Silver Falling: A writing Blog

Original: Truths Unseen, 3rd time's not the charm (2/2)

2009-01-07T06:09:48Z

Continued from my last entry...

Truths Unseen v3
Part 2/2

On the outside, the house looked as normal as its neighbor, other than the fact that no one lived in it. It wasn't abandoned, as the cliché went. Its owner had simply gone abroad with intentions to return for vacation soon.

The years passed, and the layers of dust thickened, and soon never quite came. So the house stood against rain and sun, and as the neighborhood children grew older, the stories they had made up for fun soon morphed into truth.

The fact was, according to the maid across the way, the house was haunted. The maid herself was from a far-flung province, making her accent heavy but her Sight clear. Fire, she'd said, eerie balls of fire flickered through the house some nights, staining the walls with strange colors. If she peeped just far enough when it was day, she could make out a scramble of drawings through the parted curtains – curtains that were supposed to be closed.

"Curses, all over everything. They corrupt house and any person who go in." The maid explained as she wrung out a pair of jeans she'd been rubbing against a jutted wood slab. "That is why no one goes in to make rob. All those old things – no one stealed them for years. For sure, that house is haunted! Do not go near it or it will stain you too."

Other than the rays of dying sunlight filtering through the windows and flooding the house with orange, Kite didn't see anything else stain-worthy. The walls on the first floor weren't a pristine white, but they were bare of any evil drawings, save for a few paintings of fruit spreads that looked like brains. She wondered who would buy such terrible art, unless the owner himself was an aspiring painter in the way her brother was an aspiring know-it-all. It just didn’t work.

Drop cloths, grayed with dust and time, covered all the furniture. She made a careful walk through, pulling off the cloths one by one, causing hardly any dust to rise up. The maid was right about one thing: they were antiques, although Kite didn't think they were the kind worth stealing. The bamboo bench looked particularly uncomfortable to sit on.

After replacing all the cloths, Kite ventured to the kitchen where ant trails had sprung up. There was the sound of scurrying small bodies and a flash of tail through a gnawed hole. Kite rolled her eyes, holding back a laugh in case she accidentally inhaled any rat germs. This was just another house, as she'd thought, given a bad rep only by years of being alone. That, she could relate to.

A creak reverberated through the ceiling above her. Alert at once, Kite found the stairs and quickly ascended, despite the dimness of sunset and the aging wood. The advantage of creeping through dozens of houses like this one was that she’d learned to move without making a sound.

At the top of the stairs was a short hall. A mirror hung lengthwise on one side, just above a mantle that showcased two smooth bamboo weapons. She grabbed one and turned to the first door on her left. One breath, her hand was on the doorknob, the next, she shoved the door open to an empty room. She moved down two steps and repeated the process on the next door. Another bust. At the end of the hall were two doors. She opened the left first and upon finding nothing, she faced the right.

Raising the stick more awkwardly than she liked, Kite steeled herself. If someone was in the house, they would be in that room. She put her hand on the knob and twisted.

It opened into darkness, all remnants of the sun completely gone. Everything was still. Her eyes adjusted slightly, and she could see shadows of dressers, the bed, the chair, the lamp that came towards her so rapidly that she didn't register it had moved.

Kite froze for a moment, wanting to scream, even silently, but she could not let herself, not when it wasn't real, this looming thing that stood right in front of her, imposing and impossible, reaching out with a luminescent point of color that looked yellow one moment and blue the next, mesmerizing...

Pulling herself back in motion, Kite knocked the point of color away. There was an audible smack of skin on skin, and Kite thrilled in the fact that it had been impossible, that this was a person, and nothing else. He tried to leave, but Kite grabbed his slim wrist and swung him back into the room where he thunked on the floor with a very female, "Ouch."

Kite pointed her stick at the girl and reached for her flashlight. "Who are you?"

Just as she switched on the penlight, the girl knocked the stick out of Kite's hand with a painful kick. Kite dropped the light to grasp her stinging right hand, automatically thinking about how she would explain this to her mother, but she had no time to worry about that as the girl firmly hit the back of Kite's knees and caused Kite to fall backwards onto the bed.

Before she knew it, Kite was pinned there by the very stick she had used. The girl held the pinpoint of color above Kite's head.

"Don't mess with hoodlums if you're not one yourself, poser." The girl said. She had a lilting voice that would have otherwise been pleasant in another situation. "You oughta be taught a lesson for being out past your bedtime." The pinpoint of color wavered. Kite couldn't be sure if it was pointed or not.

"Listen," Kite blurted. "I thought you were someone else. I didn't mean to-"

"Startle a criminal? Too late, baby. You want my name? Why don't I trace it on your forehead?" She drove the pinpoint of color down. Kite watched it come, afraid, yes, but never afraid enough to look away. If she closed her eyes, how could she ever see the chance to stop it?

But there was none, only a clenching somewhere in her, followed by a soft cracking sound. Kite was never the type to freeze but she was immobile now, her fear an empty vacuum that turned in on itself, made her see things.

The stillness crystallized, bloomed outwards, petals of blue swirling gently over her. The blue blanket reacted: it pulled inward towards the spot where the point was headed and scattered, blowing the point away with it. The girl toppled over, sprawled halfway in the dark and halfway in the weak glare of the penlight. She wore scrappy capris with equally grungy sneakers that may have been enviably expensive at one point. A henna tattoo creeped up the girl’s bare ankle and under her capris. A similar tattoo twined around the girl’s wrist and ended in shadow.

Kite barely registered all this as she picked up the penlight and shone it into the girl’s face. The girl did not move to cover it, would only squint into the light, batting her heavily lined eyelashes as she did so. Kite couldn’t tell what she looked like underneath all the make-up, but with it, the girl was striking. Smokey eyes, whirling tattoos down her temples, flawless skin that suggested foundation, brown lipstick just surpassing the actual edge of her lips. The girl would have easily passed as sultry if she didn't look so punk.

Her pupils were pinpoints in the light. "Who are you?" Her tone was different now, hard still but treading on soft, the way one would walk lightly on quicksand.

"That was my question." Kite didn't know why she was being evasive. Actually, she did. Anyone would be wary when attacked by a--

Kite walked over to the other side of the bed where the point had fallen and picked it up.

It was a piece of white chalk.

She turned it over in her left hand while she beamed the light over it with her right. The piece of chalk looked ordinary enough, apart from being unnaturally durable. It shouldn't have survived such a fall in one piece. Kite couldn't understand how this crumbling thing, the powder coming off in her hands at that very moment, could have emitted such an ominous light. The bare floor indicated that this was the only weapon the girl could have used.

Kite drew an uneven line on the wall for good measure, ascertaining it was real. The line came out crisply, looking like liquid paper on the wall but not as drippy. Its luminescence caught onto other lines on the painted wall, flaring from one to the next until the whole room shone.

"What's this, glow-in-the-dark chalk?" Kite said aloud, sweeping the light across the room, revealing pale chalk outlines underneath the glowing colors. They scrawled unattractively on the wall wherever the light hit, but in the dark they were as bright and crisp as paint in daylight.

There was a misshapen circle for that seductive monster with the long, tube-like tongue and hideously short body. A vertical line stood against it, appearing as a human figure with his back turned. An isosceles triangle towered over the scene and into it flowed an ancient script that took the expanse of the room to contain. In dimness, it turned into a tall baliti tree with falling leaves.

There was a dream-like familiarity to the scene that disturbed Kite. The lines started to cease up around her, forming other images of monsters and that same lone figure standing up in front of Kite, always with his back to her.

"What's going on?" Kite choked out, choked because she could barely speak, so constricted were the lines becoming. She coughed.

"You weren't supposed to see that." The girl stood up, dusted herself off irritably. "It was a trap for something else. Now I'll have to redraw it."

The lines closed in further, spinning in her face, so close she could see half of the man's face as he turned to touch a creature while the creature cringed away in pain. His chin set in a way that Kite set hers. The monster changed and the figure stooped with exhaustion. He raised his hand, palm backwards, telling whoever was behind him to stay back but Kite didn't, she came forward because the monster with the tube-like tongue, that now horrific aswang, had caught him in its talons. It extended its tongue down the figure's throat, sucking out the disease, sucking out life until the figure became as stiff and straight as a banana trunk.

Typically, Kite was not one to shout but in her struggle to breathe, it was the only thing she could do. Her husky voice pierced the air, took her out of her stupor enough to allow her to raise the penlight and dispel the lines.

"No!" The girl started forward, non-marking shoes slapping as she dashed over to Kite. "Don't, you'll free the other one-"

Too late. The aswang shrieked into life, flapping furiously around the room. Kite could not believe her eyes, would not, but she jumped to avoid the long sliver of its long tongue that swept near her. Unlike the womanly demon portrayed in the movies, this aswang did not have entrails hanging where its lower half should've been. It had a complete body, though its legs were not proportional to its upper half. They were smaller and shorter, practically useless for walking if the aswang were to land. Most of its legs were hidden in the aswang's long blouse, its tattered red hem giving the illusion of the associated superstitious gore.

The girl cursed. "Give me back my chalk."

Kite handed it over without hesitation. The chalk hardened as soon as it touched the girl's palm. By the time she began drawing, it had re-grown to its original size showing no sign it had been used by Kite. Its tip gave off light, allowing the girl to see what she was drawing though Kite didn't think those pathetic scrawls would do much, not given how much there had been originally.

The aswang darted about the low ceiling, so close that its bat-like wings beat against it. Its chest heaved with effort to keep in flight in such an enclosed space, reflective eyes surveying the two girls on the floor. Kite saw its very human eyebrows lift in recognition of the girl, then lower again in anger. Apparently it knew who had imprisoned it.

The creature swooped down for the other girl, sharp fingers outstretched. The girl saw it coming but continued to draw frantically, etching symbols onto the floor that suggested restraints. They rippled upward, but not enough to do anything but provide a pretty lightshow.

Suddenly everything made sense. That's all this was, an elaborate lightshow and a rabid flying animal. Not a scene from a horror flick, or anything that so shattered her disbelief in the supernatural. Just as suddenly, Kite could move again.

Diving for the bamboo stick, Kite kicked herself back up and swung around just in time to make contact with the animal. It flew backwards, shrieking the whole way. The shrillness hurt her ears, but Kite kept after it, leaping onto the bed and swinging the stick down like a fly swatter but with the sting of softball bat. The animal had to be kept out of the air, so Kite continually swatted it down every time it tried to rise up until all it could do was crawl with its arms, its pitiful legs providing little support.

Meanwhile the lightshow the girl was creating grew brighter. It stretched up off the floor, a shower of shifting, broken lines that resembled one of those fireworks they often set off during the New Year, except without the smoke and noise. It arced as a cage would, leaping for the animal, becoming so intense that Kite had to shield her eyes to avoid being blinded.

It was a long time before she could see anything again. She blinked in the darkness, trying to hasten the adjustment in her vision.

"It got away." The girl said from somewhere beside Kite. The girl sighed. "This is gonna be hell to explain."

Kite sat down on the bed, physically exhausted though her mind was awake. “Then explain it to me first.”

The girl eyed her, said with certainty, “You won’t believe me.”

“I won’t,” Kite acknowledged. “But you can try anyway.”

The girl spun her piece of chalk around her thumb, caught it on the same hand, repeated the action. “All right.” she said after a moment. “You’re going to help me catch them, so you’ll need to know.”

“The animals?”

“Not animals. You know what that was.” The girl said matter-of-factly. She spun the chalk, then bent over to doodle a shape on the floor. It was half a woman, with a long tongue and sharp fingers, eerily familiar. “Even normal people can see it’s an aswang when it’s that close.”

“Normal people never see things that don’t exist.” Kite said. “That thing was a giant bat.”

The girl looked up. The doodle on the floor wiggled, but that was impossible. Trick of light. “You’re not normal, and that wasn’t a bat.”

Kite stood up. “If you’re not going to be straight with me, then never mind. I don’t care what it was. I’m sorry I messed up your trap but I did what I could. I’m going.”

