August 8, 2014

Fiction: A Disruption

Another fiction post everyone.  Same character as before.

I lay on the chaise in my long formal dress I wore to a few events in the late '20s.  I have no shame in wearing classics again.  I've been certain to keep my clothing classic so that I can look regal for decades rather than mere months.  Also shopping for clothing at night was harder to do when I first started out as a kindred.  It was easier to be practical, short of tricking a designer into your orchestra.

Above me I watch molecules bond to each other in a rhythm, reminding me of the Rites of Spring.  I remember when modern dance was new and I saw a performance, but dance never truly entertained me.   I preferred the symphony.  I've kept the song in symphony, performed by the atoms that pair off. They light up above in a soft light.  I am keen and comfortable.

The bonds lose their defining lines, and the lights begin to stay up, and are bright gold like incandescents.  The chaise is sinking into grass, yellow blades dimmed by nightfall. I look down and the dress... is no longer there.  I am clothed into something I can only describe to civilized individuals as a hand-sewn sack.   In the old standards this was beauty.  In the current standard it feels like a costume.  I'm itchy.

I sit up.  In front of me is a fire subsisting on nothing, lighting up the field as if it's mid afternoon.  I back away before standing up.  This is rare.  This small remembrance comes twice a decade, not in a true pattern.  I am no longer startled by it.  I merely hate that I must waste my time with it.

In the corner of my eyes I sense the shadows that sometimes linger.  I never truly catch them in my sight in front of me, so I do not try to catch them.  They're short, slight dark figures that just stand and stare back at me.  As I walk to the fire they follow me, still in the edges of my sight.  If they're not going to leave, I'll keep them at that difference.

Just by walking to the fire, it shrinks rapidly, until it is the size of a dime when I'm only a couple feet away from it.  I grin.

"Merely an exothermic process."

"Precisely," I hear Abel confirm.  He doesn't show, he is only heard.  "One that is hard to control, unfortunately, and can damage, but nothing unknown."

There is a part of me that wishes to touch it.  I don't wish to be used to that fantasy.  It won't be useful after my time in eclipse.

Suddenly the sky crashes around, pushing me on my back again.  I find myself in the long black dress I began my eclipse in, the irises and roses surrounding me.  the room is dimly lit.  I realize I can blink at will and the image stays the same.

Leaning over me is Lady Quinn, the dips and raises on the side of her face highlighted by the lighting.  She is dressed in a suit, but her hair is not pulled back.  I lick my lips and raise my brow.

"I apologize, Lady Quinn.  It is necessary."

I pull my shoulders back into the silk covered pillows I rest on.  "Understood.  Is it time?"

"This is... early, but brief."

"It is acceptable.  We are up to date on events?"

"There is a report on changes that will be pertinent for this brief summit."

"That is understood."  I pause.  "We still serve at the pleasure of the Prince?"

She cocks her head to the side.  "Of course."

In relief I close my eyes.  "Then this will pass quickly."

July 21, 2014

Fiction: As Lady Quinn Rests...

Yes it has been quite some time since I paid attention to this blog.  I'm trying to get back to my old writing habits, so while I try that please try to enjoy this fictional piece that is of on of my LARP characters.  P.S. if you're still reading after 8 months of no updates, thank you, I really appreciate it.

"Well please, Miss Moreaux, please show us the savage dance that will bring your land the rain!"

A scene I have repeated multiple times.  Partially for my amusement, partially to make it right.  I smirk to Lady Tatar, in her blue dress and dripping jewels.  Abel told me she only recently became a lady, and many believe she didn't deserve it.

This time around, I don't just stand there politely.  Survival in this space is no longer an issue.  I have survived.  This time, I respond with a smirk and I approach her slowly, my low heels clicking and my stride steady.  I put a hand on her hip and take her free arm up, and as her amazement manifests on her face I waltz with her in front of everyone at the gathering that night.  Suddenly I hear a Strauss movement swell around us, and all of the people around us laugh in amazement.

This time the victory dance only lasts a moment before I become a fluid body floating down to the small lab I shared with Abel over a century ago, when we settled in the city.  Before the fire.

He grins at me.  "You have too much fun with this Lady S--"

Even in this deep rest I bring up a finger and raise my brow.  "Excuse me, Baron Abel."

He nods as I land to the floor.  "You are excused, Lady Quinn.  Though I should apologize.  I am glad you have found a way."

I try not to remind myself that I merely imagined that.  The walls turn into enlarged, flat representations of some of my favorite compounds--lithium aluminium hydride, psilocybin, clove oil--which glow and give some needed light to the scene.  I see Abel as I last saw him, in his jacket, slacks and boots before he ran into our haven and I could not run after him.  I'm currently in the long dress and understated gold jewelry that I entered my rest in.

I look to the table to see words intermingle in the flasks and the tubes, bubbling in the beaked patiently waiting me to write down a result.  But it's not time for me to, so I ignore it.  "I am glad as well.  Our work has helped me greatly."

"I'm glad I picked you well.  Kindred don't like to admit that lineage is important sometimes, but I found it vital.  If I hadn't picked you..."

"Abel, I'm not certain if you are my ego or not."

"Can I be?"

"I don't know, I'd ask Freud."

Suddenly a little rustling as the compounds shift slightly and change color--a light purple.  It causes Abel to look ghostly.  I feel a grin grow not only in my dream, but just softly as I rest.

"What could it be, Lady Quinn?"

"They've changed the flora around me.  I'm assuming lilacs.  That's a rarity."

I let Abel fade, and I float back onto a chaise in a silk sheath dress, my hair down.  I lift my feet up and wait to see if it is Lord or Lady Quinn who will be reading me new poetry this evening.  I feel lucky that I occasionally can even hear it.

Though part of me wishes they'd ghoul someone who was a francophone native.  However, I'm not in a position to complain, so I lie.  And I wait.  And I enjoy.