking. . . It could be murder, but it’s not, because vampires can’t kill-” Corvus stopped and turned away in midsentence, and bit his lip. The sharp canine drew blood.
“It’s like the fairy tales. If vampires bite, they bite to kill, unless it’s someone,” I smiled slightly. “someone that they care about. Love might be a simpler term. Stronger vampires can bite to make humans into subordinate servants. . . But apparently that’s not what stopped Corvus.”
My brother clutched his shoulder. “Don’t you see? Something’s manipulating us! We’re going to go through the verses, one by one!”
I thought for a moment. “I get it. . . You two, you’re the first verse all by yourself. The cold flame was the phoenix. . . And now. . .”
“The next verse is the palace’s blame,” Corvus said urgently, turning around with a bleeding lip. “The king, or queen, or somebody. . . One of the royal family is going to be involved.”
“Bring it on,” I said harshly. “I never liked them much anyway. Snobby folk, those royal types. . . If all else fails, Mr. Vampy here can bite them, right?”
“You seem to misunderstand,” Corvus said testily. “I didn’t just happen to be a vampire for no good reason. It’s an inherited trait.”
“What d’you mean, it’s an inherited trait?”
“If I’m a vampire, then one of my parents must have been a vampire, unless someone bit me. You’re one too, Merle. We’re all vampires, since I bit Margie. . . She’s even got the hawkeyes. Look!”
It was true, all the same. Margie’s eyes were golden yellow, just like mine and Corvus’.
“We’ll just wait,” she whispered, “for the blame to come.”
Three redwings on the roof cackled, and flew towards the palace.
come home?
.:people:.
{ting}
she looks like the real thing
{mari}
out and about
[kelsey]
THIS IS AMERICA
{yianni}
stop being depressed
{alisa}
other
[shannon]
close and far
{frank}
islands where no islands should go
[cassie]
eating knowledge
{colin}
my dm
[emily]
shoulder to the wheel
[brian]
nostalgic for fantasy
[nicole]
industry insider
{elle}
angry enviro
[matt]
never heard of miyazaki
[pirate dan]
are you reading this?
[olga]
distracted
[messiah dan]
messiah/believer
{max}
approach focus
[natalie]
wait a minute
[susan]
solitude
{greg}
manbeargreg
.:past:.
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.:skin:.
turtles! turtles! by araglas
(heavily modified by yours truly)