“Not so fast.” The girl was in front of Kite before Kite knew it. She pressed something hard into Kite’s hand. Kite glanced at it. It was a flat disc made of some impossibly hard wood. Her fingers glided over its smooth surface as she turned it over. It was shaped as a certain leaf, but Kite couldn’t remember what kind off the top of her head.

The girl wouldn’t take it back when Kite tried to return it. “That’s yours so you can find me again. You’ll need a lizard.”

“Lizard? What?”

“You let that aswang get away so now you’re going to help me get it back.” The girl’s glare prevented Kite from insisting that aswangs were fictional. This girl was insane.

“Okay…” Kite said doubtfully.

“Remember, you need a lizard. And my name: Rosette. I’m with Bata Bayani.” Rosette slapped Kite’s forearm in greeting. Kite couldn’t help but jump. She was familiar with the Bata Bayani gang from concerned parents and newspaper reports about burglary and vandalism incidents. There were even murder charges. This girl was worse than crazy – she was dangerous.

Kite had no choice but to give her name in return when Rosette pressed her. “Kite. No, Kate.” Kite corrected herself. This girl would want her real name, wouldn’t she?

Except Rosette’s reaction was weird. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and she actually stepped away from Kite. “The Kite?” she murmured to herself. Kite wondered how she could possibly know about her, but Rosette recovered a moment later. “Doesn’t matter, you’re still helping, it’ll just be harder. Meet me when I tell you. If you don’t, I’ll come get you.” Kite didn’t like the edge on the last sentence. “Don’t lose that either.” The girl pointed at the disc. “Coz I’ll be pissed if you do.”

Tempting as it was to purposely irritate this bossy girl, Kite nodded her head. She knew better than to mess with the Bata Bayani.

“And,” Rosette winked at Kite. “This is our secret. Aight?”

Secret? So it wasn’t the Bata Bayani she had to worry about.

With a final wave, Rosette left Kite alone. When the pounding of Rosette’s feet finally stopped, Kite gathered her scattered things. She paused with the bamboo stick, shrugged, and put it into her backpack as well. It wasn’t like the owner was using it.

She headed downstairs and climbed out the window she had snuck in through. Yup. The sky was filled with bright stars. Kite grimaced. She was late, as predicted.

--------

“I can’t believe we’re lost.” Tomas said for the tenth time.

“He’s tricky.” Sala commented. She dragged her feet while they walked and soon enough stopped completely. “I’m getting tired. It’s pointless to keep walking if we’re going round and round like a merry-go-round.” She laughed at the rhyme. Tomas rolled his eyes, then persisted with his previous argument.

“If you’d just take off your clothes like I said we should-“

“I am not taking off my clothes.” Sala said firmly. “Not outside, and not in front of you.”

“I won’t look.” Tomas said, slightly offended. “It’s the only way to break the spell. We need to turn our clothes inside out and wear them like that.”

“Aren’t you forgetting how you need to strike your bolo into the ground?” Sala asked skeptically. “Good luck driving it through the cement.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“You mean, you can do it?” Sala perked at this new tidbit. They really did need to sync up about their abilities. “Do it! Do it!”

Tomas shook his head. “We have to do the clothes first.”

Sala’s enthusiasm died as quickly as it flashed. “No way.”

“Sala, if you can see these demons are real, then the other superstitions are probably true too.”

She crossed her arms and faced him squarely. “You’re leaving something out.”

Ah. Tomas kept a straight face nevertheless. “What?”

“We don’t have everything we need to break the spell. Only sunrise will do that. It can’t be done at night during his peak time.”

His peak time. Tomas exhaled loudly and paced. Sala was right of course, but it irked him beyond measure to think Daro was getting away and they could do nothing about it.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sala was watching him pace. She’d crouched down to rest, one knee to the ground even though it was dirtying her canvas skirt. “He’s not getting away. We know where he goes to school, we know how to find him again.”

Tomas practically growled. “But we need to take him down now.”

“We don’t even know if it’s really him.”

“He got us lost, didn’t he?”

“That’s because he was defending himself. This is why I didn’t want to confront him so soon…” Sala cocked her head distractedly. Tomas looked around in response. When she spoke again, her voice was lowered to a whisper, projected directly to him so only he could hear, despite him being several paces away from her. “Do you hear someone coming?”

Tomas didn’t, but he scanned the street anyway. Had someone else been tricked into Daro’s curse? Tomas clenched his hand around the handle of his bolo. Had Daro come back?

They waited, Sala still crouched but ready to spring at a moment’s notice, Tomas ready to unsheathe his bolo. Soon, the footsteps became audible. It was an erratic rhythm, sometimes quick and purposeful, sometimes pausing and hesitating. Human. In which case, they couldn’t be seen. Without Tomas having to say anything, Sala pulled shadows over them once more, just as a student appeared around the corner.

Tomas recognized her immediately. It was the same girl they caught Daro trailing after. Gone was the fierce confidence, though, replaced with thoughtfulness. Her earrings glowed as she passed under a lamppost, reminding him of firefly light.

At that moment, the girl halted. Her shadow stretched at a harsh angle in front of her, lifting its head as she raised hers to listen. Her eyes flickered around, alert now, showing no signs of her previous absent mindedness.

Sala’s blanket was normally impenetrable, but Tomas knew she was tired and therefore not as focused. It was all about focus, for the both of them. So they stood very still and concentrated on not being found.

The student brushed away a stray strand from her forehead and peered near the spot they were stopped at, but not quite. Her mouth puckered, her eyes narrowed, and Tomas and Sala held their breaths. Even Tomas was impressed by the intensity on the girl’s round face. He could tell she was all there. So many students were not, their minds always partly on something else, whether it was a crush, or school, or anything equally as trivial. This girl looked like she knew there was more to life, like he did. He wondered what she might say if they ever met.

That was unlikely. She started off again, the angle of her path veering away from them. Tomas relaxed. That was one less complication, at least.

Sala elbowed him. When she’d stood up, he didn’t know. She had always been stealthy like that, from the first moment they met at school. One moment, he had been walking alone, and the next, she was just ahead of him, suggesting he check his pocket where she had placed a message for him. He hadn’t noticed that back then either, but now he understood her nature better, just as she did his.

“Maybe we can follow her out.” Sala was already edging forward.

Tomas nodded his assent. As long as the student did not make contact with them, then she was safely unaffected by Daro’s curse. How she even managed to walk through it was a mystery though, but all Tomas cared about right now was to get out.

The girl began to pass them, eyes unseeing. Sala and Tomas stepped in unison after her.

That was as far as they got. The girl whipped around, her ponytail flicking behind her as she brought out an arnis stick, which had been innocently stuck in her backpack.

“I know you’re there.” The girl’s voice was certain. Tomas thought it suited her very well, even though the arnis stick did not. She didn’t look like the type of girl who got into fights. She was not solid enough to withstand a good push. Nevertheless, they froze. It was possible the student had some 6th sense. Weak, but enough to give her certainty. Most people had it, they just failed to listen to it.

“I’m not in the mood for pranks tonight, so get it over with.” The girl glared impatiently. After another moment, she advanced. There was no mistake in her direction. She was coming straight at them.

Sala made an effort to pull more shadows, but instead of the blanket growing thicker, it started to thin, the layers peeling off one by one.

“What’s going on?” Tomas murmured. The student tilted her head slightly, as if trying to catch what he said.

“I don’t know. They’re slipping away!” The frustration was evident in her voice. Sala physically reached out to add strength to her grip. The shadows bulged between her fingers at first, like wads of dark lace, but even those began to unravel, bit by bit, until the blanket became a fragile veil.

Tomas’ hand was back on his bolo. This girl was obviously responsible for this. Who knew what she was capable of?

“Tomas, don’t.” Sala managed to gasp out. The effort she was making wasn’t the same as it was against Daro’s, but she was spent from that encounter already, he could see.

“Is she safe?” was Tomas’ only question.

The doubt on Sala’s face was all the confirmation he needed. Tomas had his bolo out a second later, just as the veil vanished into air.

In full view, Tomas pointed his weapon at the girl. “Put that down and back off. Now.” Tomas pointed at the girl’s arnis stick.

The girl stood there and stared incredulously. A welcome breeze fiddled with her ponytail causing something in it to glint, like her earrings earlier. How much jewelry did these spoiled Calinaoan students have to wear?

“Since when did you start using bolos? It can’t be real.” The girl raised her arnis stick higher. Her awkward grip on the traditional weapon told Tomas she didn’t know how to use it. “Who put you up to this prank?”

Patiently – as patient as he got, anyway – Tomas repeated, “I said put that down, or I’ll need to help you.”

The student paused, deliberating. “Who’s got the more dangerous weapon?”

Tomas didn’t blink. “I do.”

“Then you put yours down first.”

“That makes no sense.”

“How else can I trust you?”

“This has nothing to do with trust.” Tomas thrust the bolo closer, almost touching it to her arnis stick. “My weapon will win. That’s why you should put yours down first.”

“What he means,” Sala said, catching the student’s attention for the first time. Sala spoke in a smooth tone Tomas recognized. She used it often enough on him when she was trying to influence him. Unfortunately, Tomas was far too strong willed to ever fall too deeply for Sala’s talent.

Sala stepped closer as she spoke, making the girl aware she was outnumbered. The student stiffened but showed no other signs of standing down.

“What he means is that there’s no need for weapons.” Sala was saying. “We don’t need to hurt each other, Kate.”

The girl looked like she was actually falling for it. The hard look in her eyes blurred, the focus replaced with uncertainty. She dropped her weapon fractionally.

Strangely irritated, Tomas knocked the arnis stick out of her hand and kicked it aside, well out of reach. Instantly, the student was alert again, eyes ablaze as they had been the first time he had seen her, talking down to Daro.

“That wasn’t so hard.” Tomas said nonchalantly before she could say anything. He sheathed his bolo.

“You didn’t have to be so rough.” Sala hissed at him.

“She was being slow.” Tomas replied without regret.

“She is right here.” The girl growled.

Sala quickly turned, using her soothing tone. “Kate, we’re sorry for-“

“How do you know my name?” the girl demanded. “Are you the ones spying on me?”

“Isn’t it obvious that it’s Daro?” Tomas replied. Saying the name made him angry all over again. He distastefully spit behind him.

Doubtfully, the student asked, “Daro sent you?”

Sala was between them with a hand on each of their shoulders before either of them noticed. Tomas instantly felt calmer. “Let’s set things straight. Daro did not send us. He did play a trick on us, so now we’re totally lost. And,” Sala pointed at the nametag on the girl’s shirt. “That’s how I know your name.”

Sala said nothing more. Tomas reluctantly waited for the girl’s reaction. Sala had been fairly truthful, only leaving out that they were hunting a supernatural kidnapper, and that their suspect might be her schoolmate.

The girl appraised them, then shrugged. “Figures. Why else would you get my name wrong?” She turned away to pick up her arnis stick. Once it was safely back in her backpack, she added, “You should’ve just said you were lost. I can show you where to go. I know this place.”

Tomas and Sala exchanged looks. Now that she’d seen them, she would be just as lost as they were.

“Things might look different in the dark.” Sala put forward, choosing her words carefully. “Don’t be surprised if you get turned around like us.”

The girl gave Sala a weird look. “What are you talking about? I said I knew this place.”

Sala quieted. “I’m just throwing that out there…”

“City kids.” Tomas heard the girl mutter. She stalked off and they followed, unwilling to let her get further lost without them. Tomas felt responsible for yet another charge. At least Sala was useful. This girl – Kate? – was not.

“What’s your name if it isn’t Kate?” Tomas asked. The situation was awkward. He could see the girl hesitating in choosing her direction, but stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that she was lost. Such a kid.

“Kite.” Remembering what Sala had said earlier, Kite tore off her name tag and pocketed it. Seemingly picking a direction at random, she walked on, squinting the whole while.

“Are you okay?” Sala asked with genuine concern.

“Fine. Things just look a little funny, that’s all.”

“Funny like how?”

“It’s… blurry. But when I look at something directly, it’s not.”

“You don’t need to make excuses.” Tomas said seriously. “Just admit you’re lost.”

Kite glared at him, then pointed ahead. “That’s the main road, isn’t it?”

Sure enough, several blocks down and barely visible, was the main road he and Sala had started off on. Tomas didn’t understand. They should have all been lost until daybreak. How could she see through Daro’s trick so easily? Through Sala’s?

Sala hid her shock better than he did. While he remained motionless in disbelief, Sala was taking Kite’s hand in hers and thanking her profusely. Kite politely allowed this move, though Tomas saw her twitch her hand several times in an attempt to extricate herself. No such luck. Sala had a firm hold and was using it to her advantage.

“I’ve gotta say we’re really glad you came along and helped us out. We could’ve been lost for days.”

“No problem.” Kite replied vaguely. Her eye brows furrowed again, and her steps slowed. Sala’s hand glowed around Kite’s. Tomas corrected himself. Glow was the wrong word. Sala’s skin lightened imperceptibly, the same occurring to Kite’s fingers, then hand, than arm. The hue spread upward, circling around Kite’s neck and trickling into her mouth, her nostrils, her ears, her eyes, until her entire face was softly shining.

Sala continued in her friendly tone, her braces sparkling as she smiled. “I hope you’ll forgive our little quarrel earlier. Tomas can be rude, but if you’d pretend it never happened, I’m sure we could still be friends.”

A film covered Kite’s eyes while Kite worked to move her pale lips. She swallowed, unable to speak while her thoughts were in contradiction to Sala’s words.

“Just forget about it.” Sala encouraged.

Kite blinked, but the film wouldn’t disappear. Tomas was beginning to wonder if she was immune to even Sala’s strongest talent when her voice rang out at last: “I won’t mention it.”

It wasn’t quite the response Sala had wanted, but it was enough to cause the film to evaporate, dust motes into air.

----
Not the End.

To be continued. Forever!

Original: Truths Unseen, 3rd time's not the charm (1/2)

2009-01-01T07:55:58Z

3rd time's NOT the charm! Did NaNoWriMo again this year, this time with more pressure because I made a pact with RL friends that we'd share our work with each other after. It's one thing to share with online friends who've seen my stuff before - I don't mind that as much, because we all write on the Internet. We know what to expect from each other. But with people you've never shown stuff to in real life? That's a little more nerve wracking.

In any case, we agreed, and so here it is, 3rd time around on NaNoWriMo (yes, yes, I know that's against the rules, but I'd rather not waste the rare effort I make in writing). This isn't the official NaNoWriMo version that I submitted - I plugged in the parts I wrote from last year to fill in the gaps for the rest of you.

Original: Truths Unseen. Young Adult. Philippine mythology. 11.7k+ words.

Working Title: Truths Unseen

Sala wasn’t sure if they could handle the target but they pressed forward with the plan anyway. It was better than letting Tomas go off on his own. Who knew what trouble he’d rile up? Last night was more than enough evidence that he liked to fight before he asked.

Even now, just sitting beside him, their legs awkwardly touching in the cramped war-vehicle-turned-public-transport, Sala could sense how tense he was. His dark eyes were constantly scanning the scenery outside the jeepney’s windows, while he simultaneously jiggled one leg, making the coins in his pocket to clink every so often.

Suddenly, he called out “Para!” to the driver, who instantly responded to that magic word. The public transportation vehicle came to an abrupt halt, causing everyone to slide into each other. Tomas extricated himself from the row of bodies and was off in a flash. Sala was less agile. In fact, she was still on the jeepney when it started to creep forward in anticipation. Just as she stepped off, it roared away in search of more passengers to replace them. It wouldn’t be hard. A couple of people happened to be a short distance away, flagging down any vehicle willing to take them on first. The competition was on.

Tomas steadied Sala in the aftermath. As soon as she was stable, he released her and started to head towards a side street.

“Traffic is just as insane in the suburbs as it is in the city.” Sala complained as she followed.

“It’s rush hour. Everyone’s going home.” Tomas replied matter-of-factly.

Sala looked around, slightly disoriented. She wasn’t all too familiar with this town yet, having spent most of her time in the city where she went to college. Each side street looked like the next – flanked by stores at each corner and barely wide enough to fit two cars side-by-side, sometimes less.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Sala asked.

“Yes.”

When he didn’t add anything, Sala prodded, “…and where is that?”

“You said he went to Ignacio Calinao school. That’s near Halaan compound.” He pointed ahead and to the left where a series of houses were built within a small radius. “Should be over there.”

Sala had to admit she was impressed. “You know a lot for a city kid like me.”

“I’ve just been hunting here longer.”

“You’re hunting.” Sala corrected. “I’m not. I’m investigating.”

“Whatever.”

Sala made a face at his rigid back, but didn’t respond otherwise. Working with Tomas was going to be difficult, but she’d dealt with worse in the past. Besides, Sala could tell that he was having just as hard a time as she was with their hastily arranged partnership. He was a soloist; it was natural. He’d improved in temperament since she first met him, at least. Tomas was purposeful now, to the point it might begin to interfere with his judgment.

Speaking of which, “Don’t forget what we talked about: if we see him, we’re not going to approach him. We have to catch him alone.”

“I know.” Tomas’ attention was focused ahead as he impatiently tried to get a first glimpse of the campus. They side stepped a street vendor who was just dumping a fresh batch of fish balls into a pan. The oil sizzled and popped while the smell of food wafted in the air, reminding Sala she hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

“I’m just saying-“

“I said I know. I won’t forget.” Already, Tomas’ tone was rising in irritation.

Sala put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s your temper that I’m reminding.”

Tomas was tense under her fingers – she surmised he didn’t like being touched but her gift worked with touch, and anyway, he had to stop being such a tightass – but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he half-turned, a guilty expression on his face, probably in response to a memory from the night before.

“Is your shoulder all right now?” he asked matter-of-factly, as if he were expected to ask when he’d much rather not mention it at all. In a sharper tone, he added, “The way you’re moving, it looks like it is.”

Sala considered giving him a hard time about it, maybe wincing for good effect, but she could tell he didn’t appreciate such jokes.

“It’s all right.” she replied. Lucky for you, she added mentally. There was some soreness when she moved her shoulder, but otherwise it was only a bruise. Even that was quickly fading with the herbs her group had given her before she set off.

Strangely, acting fine had the opposite effect on Tomas. Instead of being reassured, he said with a touch of defensiveness, “I just didn’t know that damn dwende was so fast. Who’d expect anyone to be around at that time of night, especially out in the fields like that? If you had been a normal person, I would have seen you before you even stepped within range.”

“That’s not the point. That dwende was playing on your impatience. If you’re not careful, they’ll all find out who you are.”

“Let them.” Tomas said recklessly.

“They’ll use it to their advantage like that dwende did last night.”

Tomas clenched his jaw. After a moment, he spoke, his anger subsiding a little. “I haven’t been here long enough for them to figure it out yet. It won’t be a problem.”

Sala nearly ran into him when he pulled to a short stop. She was glad his weapon was on the other side of his body, even though it was still sheathed. It wouldn’t have been fun to bump into it, sheathed or not.

Tomas held up a hand, palm curving downwards. Sala understood the signal. In two breaths, she pulled a cover of shadows and silence over them.

Tomas pointed ahead, the school campus just coming into view. It lived up to its reputation, with its modern-looking smooth buildings, tiled catwalk, and beautifully unnatural landscaping. It was totally unlike the blocky buildings they had at college. Those were old with history. That was the kind of campus she’d expected to find their target in, not this type. There was no way any creature of the night would be inclined to stay in such an artificial environment, and yet here they were, going against years of common sense. Times certainly were changing.

There were a few students coming out from a late night at school. Sala and Tomas began to approach cautiously, but Tomas stopped again, turning his face to the right in a searching manner. “Did you feel that?”

Sala did. It wasn’t common in carefully sanitized areas like this one. It was a sudden heat, a heightened sense of awareness, the kind that made her look over her shoulder and catch someone watching her, except no one was watching. If she wasn’t attuned to it, she would have even missed it. The spark would burst into flame for a minute at most, then it would splutter away. She often felt it before she met one of them, but which one of them was always a question.

“Do you see who it is?” she asked, eying the students, who were drawing closer.

“Not yet.” Tomas emphasized the ‘yet’.

Without warning, Tomas took off, veering away from the school. The web of shadows stretched between them, almost slipping off. Sala started running after him just in time, her steps muffled, her heavy breaths muted. She worked doubly hard to get her legs moving faster, but her speed was pathetic. She could barely keep up.

“Wait!” she cried, the web muffling her voice. Tomas, also contained within the web, was the only one who could hear her. He was obviously not used to slowing down for a partner.

“Hurry up or it’ll be gone.” Tomas replied impatiently, not bothering to look back. He moved with little difficulty, arms and legs both pumping like pistons while he ducked his head to speed up.

“Do I look like the kind of girl that does a lot of running?” Sala retorted, glaring at his back. If she’d known they’d be chasing down suspects this early, she would’ve worn sneakers. At least her canvass shoes were holding up to the job. Compared to the strappy sandals her classmates liked to wear that summer, Sala could move quicker, but it still wasn’t quick enough.

Tomas looked back at her briefly, not in annoyance but in appraisal. A decision formed in his eyes. He held out a hand to her. Sala reached for it automatically, pushing herself a little further to catch his fingers. As soon as they touched, Tomas muttered something under his breath, tracing quick letters on the back of her hand. Before she could register what they were, Tomas let out a final exhalation of breath.

“Keep up.” Tomas told her. He took off again, faster than before.

Sala stopped for a moment, uncertain what he’d just done. She doubtfully made to follow him. The first step she took almost threw her off balance. She felt somehow lighter, buoyed up just enough so that she was practically skimming the pot-holed pavement. Experimentally, she dug her heel into the ground, gathered her momentum, and rocketed herself forward. It was like flying. Two such skips caught her up to Tomas, two more propelled her gracefully ahead.

She laughed when she saw his expression as she passed him.

“That was meant to give you a boost,” Tomas said bluntly. “Not make you faster than me.”

Sala smiled and leaped further ahead, but not enough to risk slipping Tomas out into the light of other people’s sight. “Your speed is a spell, then.”

“What else would it be?” Tomas grumbled.

“You don’t use it very well, do you?”

In the moment it took for Sala to wink and Tomas to clench his jaw, they were gone.

--------

Kite del Mundo knew she wasn’t alone. Someone was watching her while she worked in the empty classroom. As always, Kite ignored them. It’d been happening on and off for weeks now. If they were too chicken to make a move, then they didn’t matter. Right now, she had to focus on getting her homework done in time. She had to get out of there before the night set in too deeply. It was probably too late already, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She just hated the extra precaution she had to take.

Kite boxed her final answer in her graphing notebook, started on the next problem. Minutes passed while she scribbled down quick calculations that were more like estimations. No one expected her to get top grades. That’s what her little brother was for.

The overhead fan hummed overhead, rippling the pages of her notebook with every pass. From where she sat, Kite could hear the cicadas singing in the distance while deepening streaks of pink and lavender crept across the sky. It was easy to see when one wall of the room was missing – there was no need for doors in this school. Every classroom at Calinao high school was designed to open directly into the hallway, which in turn was lined with half a wall that allowed students to lean over the railing and watch the activities going on in the quadrangle. Even now, this late after school, there were students there preparing for those activities while the heat of the day ebbed.

Kite finished up the last problem with a firm flick of her sign pen. Finally. In one smooth motion, she snapped her notebook shut, swept it into her open backpack, and shrugged the backpack halfway on. She zipped it closed as she made her way to the stairs, hitting the switches off as she passed, and felt the start of a thrill course through her. Another one tonight. It had been a while since the last time.

Swinging the plum bag back to its proper position, she took the stairs lightly, two at a time, hardly making a sound. She noted that the presence had receded when she left the classroom. That was a bad move, considering there would be a better opportunity for them later. Geez, wasn’t there anyone with the patience and skill to pull anything off? Kite wanted to bust them already. This whole watching thing was getting annoying. It wouldn’t have bothered her if it had been different people performing the surveillance, but it was the same person over and over. Kite didn’t know how she knew; she just did. And it irked her. Where were the guts?

Kite had plenty of that. She had climbed the flagpole and slid back down when she was thirteen – and she was wearing her uniform’s skirt too. She always raised her hand to go first when there was an impromptu recitation in class and no one had studied. She even drove to the city, Manila, where the traffic was an insane mess of vehicles and honking. She could do anything, if it interested her. She could even get into the Star section where the top kids were.

A couple of said kids were hanging in the quad when she passed by. They were the achievers, the ones who would amount to something some day. Some basketball guys, still sweaty from practice, were going around and grossing out the members of student council. Kite was amused to see a girl with coarse brown hair being harassed with splashes of sweat.

“Don’t smirk at me, Kite.” Whoops. The girl had seen her. Kite pretended not to notice and walked on.

“Too good to talk back?” The girl persisted. “Or too dumb?”

Kite stopped.

“I know you’re going to one of those, again. Stupidest thing ever. Why are you wasting your time with that crap?”

“Anna, lay off.” Another girl came up, this one with a plump frame, short stature, and frameless glasses. She also had an air of authority that came with being student body president. Anna shut up, though her expression clearly showed that she had more to say, and it wasn’t pleasant.

“Thanks, Yvette” Kite said when Yvette came closer. “I don’t have time to deal with her right now.” Or ever. For some unexplainable reason, Anna had it in for Kite since they were sophomores. They were seniors now and Anna still hadn’t grown up.

“I know you’re in a hurry.” Yvette said. She bowed her head apologetically, the wayward ends of her hair almost catching on her uniform’s bow tie. “But we’d really love to have your help again setting up for the summer festival. You were great the last time you came, and it was a ton of fun, right?”

“Sure.” Kite agreed immediately. Anything school-related wasn’t exactly fun to her. The events she did help out with were tolerable, though, infinitely better in comparison to zoning out during class. Besides, it was a legitimate reason to have a later curfew. Her little brother, Gerard, couldn’t tattle on her when she came home late for school-sanctioned academic activities.

“The summer fest will be an even better experience.” Yvette’s eyes lit up at the thought of it. “There’ll be booths, and lights, and costumes. It’ll be the perfect way to cap off our senior year.”

Kite resisted the urge to cut the conversation short, even if she needed these precious minutes. The fastest way to get out of there was to agree to anything, even if she’d have to pay for it later. With utmost politeness, Kite nodded, even smiled. “Count me in, then.”

Yvette smiled winningly. “That’s awesome. I’ll sign you up. Thanks again!”

Kite was already walking away. “I’ll help when I can.” she called over her shoulder.

“By the way, Kite, we’re heading to the Delta after this. You’re welcome to join.” The invitation was genuine. Sometimes, Kite even accepted.

“Can’t tonight, but thanks.” Kite waved, then focused forward, her pace increasing in tempo until she got to the gate where a guard stood, a rifle he never used strapped over his shoulder. Just like the guards at the mall. All show. He ignored her when she stopped just before the exit to gather her sleek strands into a functional ponytail. Sticking a final, tiny clip deep into the base of her ponytail, Kite readied herself on the brink between the safety of school and the lure of the outside. Lifting her head, she analyzed the darkening sky and angle of the setting sun. Even if she hailed a ride from a motorized tricycle, she could tell she would still be late for her curfew. Gerard would be thrilled. He always enjoyed being the better child, and often pretended to be the eldest too.

With an exasperated sigh, Kite set off.

Unnoticed by the large potted plants, in the area where the nannies and drivers normally waited, a figure casually stood up and walked after her in long, easy strides.

--------

It wasn’t hard to spot the Kite in the thick crowd. Her earrings glimmered tantalizingly in the slanting sunlight, catching Daro’s eye, and probably the eyes of others. For a girl who prided herself on being different, she was awfully similar to her high class classmates with her trendy jewelry. Today, she wore crystal earrings the color of the bay, and a bracelet that matched. A more subtle necklace hung around her neck, the string a generic black, the pendant a rough cross that was hewn out of some type of dark wood, possibly molave.

Accessories were the only aspect where Kite was similar to her peers. In everything else, she didn’t quite fit into the Calinaoan image. She’d been lugging the same beaten backpack for the past three years. Her shoes were scuffed, despite her efforts to keep them polished every day in accordance with school regulations. Even her uniform didn’t fit her the way it did other students. Instead of flowing gracefully, the burgundy and purple patterned skirt cut in stiff angles just past her knees. It was just as flattering, as the designer meant the uniform to be, but it had more of an edge than intended, especially when she marched instead of walked.

But that was the Kite. All of those shortcomings may have been forgivable in their shallow high school had she been smart, or talented, or even slightly friendly, but she was none of those things. It was her eccentricities that made her stand apart: her steel composure that made her snobbish, her recent penchant for wandering into the night to- Daro laughed to think of what she sought, and always, always had to hold himself back from doing anything.

But it would be so worth it to see her reaction.

As if to tempt him, her bracelet glinted at him as she reached up to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear. That was it. If he could do nothing else, then he had to annoy her at the very least.

It was no problem getting through the mass of pedestrians. Swiftness had always been a gift of his. There was also the fact that people tended to step out of his way when he passed though, their eyes never quite catching sight of him, reacting like ripples to a stone. Most moved aside without consciously meaning to, but there was always an odd person who didn't. Naturally, that person was Kite.

“Leave me alone, stalker.” Kite said just as he got within earshot, maybe even a little before. Daro heard her anyway, and dropped all attempts at disguising his approach. He was fast but he had never been light in step.

She hadn’t even turned around to ascertain she wasn’t telling off a random stranger. Daro laughed mentally, then easily caught up with her in two strides when it would have taken another guy four. He wheeled around on her and blocked her path. “Why would I want to stalk you, Katie?”

“Because you enjoy irritating me.” Kite accurately answered. “And stop calling me that.”

“Suuure… Kaite.” Daro chuckled, which effectively upped the annoyance factor. Kite attempted to step around him and hurry away to wherever she was going that night, but he effortlessly kept pace with her.

“It’s those long legs of yours. Abnormal. You need to be put in a lab and studied.” Kite cursed, still walking fast. Daro wasn’t listening. He had caught sense of something. Something like him? Or someone with an intent? Before he could figure out what it was, Kite whirled around, her ponytail almost whipping him, so fast was her about-face. The glare she projected up, up, up at him tore through his already paper-thin focus. He hated when she did that and thus obliged her with a dark look of his own.

“That act may work with our classmates,” said Kite, her simple features edged with irritation. Score! Daro thought to himself. “But I’m not a part of your star section. Stupid people don’t get intimidated, and stupid people don’t have to pretend to be nice. So get lost.”

“But I came to help you out!” Daro put on his sincerest expression. It was hard. Kite was far from fooled.

“Help? You came to sabotage me.”

Daro didn’t deny it, but he did his utmost to stifle a smile. His face was prone to glaring, which helped, but it was still a struggle. “What makes you say that?”

"Remember the Santos house incident? When you saw me unlocking the door with a key THEY gave me to look around, you rounded up the neighbors and told them someone was robbing the house?" Kite ticked off a finger. "Or how about the time you scared that guy I was interviewing about those fake white lady sightings. He thought YOU were a demon." She ticked off another. Kite went on – there was much to go on about and it was no surprise she was pissed with him - but Daro had tuned her out.

There it was again. He couldn’t pass it off this time. Someone was watching.

It pierced through the din around them. Vendors dotted the main street they were on at random intervals, sprouting as they did overnight and disappearing the next. Traffic choked the road, running up onto the sidewalks at some points. Commuters were either literally running to catch a jeepney, or were idly standing around, waiting for one to come. Even with Kite ranting right in front of him, Daro could still feel eyes on him, on her.

This was disrespectful. Daro moved to teach the observer some manners.

“So that’s it? You’re done with me and now you’re just going to disappear?”

Daro paused in his departure. He smiled handsomely, even if Kite had told him on more than one occasion that he was as ugly as a horse. "Did you want me to stay, Katie?"

Without hesitation, Kite dismissed him with a, “Get out of my face.” She pushed at him for good measure – and it wasn’t lightly – her tan fingers splayed across his shirt cuff, her palm resting against his bare skin. It was all he could do to not verbally reaction to the shock that passed through her direct touch. It was like she had rubbed her feet on a thousand yards of carpet just to jolt him.

Daro transformed the reflex into a purposeful fall forward, followed by a quick push to spring back to his feet. He straightened with a flourish, even craning his head around to see who had witnessed his spontaneous piece of choreography. Unfortunately, no one had noticed, not even Kite who had disappeared into some side street.

Somewhat let down, Daro plunged a hand into a pocket and headed to another street where the eyes would lose sight of him. He admitted that there was nothing he liked better than being appreciated for his gifts, although bugging the Kite was proving to be just as enjoyable. If he had only known sooner how easy it was, he would not have given her the benefit of peace for all those years.

He had never ignored her, though. And as much as everyone pretended indifference, no one else could ignore her either.

--------

Both hands working at readying his weapon, Tomas used his lips to point at the pair. “Is that him?” he asked as quietly as possible.

The two looked ordinary enough. Both were the usual tan color of the region, both wore the standard Ignacio Calinoa uniform, and both sported backpacks, though the boy’s appeared next to empty. They walked side by side, moving and talking as if in jest. If Tomas were any less observant, he would have thought they were friends walking home after school.

Despite appearances, Tomas was sure they were not close. The difference was how the girl stood rigidly straight, as if she could somehow match the guy’s impossible height. While the guy smirked, the girl scowled fiercely, which amused the guy all the more. Tomas hoped she would punch the guy at some point. That would be evidence enough, and then they could step in and lend a hand…

Sala didn’t bother to lower her voice, disguised as it was as wind. “Yup, that’s the guy. Daro Vesiro, high school senior, on the varsity team for track, student of Ignacio Calinao since kindergarten.”

“Since kindergarten?” Tomas asked dubiously. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“We haven’t had time. You’re the one who wanted to go after him right away.” Tomas didn’t have to see Sala to know she was making another face at him. She continued. “Everything I’ve found so far confirms that Daro’s been here since he was a kid. School records, student’s memories, you know the deal. His existence wasn’t spun out of nothing.”

Tomas analyzed what she said, looking through her without seeing her. Sala merely reflected back at him, not literally, but enough to startle him and make him resurface. Right. He had a partner now. He had to relay what he was thinking.

Shaking his head to clear the dancing dots from his vision, Tomas clarified, “Even if he did grow up like a human, that still doesn’t make him dangerous.”

Sala shrugged. “He could actually be human.”

“But your witness says otherwise.”

Sala spoke carefully. She was always so careful, as if every action she made had to be planned beforehand. “I don’t want to act on only what my witness says. We need to verify things for ourselves.”

The cover hiding them suddenly flapped up, nearly twirling off them completely and dissipating back into the objects from which they were borrowed. Sala closed her light brown eyes, clenched her hands into fists and made an awful face, like she was towing a car with her bare hands. She fell on her knees, but nothing further so Tomas didn’t bother to support her. The shadows fluttered back over them.

Through gritted teeth, Sala made great effort to speak. “He knows we’re here.”

“Clearly.” Tomas scanned the street for the pair, but both had disappeared, as he had expected. He debated whether to unsheathe his bolo now, though the bolo itself wasn’t enough in matters like these.

“We’re not going to confront him.” Sala repeated. She refused to let go of their cover, despite the sweat appearing on her forehead, dripping down her cheek. She breathed oddly, a sequence of exhalations with no apparent inhalation.

“If he finds us first, what else are we going to do?” Tomas said matter-of-factly.

He didn’t expect Sala to stand in her state, but she did. “Run.”

Tomas found himself running with her against his will, the few shadows she kept a hold of leaping ahead to muffle the pounding of their feet against the cement road. Sala had her arms spread out in the air, fists still clenched, looking like a child pretending to be a superhero with an imaginary cape. They made their way deeper into a subdivision of housing which was quieter and potentially safer if it came down to a fight. Less chance of interruptions from someone passing by. There were few lampposts around, but once the sun set, they would cast bright white light and equally as sharp shadows that Sala could make use of if necessary. At least, that’s what Tomas thought. He wasn’t absolutely clear on how Sala’s other powers worked yet. He had been too impatient to have a total information exchange with her. It was too late to have one now.

The cicadas humming in this subdivision was almost deafening. They converged in the empty lots here and there that had yet to be bought and developed into more houses. Mosquitoes nipped at Tomas’ bare legs, eager to get a taste of blood, but he was moving too fast for them to latch on.

His companion wasn’t. She slapped at her arm while she plodded after him, steadily growing slower by the second. Tomas had known from the start that this would be a major disability – he had confirmed it when she had not been able to keep up the first time they had run that night. Sala was not made for physical exertion. Add to that, the mental strain she was undergoing just to keep them covered.

Sala stopped abruptly, and bent over. “I can’t go on.” she heaved.

“Straighten up and put your hands on your hips.” Tomas told her. He jogged back to her, allowing the cloak to contract and grow denser around them. “You’ll get more air that way.”

Sala moved accordingly. Her light skin made it easy to see how flushed her face was. “Your spell, do your spell.”

“I can’t so soon. I won’t have enough left.”

“Weakling.” A good-natured voice sang out merrily. The source appeared shortly after, looking straight at them with his large, unnatural eyes. “That shield is sloppy. I can see your toes peeking out.” He snapped a coin at their toes to illustrate. It pinged the ground loudly, making Tomas glad he had missed.

Sala exhaled and the blanket disappeared, uncovering her and Tomas. Sala looked considerably disheveled from exertion but she managed to glower so darkly that Tomas would have winced if it had been directed at him.

The suspect raised his eyes in a questioning manner. “I’m sorry, did I offend you?”

“Yes.” Sala snapped.

“Awesome.”

Tomas had to step forward to distract Sala, who looked ready to pounce, which was not logical. Tomas was certain she had no offensive abilities; that was why they had teamed up in the first place. Despite that, Sala’s stance angled forward, her nostrils flared, and her eyes were impossibly vivid, almost a molten hazel. As soon as he was in her line of sight, Sala immediately toned down and appeared apologetic. For someone so adamant about avoiding confrontation, Sala was surprisingly easy to get heated in one. Do as I say, not as I do.

The suspect likewise observed Sala, from her curly hair to her checkered shoes, then moved to Tomas in a quick once over that left Tomas feeling insulted.

Tomas used his darkest, most intimidating voice. “What do you want, Daro?”

Instead of answering, Daro broke out in laughter. He laughed, then laughed some more, doubling up from the hysteria of it. Charcoal brown strands fell into his eyes, clearly not in line with the school grooming policy.

“Stop it.” Tomas said, still in alto.

Daro roared and pointed.

Sala fidgeted uncomfortably.”Maybe you should talk in your normal voice.” She whispered to Tomas behind a cupped hand. Tomas waved her off, grateful his dark skin covered his blush of embarrassment. He was used to being taken seriously, not laughed at by this idiot.

“All right, Daro.” Tomas said, now in his normal voice. Daro’s laughter didn’t abate, his loud guffaws echoing throughout the empty street. No one was around to investigate. Many of the residents were still caught in rush hour traffic. Not even the maids or elderly grandparents came out to see what was going on. Only the dogs responded, their frenzy of barking starting to distract Tomas.

Growing frustrated, Tomas practically shouted, “Shut up!” The lamps flickered at Tomas last word, shutting on and off several times before regaining their steady beam. The dogs fell silent.

Daro unfurled himself to full height, moving with slow deliberation that did not suit the track star. Fast was normal on him. Slow was as unnerving as a predator stalking its prey.

“What I want,” he said in equally deliberate words. “Is to know why you’re following her.”

Tomas and Sala were taken aback. They looked at each other, and then at Daro.

“Her who?” Sala asked, confused.

“That girl you were stalking?” Tomas asked at the same time.

Daro looked skyward. At his height there was little point to the move. His head was clearly already lost somewhere up there. "I wasn't stalking. I was chaperoning."

"You were being annoying." Sala corrected.

The suspect bared his teeth and Tomas took a half step back. Daro's teeth were rounded and large, each yellowed tooth exactly the same as the next, all fit impossibly into Daro’s square jaw. It was then that Tomas realized that Daro was smiling.

“That too.” Daro replied. Proudly.

Disgusted, Tomas lifted his bolo up, its sharp, curving blade glittering softly in the dusk light. A bead of scented oil dropped from the tip, plopping onto the white road.

Daro didn’t react as most creatures would have to the oil. They cringed, usually, or made a face at the smell. It was pleasant to humans, but never to them.

“Me? You’re after me?” Daro pointed at himself to make his question clear. He raised his eye brows comically.

Sala stepped forward, putting herself in line with Tomas.

“You said he was in the star section, that honors class? Unbelievable.” Tomas muttered out of the corner of his mouth, not sparing her a glance. It was vital to keep his eyes on Daro. To lose sight of Daro would be to lose Daro completely.

Sala knew the drill. She likewise kept her eyes forward, her stance squared and unsteady, liable to being toppled over at a firm push. Tomas wasn’t quite as open to attack. He had one foot slightly behind him, while he held his bolo parallel to his face, tip pointed straight at Daro. He reached his left hand forward, beckoning Daro.

“Wait.” Sala was in cautious mode. Tomas resisted being pulled in by her nerves again, as he had been when they had run away.

“No.” There was no chance Tomas was going to pass up this opportunity now that it was here.

“We’re not sure it’s him.”

“It’s him.” Tomas said. “You said yourself that he’s been following all those students who have disappeared. Do you want him to take more?”

“Yes- no- I can’t read anything bad from him, and normally I can-“

“If it matters, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Daro interrupted their whispered conversation. “Not that I care, either way. I was just scoping you guys out but it wasn’t worth the time.” Crumbling cement crunched underneath his heel as he pivoted around. He was either oblivious or unconcerned he was exposing his back to them.

“Thanks for the target.” Tomas raised his bolo high above his head.

Sala was suddenly on him, getting in his way, pleading, “No, Tomas-“

Tomas shoved her aside so she wouldn’t get hurt and raised his bolo again, this time finishing the requisite slashes in the air. With a final thrust downward, the bolo started to exude dark wisps of violet smoke, which were invisible to the ordinary eye.

Sala saw it, and seemed to regret stopping Tomas. "I thought you were going to throw that at him." Her moment of relief passed quickly. She looked back at Daro but the suspect was gone. Tomas cursed, having lost sight of the bastard for that split second Sala had gotten in his face.

"I'd love to stay and get attacked,"

Sala and Tomas spun around to find Daro had moved some distance behind them.

"But I've got homework to do, unlike some students." Daro said pointedly. "You two are from the city, aren't you? Hope you don't get lost on your way home."

"We won't." Tomas said. "But you might not even make it to yours."

"Big talk for a big college boy. Not like it's going to help you find your way."

Daro snapped something small behind them that made a loud crackling noise. Sala jumped and looked, Tomas looked out of reflex because she was looking. Not again! He caught himself too late. Flicking his eyes back to the spot Daro had been last, he wasn’t surprised to find Daro was gone once more, this time not to return.

Irritated, Tomas walked over to examine what Daro had thrown. It was a cheap snapping firecracker that any kid could purchase at the market. Tomas cursed.

Sala kicked at a piece while they walked towards the main road. "That's the thing about dealing with demons all the time. You forget about the human tricks."

"He's not human." Tomas insisted stubbornly.

Sala appeared to share the same sentiment but tried to be objective. "What proof do you have?"

“Nothing.” Tomas replied. “Yet.”

There was a slight pause.

“I’m beginning to notice a pattern.” Sala said thoughtfully.

“That pattern being?” It looked like she was starting in on her psychological babble. Psych students were so annoying.

“Your penchant for saying ‘yet’. You can’t always be right, Tomas.” They reached a cross street, though it was hard to tell the way the roads skewed into one another. Sala looked around, bewildered. “Isn’t this the way we came?”

It was, but oddly the street they were supposed to turn left on looked unfamiliar. Tomas glanced back at the street they’d come from. The house with the red gate was still there but it was in the wrong position. Tomas remembered it to be on the other side of the road.

He laughed. It was the first time he’d done so in Sala’s presence. She was polite enough to cover up her surprise, though he did see her mouth drop a fraction. Recovering, she asked him what he found so amusing.

Tomas gestured around them. "We're lost."

Post too large, it says! Next part here.

[August 1] [Original] At the Door

2007-08-02T06:33:08Z

I haven't been writing so I need to find my voice again. Forgive the stiffness. Am going for quantity this month, so most will be first drafts written on the commuter train.

So. Written for 31 days. No series, just a short I came up with on the fly.

Title: At the Door
Day/Theme: August 1 / Who knocks at my heart?
Series: Orignal
Character/Pairing: Original
Rating: PG
Word Count: 534

She paced around the coffee table of her tiny living room, her feet padding unheard on the rough rug.

In time with her steps came the soft knock, knock, knock on her apartment door. Around and around she went, hugging herself as if it would make the incessant tapping go away. She'd tried turning on the TV and blasting the radio but no amount of noise could drown out the rhythm that no one else could hear.

So she went around in silence. Maybe it would think she'd escaped. Maybe it would give up if she were quiet enough.

She tipped over onto the floor, almost knocking a pile of candles off the table with her. Immediately, she propped herself up on her elbows, her short hair awry, and listened. There was no sound. Her feet must have automatically stopped the moment the knocking had ceased.

The door wasn't very far and yet each slow step she took toward it took minutes, hours, ages. Placing her hand on the flaking door knob, she tiptoed to steal a glimpse through the peephole. Nothing was there, but she'd been fooled that way before.

Sure enough, the knocking started again. It was slower. It was tiring as she was. Whether it was out of pity for it or herself, she decided it was time to end this stalemate.

Gripping the door knob firmly, steeling her heart even more so, she opened the door.

It stood there as she feared, fully transformed, a towering mass of mane and muscle. Its eyes were round as marbles and as unnatural as it was, it still looked like his eyes. It reached out an imploring hand but all she could see was the way the thick hair faded into its human wrist, see how it had feet when its head suggested it should have hoofs.

She cringed, waiting for it to cross the threshold, but of course it couldn't. The candles still burned bright behind her.

"I can't let you in." She told him - it.

It whinnied sadly. She tried not to watch as its fur fell away and its face shrank into itself until he looked as he did that first time, human but wrong somehow. Why hadn't she seen it then?

"I still know what you are." She said icily. "I can't forget that."

He reached a finger through the ward, pushing through a tip though the ward crackled fiercely and set his hair afloat. He looked at her with those eyes, steadily as he'd always done when she thought the world was ending. She hadn't known then how trivial those matters had been.

"I didn't ask you to." he said, pointing the tip at her. "Will you let me in, now?"

"No." she replied. She pushed his finger out with her own but found herself being pulled along with him, out, out into the hall where there was no protection, no hiding, nothing but him and her, together.

He gaped at her, surprised. "I didn't plan this part."

She laughed despite herself, even as he - it - he hugged her.

Truths Unseen: The second Beginning

2006-12-01T08:37:32Z

I tried to do NaNoWriMo but as usual, I slacked and let life get in the way, so this is all I have. Thanks for the company and prodding, swollenfoot! We'll get it next year, ne?

So here it is. Truths Unseen
If Kite del Mundo had been less experienced, she would have assumed that the hush of the classroom meant she was alone. She knew she wasn't, but she continued to write in her spiral notebook as if she was. There was homework to finish, and she had no time for games that night. She had other plans.

As she neatly drew a square around her final answer, Kite wondered who it was this time that was watching, waiting for the perfect opportunity that would never come. It had been happening for more nights than she could remember, never consecutive, always random and scattered so that she wouldn't notice.

But she did.

An eruption of laughter from the quad broke through her thoughts. Looking up, Kite noticed that the watcher was gone. Back into her imagination.

Kite shut her trigonometry notebook and stood up in one motion. The sky was shuttered in pink and violet; dusk was coming, along with everything that came with it. She hurriedly threw her things into her backpack, shrugged it on, and quickly made her way down the stairs and into the lingering group of students. Some were rolling up student announcement posters, others were playing basketball or watching from the sidelines. They were the extracurricular students – those who excelled and those who lived up high school for all it was worth.

"Oy, Kite!" A chubby girl called from one of the subgroups. She waved Kite over, ignoring the way some of the girls were raising their perfectly plucked eyebrows. Pauline was head of the Student Council communications committee. She mixed with people of all kinds, much like how the ends of her hair twisted this way and that, despite its initial straightness. "Coming to the Delta?"

"Nope." Kite replied, shifting her backpack. "I have to do something tonight."

"Not another stupid 'mission'." Laughed someone beside Pauline. Her small eyes, dark and sharp, were anything but friendly.

"Anna," Pauline chided.

Anna pressed her thin lips together. "Well, they are."

Kite said nothing, merely let the words and looks slide over and past her. The sun was close to setting. Patting Pauline's arm, she bid the group farewell. Some of them snickered behind their hands, while others belted out a chorus of "Bye-bye!" to cover it up.

"We could use some help for the summer festival tomorrow." Pauline called after Kite. Kite raised her hand in a half-wave as her acknowledgement.

At the exit, the threshold between the safety of school and the lure of dusk, she paused long enough to gather her sleek strands into a ponytail and secure it with a tiny clip. Lifting her head, she analyzed the darkening sky and slant of light, and guessed she would most likely be late. Her little brother would be thrilled. Botoy loved to be the better child, and often pretended to be the eldest too.

With an exasperated sigh, Kite set off.

On the bench by the exit, a place where the maids and drivers often waited, he stood up, stretched, and walked after her in long, easy strides.

~~~*~*``

They got off the jeepney barely a second before the metallic beast took off in search of more passengers just down the road. Tomas steadied Sala, who'd been the last one to step down just as the public transportation vehicle began to inch forward in anticipation.

"Thanks." She said. Tomas immediately drew away from her and began to walk ahead, despite having barely an idea of which direction they were supposed to go. Sala shook her head, more amused than puzzled, though she was both. "Do you know where you're going?"

"Yes. Near Halaan compound." He replied.

"For a boy from out of town, you know your way around."

Tomas shrugged. "I've been hunting here a lot longer than you have."

"I'm not hunting." She corrected. "I'm investigating."

"Whatever."

Sala mentally sighed and wondered if it would be like this the whole time they worked together. If he hadn't needed help, she was sure he would have never have agreed to team up with her. As it was, his reluctant attitude was trying, but she sensed he was finding her just as difficult.

"Remember, we're not going to confront him if we see him there." Sala told him, just to be sure.

Tomas’ eyes were focused ahead in concentration, impatiently trying to glimpse the campus. "I know. You needn't keep reminding me." Already, his tone was rising in irritation.

Sala put a calming hand on him. "Your temper seems like it could use some nagging."

His arm was rigid, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he looked to the side somewhat guiltily in remembrance of what had transpired the other day. "Is your shoulder all right now?" For a moment, he sounded concerned, but it was hard to tell, especially when he added in a sharper tone, "The way you're moving, it looks like it is."

He was observant, she gave him that. "You're right. It's fine." In truth, it was still sore, but the bruise was already fading into pale lavender.

"You know, of course, that I didn't mean to hit you. I just didn't think that damn dwende could move so fast."

“That’s why you shouldn’t let those creatures bother you. He’ll poke at your patience too once he finds out who you are.”

Tomas stopped abruptly and swirled his finger in the air. Sala immediately pulled a cloak of dark and wind over herself and Tomas.

"Someone's near." He murmured. In the shifting shadows, his face was a glowing ashen.

Sala, too, felt the presence. It was like firelight – flickering and fleeting, a sudden burst of heat that quickly receded. It often happened before she met a friend or a foe. The problem was, it was always difficult to tell which.

"Do you see who it is?" she asked.

"Not yet." Tomas replied before taking off, stretching the web of shadows between them, nearly causing it to slip off. Sala had to run after him, her steps muffled, her heavy breaths muted.

Tomas was obviously not used to slowing down for a partner. He looked back at her impatiently. "Hurry, or it'll be gone."

Sala gave him a look and called back, "If I could hurry any faster, I'd be there already."

Tomas briefly faced forward again, then turned back once more to reach out a hand. She automatically extended her own to meet his. He took a firm grip and began to mumble something unintelligible while tracing his thumb over the back of her hand. Before she could wonder, her feet instantly lightened and she practically lifted off the cracking pavement. She looked up at Tomas, but he had already started running again.

Digging her heel into the ground, Sala gathered her momentum and rocketed herself forward. It took two skips to catch up with him, one to get ahead of him. Sala laughed when she saw his expression as she passed.

"I meant to give you a boost, not make you faster than me." Tomas said bluntly.

Sala smiled and skipped further ahead, but not enough to endanger Tomas slipping out into light. "So this speed thing is a trick."

"What else would it be?" Tomas grumbled.

"Show me how to do it, and I'll show you how to use it."

In the moment it took her to wink and him to deadpan, they were gone.

~~~*~*``

Even in such a thick crowd, Daro could spot her from a great distance. Such was the presence of the Kite.

It did help that she sported the Calinoan uniform too. The plaid green and violet bow around her neck matched an equally too trendy skirt, cut to enhance any body type. Their school may not have been at the top of its class, but it certainly topped aesthetics, not just in uniform fashion, but also in its smooth, curved buildings, open classrooms and detailed landscaping.

In many respects, Kite did not fit into the superficial class of the school. Her skin was not bleached with skin-whitening products and her way of walking was not quite graceful. The plum purple backpack she'd had since she was a new freshman was worn from years of activity. Scuff marks were visible on her black shoes, even when it was obvious that she polished them every morning.

All that might have been forgivable if her personality had been outgoing or her intellect was above the norm. As it was, Kite participated in orgs reluctantly and constantly struggled to keep her marks above 83. Generally, that was acceptable.

It was her eccentricities that were not: her steel composure that made her snobbish, her recent penchant for wandering into the night to - Daro laughed to think of what she sought, and he always, always had to hold himself back.

But it would be worth it to see her reaction.

As if to tempt him, her dangling earrings glinted in the dying light, attracting his eye. If that flagged his attention, then there was no other way. He had to do it.

It was no problem getting through the throng of pedestrians. Swiftness had always been a talent of his. There was also the fact that people tended to step aside when he passed, their eyes never quite catching sight of him, reacting like ripples to a stone. Most moved without meaning to, yet there was always the odd person that didn't. Naturally, that odd person was Kite.

"Leave me alone, stalker." She told him as soon as Daro was within earshot, maybe even before. He heard, nevertheless, and dropped all effort to disguise his approach. He was fast, but he'd never been light in step.

Daro easily caught up with her in two strides when it would've taken another guy four. "Why would I wanna stalk you, Katie?"

"Because you enjoy irritating me." Kite answered accurately. "And stop calling me that."

Daro chuckled, which annoyed her even more. She hurried to get away from him, but he effortlessly kept pace. While she cursed his abnormally long legs, he caught sense of something. Before he could determine what, she abruptly stopped walking and glared up, up, up at him, tearing through his focus in the process. He hated when she did that, and thus readily obliged her with his own dark look.

"That may work on your classmates," said Kite, her simple features edged with petulancy. "But I'm not part of your star section. Stupid people aren't as easy to scare, and stupid people don't need to pretend to be polite. So, go away."

"But I've come to help." said Daro, putting on his sincerest expression. Kite wasn't fooled.

"Help? You've come to sabotage me."

Daro didn't deny it, though he did his best to stifle a smile. His face was prone to glaring, which helped immensely, but it was still a struggle. "What makes you say that?"

"Remember the Santos house incident? When you saw me unlocking the door with a key THEY gave me to look around, you rounded up the neighbors and told them someone was robbing the house?" Kite ticked off a finger. "Or how about the time you creeped out that guy I was interviewing about those fake white lady sightings. He thought YOU were a demon." She ticked off another. Kite went on – there was much to go on about and it was no surprise she was exasperated beyond measure - but Daro had stopped listening.

There it was again. Someone looking. The pinpoint of eyes.

The street they stood on the side of was choked with noisy traffic. Vendors dotted the street at random intervals, sprouting as they did overnight and disappearing the next. Commuters were either literally running to catch a jeepney, or were idly standing, waiting for one to come. Horns honked, people called out "para!", but despite all the activity, the sense was still there. It wasn't just a passing observer; it was an intense watcher with a vested interest. Daro moved to find out what.

"-and now, after you claim you want to 'help' me, you're just going disappear?"

Daro paused in his departure. He smiled handsomely, even if she'd told him on more than one occasion that he was as ugly as a horse. "Did you want me to stay, Katie?"

"Just leave, idiot." She pushed him, her tan fingers splayed across his shirt cuff, palm pressing against his bare skin. The contact made him nearly topple over, but he exaggerated the fall and finished with an acrobatic move that involved a complicated twist.

He looked back to see if Kite had seen his awesome move, but she had just disappeared into a side street.

Somewhat let down, Daro set off. There was nothing he liked better than being appreciated for his talent, although annoying the Kite was proving to be just as enjoyable. If he'd only known sooner how easy it was, he wouldn't have given her the benefit of peace for all those years.

He had never ignored her, though. And as much as everyone else pretended, no one could either.

~~~*~*``

Tomas, both his hands gripping a bolo, pointed his lips at the tall, dark boy who was walking beside a visibly irritated girl. It was obvious they didn’t belong together. The boy was square and brutish while the girl was smooth-edged and fragile.

"Is that him?" Tomas asked as quietly as possible.

Sala didn't bother in lowering her own voice, disguised as it was as wind. "Yup, that's the guy. Daro Vesiro, high school junior, track varsity, student of Ignacio Calinao high school since kindergarten."

"Since kinder? Tomas repeated dubiously.

"Everything I've found confirms it. School records, students' memories, you know the deal. His presence wasn't spun out of nothing."

Tomas analyzed what she said, his eyes looking through her as if he could see into her own guarded mind. Sala merely reflected back at him, making him blink, startled. Shaking his head, he said, "So he's not a transplant. That still doesn't mean he's not dangerous."

Sala shrugged, the ends of her dress swaying with the upward movement. "We've only got theories at this point."

"But you have a witness, that girl who gave you her testimony."

"She didn't give it to me, exactly. She-"

Her cover of shadows suddenly flapped up, nearly twirling off of them. Sala closed her eyes and made an awful face, like one someone would make while trying to tow a car with her bare hands.

Sala gritted her teeth, made an effort to speak. "He knows we're here."

Tomas had guessed as much, already scanning the spot they'd last seen the pair, but both were gone. He gripped his weapon tighter, although the bolo by itself wasn't much use when dealing with matters like these.

He stood up straight, even as the shadows flickered, revealing his shoes, his legs. "Save your energy, Sala."

"We're not confronting him." Sala repeated, refusing to let go despite the sweat trickling down her temples.

"If he finds us first, what else are we going to do?"

Sala stood up in a jilted motion. "Run."

Tomas found himself running with her against his will, what few shadows Sala managed to hold onto leaping ahead to muffle the pounding of their feet.

Sala had her arms out wide and her fists clenched into the air, looking as if she were a child pretending she could fly with an imaginary cape. They made their way deep into a subdivision of housing, where it was quieter and hopefully, safer. There were few lampposts, but once the sun set, they would cast megawatt light and equally as sharp shadows that Tomas thought Sala could make use of if necessary.

The cicadas hummed noisily around them from the empty lots here and there that were yet to be bought and developed. Mosquitoes nipped at Tomas' bare legs, hungry for blood, but he was moving too fast for them to latch on.

His companion wasn't. She slapped at her arm as she plodded on, steadily growing slower by the second. Tomas had known from the start that this would be a major disability – her firm yet undoubtedly plump body type wasn't made for physical exertion. Sala began to slow, her breaths coming hard and fast. "Your trick, Tomas, do your trick."

Tomas shook his head. "I can't so soon, not without using everything up."

"How weak." said a boyish and good-natured voice. The source himself appeared soon after, looking straight at them with his large, unnatural eyes. "That cover is sloppy. I can see your toes peeking out."

Sala exhaled and the cover dissipated, revealing her and Tomas, both of whom were catching their breath. Sala looked considerably disheveled from the exertion, physical and mental, but she managed to glare back so fiercely that Tomas would have winced if it had been directed towards him.

The suspect raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. "I'm sorry, did I offend you?"

"Yes." Sala snapped.

"Good."

Tomas had to step forward to distract Sala, who looked ready to pounce despite having no offensive abilities. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes were impossibly vivid, almost a molten hazel, but they toned down as soon as he moved in her line of fire.

For someone so quick to avoid confrontation, Sala was just as quick to get heated in one, Tomas observed. The suspect likewise observed, his eyes scanning Sala up and down, then moving onto Tomas in a quick once over that left Tomas feeling insulted.

Tomas used his darkest, most intimidating voice. "What do you want, Daro?"

To Tomas’ astonishment, Daro broke out in laughter. He laughed, and laughed some more, doubling up from the hysteria of it. Charcoal brown strands fell into his eyes, clearly not into line with school grooming policy.

"Stop it." Tomas said, still in alto.

Daro roared and pointed.

Sala fidgeted uncomfortably. "Maybe you should talk in your normal voice.," she whispered to Tomas behind a cupped pale hand. Tomas waved her off, and was grateful his brown skin covered a deep blush of embarrassment.

"All right, Daro." Tomas said when the boy's laughter didn't abate.

Daro continued to let out loud, guffawing laughs that echoed through out the quiet street. It was a miracle no one had come out to see what was going on. Many owners were probably caught in a snarl of rush hour traffic, but typically there was at least one person guarding the house, usually a maid or an elderly grandparent. The dogs were certainly barking up a storm.

Growing frustrated, Tomas repeated, "I said all RIGHT." The lamps flickered at Tomas' last word, shutting on and off several times before regaining their steady beam. The dogs fell silent.

Daro unfurled himself from his doubled-over posture, moving with a slow deliberation that didn't suit the track star. "What I want," he said in equally deliberate words. "is to know why you're following her."

Tomas and Sala were taken aback. They looked at each other, then at Daro.

"Her who?" Sala asked, confused.

"That girl you were stalking?" Tomas said at the same time.

Daro looked skyward, and at his height, there was little point to the move. His head was clearly already lost somewhere up there. "I wasn't *stalking*. I was chaperoning."

"You were being annoying." Sala corrected.

The suspect bared his teeth and Tomas took a half step back. Daro's teeth were rounded and large, each yellowed tooth exactly the same as the next, all fit impossibly into Daro’s square jaw. It was then that Tomas realized that Daro was smiling.

“That too.” Daro replied. Proudly.

Disgusted, Tomas lifted his bolo up, its sharp, curving blade glistening softly in the dusk light. A bead of oil dropped from the tip, plopping onto the white, cemented pavement that was the street.

Daro watched, still not reacting to him, to them. He said idly, "So you're after me, is that it?"

Sala, too, stepped forward so that she and Tomas were inline. Tomas didn't spare her a glance, keeping his gaze firmly on Daro because to lose sight of him would be to lose him completely. Sala likewise kept her eyes forward and posture proud and confident, but Tomas could feel her tremble nervously beside him. Her nerves were pulling him in with her, just as it did earlier when they had run, and he was balancing carefully on edge.

In his normal, understated tone, Tomas answered, "Yes."

Daro took in a relaxed breath, still smiling. "If that's all then," Crumbling bits of cement from the street crunched as he pivoted around. Strangely, his back was just as intimidating as his front.

Tomas raised his blade. "Thanks for the target."

"Wait!"

Tomas resisted looking at Sala. He glared at Daro's back instead. "What?" he hissed.

"You can't hurt him. We're not sure yet." She said quietly.

"What do you mean? You said yourself he's been following all those students who've disappeared. Do you want him to take more?"

"No, but I can't read it on him, and normally I can-"

"He's just blocking you." Tomas raised his arm again but Sala tried to get in his way so he couldn't complete his move. He shoved her aside so she wouldn't get hurt, raised his bolo high above his head, and decisively swung downwards. The force of his swing caused a breeze to ruffle through Sala's wavy hair.

Sala stared. Tomas' bolo was now glowing a soft, barely perceptible inky violet. "I thought you were going to throw that at him." She looked back at Daro, but he was gone. Tomas cursed, having lost sight of the boy for that split second Sala had gotten in his face.

"I'd love to stay and get attacked,"

Sala and Tomas spun around to find Daro had moved some distance behind them.

"But I've got homework to do, unlike *some* students." Daro said pointedly. "You're from the city, aren't you? Hope you don't get lost on your way home."

"We won't." Tomas said. "But you might not even make it to yours."

Daro had a secret smile on his face, but other than that, he did nothing, waiting for them to make the next move.

His bolo boiling black, Tomas gripped the handle and obliged.

~~~*~*``

On the outside, the house looked as normal as its neighbor, other than the fact that no one lived in it. It wasn't abandoned, as the cliché went. Its owner had simply gone abroad with intentions to return for vacation soon.

The years passed, and the layers of dust thickened, and soon never quite came. So the house stood against rain and sun, and as the neighborhood children grew older, the stories they had made up for fun about the house soon morphed into truth.

The fact was, according to the maid across the way, the house was haunted. The maid herself was from a far-flung province, making her accent heavy but her Sight clear. Fire, she'd said, eerie balls of fire flickered through the house some nights, staining the walls with strange colors. If she peeped just far enough when it was day, she could make out a scramble of drawings through the parted curtains that should've been closed.

"They curses, all over everything, they corrupt the house and anyone who enter it." The maid explained as she wrung out a pair of jeans she'd been rubbing against a jutted wood slab. "That is why no one goes in to rob. All those antiques – no one steal them for all these years. For sure, that house haunted. Don't go near it or it will stain you too."

Other than the rays of dying sunlight filtering through the windows and flooding the house with orange, Kite didn't see anything else stain-worthy. The walls on the first floor weren't a pristine white, but they were bare of any evil drawings, save for a few paintings of fruit spreads that looked alternately of brains or feces.

Drop cloths, grayed with dust and time, covered all the furniture. She made a careful walkthrough, pulling off the cloths one by one, causing hardly any dust to rise up. The maid was right about one thing: they were antiques, although Kite didn't think they were the kind worth stealing. The bamboo bench looked particularly uncomfortable to sit on.

Replacing all the cloths, Kite ventured to the kitchen where ant trails had sprung up. There was a scurrying of small bodies, and a flash of tail through a gnawed hole in a cabinet door. Kite rolled her eyes, holding back a laugh lest she inhale any rat germs. This was just another house, as she'd thought, given a bad rep only by years of being alone. She could relate to that.

A creak reverberated through the ceiling above her. Alert at once, Kite found the stairs and quickly ascended, despite the dimness of sunset and the aging wood. The advantage of creeping through dozens of houses like this one was that she could move without making a sound.

At the top of the stairs was a hall. A mirror hung lengthwise on one side, just above a mantle that showcased two smooth bamboo weapons. She grabbed one and turned to the first door on her left. One breath, her hand was on the doorknob, the next, she shoved the door open to an empty room. She moved down two steps and repeated the process on the next door. Nobody. At the end of the hall were two doors. She opened the left first, and upon finding nothing, she faced the right.

Raising the stick more awkwardly than she liked, Kite steeled herself. If someone was in the house, they would be in that room. She put her hand on the knob and twisted.

It opened onto darkness, all remnants of the sun completely gone. Everything was still. Her eyes adjusted slightly, and she could see shadows of dressers, of the bed, the chair, the lamp that came towards her so rapidly that she didn't register it had moved.

Kite froze for a moment, wanting to scream, even silently, but she could not let herself, not when it wasn't real, this looming thing that stood right in front of her, imposing and impossible, reaching out with a luminescent point of color that looked yellow one moment and blue the next, mesmerizing...

Suddenly, Kite pulled herself back into motion and knocked the point of color away. There was an audible smack of skin on skin, and Kite thrilled in the fact that it had been impossible, that this was a person, and nothing else. He tried to leave, but Kite grabbed his slim wrist and swung him back into the room where he thunked on the floor with a very female, "Ouch."

Kite pointed her stick at the girl and reached for her flashlight. "Who are you?"

Just as she switched on the penlight, the girl knocked the stick out of Kite's hand with a painful kick. Kite dropped the light to grasp her stinging right hand, automatically thinking about how she would explain this to her mother, but she had no time to worry about that as the girl firmly hit the back of Kite's knees and caused Kite to fall backwards onto the bed.

Before she knew it, Kite was pinned there by the very stick she had used. The girl held the pinpoint of color above Kite's head.

"Don't mess with hoodlums if you're not one yourself, poser." The girl said. She had a lilting voice that would have otherwise been pleasant in another situation. "You oughta be taught a lesson for being out past your bedtime." The pinpoint of color wavered. Kite couldn't be sure if it was pointed or not.

"Listen," Kite blurted. "I thought you were someone else. I didn't mean to-"

"Startle a criminal? Too late, baby. You want my name? Why don't I trace it on your forehead?" She drove the pinpoint of color down.

~~~*~*``

And THAT is all I have. Woeeeee! But I'm glad I've written something. I haven't done creative stuff in a while. Me needs more discipline and practice!

Original: [MML] Searching for the light without knowing it

2006-10-08T06:57:41Z

Title: Searching for the light without knowing it
31 Days Theme: October 7th/A Light Called You
Series: Original
Characters: Audrey, Chandra, Dane
Rating: G
Notes: This written for the 31_days theme. Word count: 1028. I haven't done MML for ages. I miss it, in a frustrated sort of way. ^^

"We need to take a break. Regroup. Get some jackets." Audrey folded her arms tightly in front of her. The cold set in surprisingly fast after sunset.

Chandra tried to rub the goosebumps away. "If we're cold, how cold do you think she feels? She's just a little girl and I'm supposed to be taking care of her. I just- We just- we have to find her or no one else will. It's dark now, and frightening, and-"

"And there are evil little children hiding in the shadows, waiting for their next target."

"Yes, exactly-"

"No." Refusing to lose precious body heat by raising her hand, Audrey instead inclined her head in the direction of a park bench. Two children were playing on it as if it were daytime, their jackets the only sign that even they couldn't pretend the night air was warm. Yet even as they giggled and shrieked, they watched Audrey and Chandra out of the corner of their eyes. "There. Are. Evil. Little. Children. Waiting."

"Oh, not now, please not now." Chandra let her blond hair fall into her face, obscuring the children from her sight. "It's bad enough Lenora's missing, now we have to deal with them?"

Audrey firmly fixed her gaze past the children. "It's only two of them. Just don't look them in the eye. They shouldn't give us trouble."

They didn't, even when Audrey and Chandra crossed right in front of them with a carefree air. As soon as they passed, however, Chandra quickened her pace. Audrey followed suit. Being older and more importantly, bigger, they could easily handle two kids, but it was still risk they preferred not to take.

Chandra sighed and murmured, "I miss the times when we had parents who cared."

"I don't."

Chandra glanced at her friend. "But you want to break the spell, don't you?"

"I want to break it because it's right to. It's not because I want to."

"'Want'? Don't you 'want' to bring back Dane?"

Audrey didn't answer. Chandra continued, "I know you say you hate him, but you can't write him off that easily. Right...?" Chandra shook her head to clear the hair from her face and touched a hand to Audrey's shoulder. It was rigid. "Audrey?"

Audrey's hazel eyes looked dark in the moonlight. They were still fixed into the distance, as if she could not tear her gaze away. "What... what's that?" whispered Audrey.

Something in her voice made Chandra turn to look, her heart strangely starting to thud in her chest. Barely, barely, she could see a small figure at the edge of the shortcut to the school. The kids called it Woods but it was really just a dirt path crowded with tall trees. There were houses on either side, stout and ordinary, plainly visible from the path.

"It's glowing." Chandra replied. It was, almost. Though the figure was in the shadow of a tree, it seemed to repel the darkness from it, like a raincoat repelled water instead of absorbed it.

Chandra seized Audrey's upper arm and squeezed. "I think it's moving, Audrey. Audrey...?"

"Hmm?"

Before Chandra could repeat herself, someone pushed her towards the ground and pinned her there. She struggled to get up again, but the combination of two tiny bodies straddling her was too heavy to throw off.

Two other kids tackled Audrey down beside her. Audrey blinked up at them while they looked down on her, their lips smiling, their eyes hypnotic...

"Don't look at them!" Chandra warned, almost too late.

Audrey shut her eyes in reflex. "Four? There are four of you now?!"

"Five." said an older voice. Chandra snapped her head to the other side, careful to keep her eyes low. All she saw was his flared jeans and expensive sneakers that she knew very well.

Audrey was not so cautious. She fiercely met his eyes, eyes which matched her own. "Figures you'd trick us like that. They don't call you Dirty Dane for nothing."

Dane straightened his legs from its relaxed stance. "Figures you fell for it, ate [1]. Mama always said I was smarter."

Audrey tried to lunge up at him, almost toppling the two children sitting on her back. Dane laughed, but Chandra could sense it was forced.

"That's because you brainwashed her." Audrey said finally, her teeth gritted as she spoke.

"Aww, come on, ate. We both know she's better this way. Just like I know," he knelt and put a hand on Chandra who looked up automatically. Their eyes locked, and the hues inevitably snaked out towards her, all swirl and enchantment. "That you'll be better this way."

"Chandra, close your eyes. Chandra!" When Chandra did not, Audrey switched tactics. "Leave her alone, Dane, just leave her out of our business. Or are you as dirty as they say?"

But Dane did not react. He was surprised, much too surprised because the hues – they did not mesmerize Chandra. She too was surprised; more than that, she was shocked.

You... is it you... He didn't say it aloud, but Chandra could hear it nonetheless. She merely shook her head uncomprehendingly.

Then, there was light. It brightened as it drew closer with startling speed. The kids shielded their faces and threw themselves off Chandra and Audrey and into the darkness of the park as if running from an explosion.

Dane had a different reaction. Though he seemed blinded by the soft glow, he tried to look into it, at the source, but it seemed the more he tried, the more he had to squint.

Chandra herself had no difficulty. She gasped when she saw what it was- who it was...

Leave. It said to Dane. Obediently, Dane left, his sneakers slapping on the pavement as he ran.

When he was gone, the glow softened but did not dissipate. Chandra didn't care. She sprung up and flung her arms around the lit form. "Lenora, oh my Lenora, what's happened to you? Where did you go?"

Lenora's expression was void of its usual child-like gaiety. It was oddly adult. "To him." And then it too softened, as her glow had. She giggled and smiled up at Chandra. "To him."

--

Notes:
[1] ate - Term for "older sister". Pronounced AH-teh.

This snippet can be related to this short story.
There's also a short Dane sketch over here.

Thanks for reading (or not ;).

Random shard: I see him, sometimes, when I close my eyes.

2006-06-27T06:15:10Z

I see him, sometimes, when I close my eyes.

Random Shard: Defend yourself, my lady. I will not be gentle.

2006-06-20T21:02:40Z

Defend yourself, my lady. I will not be gentle.

--
I wonder if it would work better with a semicolon. I know I could use a comma if I said "for I will not be gentle" but I wasn't going for that sound.

Rambling over a single line. It's no wonder I hardly complete anything. ^^

By the by, many thanks to swollenfoot for the birthday gift - a subscription to Writer's Market! *glomps* One step at a time, ne?

[YYH] [Koenma/Ayame/Botan] A Flower for Every Ferrygirl

2006-03-21T06:18:53Z

Title: A Flower for Every Ferrygirl
31 Days Theme: March 20th/Eyes which are Really Petals
Series: YYH
Character: Koenma/Ayame/Botan
Rating: G
Notes: This written just for the 31_days theme. Word count: 264.

The garden is quiet in Reikai. Koenma is just as silent, his thoughts, for once, outpacing his mouth. The ferrygirl walking beside him doesn't seem to notice; she is enraptured. This is her first time making it to the center of the maze. She is breathless from all the twists and turns, and now she stands in awe of the multitude of flowers that grow and tangle like a quilt gone awry.

"There is one for every ferry girl that was and that is." Koenma explains when she doesn't ask. She kneels before a purple bed and murmurs in delight when the irises turn towards her attentively. He gazes at them. They are a wondrous sight, a ferry girl and her flower

Koenma starts when he feels something snuffling his ankle. Looking down, he sees a lone peony, frilly and friendly. He wonders, for a moment, how this peony would react to its ferry girl. They are alike: the color of its petals and her eyes.

The peony pulls away suddenly, and stands tall and straight. Koenma realizes that Ayame is coming towards him, irises in her hands, her black eyes calm like the surface of a deep pond. He knows it is time to ask her, just as he'd planned.

The peony stretches for the sky, its stem taut and quivering. Before Koenma can puzzle out what it wants, Ayame plucks it from where it stands and holds it out to him.

Slowly, he reaches out, but he doesn't know if it's for her hand or for the flower she holds in it.
--

Began: Tuesday, February 28, 2006, 7:59 PM
Finished: Tuesday, February 28, 2006, 9:17 PM

For those not familiar, Botan means "peony" while Ayame means "iris". Seems there's a trend for naming ferrygirls after flowers, thus the garden.

[YYH] The Lines are Drawn

2006-03-08T06:52:34Z

Title: The Lines are Drawn
31 Days Theme: March 7th/Hate blows a bubble of despair
Series: YYH
Character: Koenma/Botan
Rating: G
Notes: Writing because I need to get out of my rut. Written for 31_days. This short coming from an epic Koenma/Botan fanfic I haven't got around to writing. Rushed, unrevised, short.

As a ferry girl, Botan wished for a lot of things. Once upon a time, she wished for him. Now, she went to him, knowing that it would never be possible, but hoping, hoping that something could be salvaged.

The storm had let up a little, although it was still fierce - all wind and water that threw her off course and got in her eyes. Even with all her years of flying and fetching souls, getting through the tempest sprung from Koenma's rage took more skill than she thought she had.

The moment he caught sight of her, his aura flared an ice green that nearly blinded her. Instead of jumping off her oar, Botan slipped off the handle like she had as a fledgling flyer. This time, however, there was no prince to mock her into smiling. There was only this brooding ex-lord of Reikai, waiting and silent when he'd once been the opposite.

Botan gathered herself and stood despite the soaking heaviness of her kimono. She'd planned on telling him everything, but now that she was there, all she could mutter was, "It's cold."

"What does the cold matter to a traitor?" Koenma replied, words as sharp as the raindrops still splattering on her.

She shook her head and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. "I didn't know what King Enma was planning, I honestly didn't."

"No more lies." He said, and she fell silent at once. "I'm here because of you, aren't I?"

"I could never betray you-" Botan began to say.

Thunder boomed, and suddenly she was tipping on the balcony's edge, raindrops in her face, Koenma leaning over her, whispering as lightning flashed, "But you did, didn't you?"

The only answer she had was the pain in her heart.
--

OKAY, I seriously need to sleep now. @_@

Drabble for "Answered Summons": Attention, Please

2006-02-02T07:58:17Z

This is long overdue, like many of my projects.

Answered Summons
(this is why they call it a working title)
Drabble – Attention, please
For luckychan

Recalling the… incident earlier, Lucette balanced the tray carefully on one hand. Gabi grinned slyly while she served them drinks, as if he could hear her every thought.

She hesitated, terrified for a moment that he could see through her plan. It wasn't the most inventive, she admitted, and she wasn't as skilled as she should've been. After all, going up against Erkero's most lethal student was a mission attempted by many but accomplished by none. With her rudimentary skills learned from months – and not years – of lessons, it was foolish to think that she could fare any better.

But Crispin believed it, he who had taught her, who believed that she was the answer to his summoning. She went along with it to stay alive, but when she was alone, Lucette wondered if there had been an error somewhere in the casting. Crispin had called for the power to stop Gabi, but she had not even the strength to make Gabi pause.

Already, he was walking away, escorting his lady charge back towards the house. It irked Lucette how unfair it was that Gabi could rule her nightmares but she couldn't even sustain his glance. She scowled, forgetting for a moment that she was in the camp of the enemy.

It's not right, she thought, None of this is right.

The tray in Lucette's hands tipped over, glasses clinking together as they shifted and began their descent. Just as before, Gabi caught the tray easily with his impeccable reflexes. When he turned to mock her with another remark about carelessness, Lucette was in his in-step.

Finally, she would have his full attention.

She struck.

---
+

I wonder if the answer to why Lucette was summoned is obvious. Hmm. Guesses?

Does "Erkero" sound like anything to any of you? A word, a name, whatever. *paranoid*

Anyhow, luckychan told me that I could use any original, so I chose the one that involved a character dropping into another world. Not exactly an alternate reality (I seem to remember she likes that type), but as close as I could get. So, super-duper-whooper (whooper?) belated Merry Christmas, luckychan! ^_^;;;

This is my most recent concrete story idea, dating back to late last year. I'd say if I were to seriously pursue publishing a YA novel, "Answered Summons" would be my second choice because its plot is typical of manga. I guess that's why I like manga and anime so much – their storylines have a lot in common with mine, so much so that when I get a plot bunny, I discover later on that it's already been done. ^^;

On the Writing To Do list:

Finish romance short story (begun here) – "Constancy"

Brainstorm for YA novel (intro is to be rewritten) – "Truths Unseen"

Write the first chapter of Riven (yes, I still have yet to write it, despite having the entire plot already worked out. ARGH. Lazy me.)

I really must learn some discipline when it comes to writing. *is so very lazy*

Getting into the flow

2005-08-20T15:58:36Z

I live! I haven't been writing- really been writing in ages because of a project I needed to do in order to graduate. But now that my graduation is secure, my creative juices are starting to flow again.

I've been itching to "finish" off this Ragnarok fanfic for Alessa so I started there. I also owe someone a happy story, which has been incredibly hard for me to write because it's not my genre. Fantasy or fate captures my imagination, but not regular love stories. @.@ Anyway I reread my nth attempt the other night and have decided to continue it because the story is way past due. Eight months overdue, in fact.

The beginning goes like this:

The grey clouds were welcoming to Gabril, who looked up at their frothy greatness and watched as the skies yawned open with wind and thunder, and then, with rain. He had expected the downfall, his red umbrella already open above his head before the first drops hit the hot cement. He had a knack for predicting the inevitable. The day had been a humid one, and now, just as he had foreseen, it was furiously breezy. That was how his life worked, wasn't it? In a play of opposites.

He and Vina had always spoken in opposites: sharp, pointed words that only the other could decipher. In the eyes of the world, they were enemies but in the eyes of each other, they were friends.

Note: Those are "working" names for the characters. I'll replace them with the real names when I'm through. No, the story isn't about them being enemies. I just thought the line was cool. Yes, the story is fragmented and has no unifying theme. Yes, I don't care anymoooore.

I'm going to try to keep the story as short as I possibly can. I don't want to get bogged down with details. I just need to figure out this big gaping plot hole in which the two actually get together.

Hmm. I think I just thought of something. Cliche here we come! Will post when I finish it. Which will be ages from now.

In other topics, I'm thinking of adding fangirling about manga/anime to the theme of this blog. I know I read Shoujo Magic manga more often than I finish writing pieces, so...

Random Shard: Decide not to care

2005-03-28T17:31:38Z

If you can't please them all, then it's time to decide not to care.

Random Shard: Day dreaming

2005-03-24T15:21:05Z

Head in the clouds, toes in the air, I'm day dreaming... maybe I'll dream until forever.

Random Shard: Do you know when to stop?

2005-03-03T16:14:40Z

Enough is enough.
Do you know when to stop?

Fanfic: In the Name of - Part 1 (Alessa Talance)

2005-02-09T19:05:04Z

Ragnarok fanfic again, but first I brood about Alessa Talance, another of my characters. I used to play her in game, but my love and attention has passed onto my fighter, Alena Sunlace. Anyway.

Alessa Talance, who are you? I don’t know you anymore. In fact, sometimes I abhor you, you bland little goody-goody! Sometimes I’m tempted to give your character up and have nothing more to do with you. I’d like nothing better than to leave your background as it is and ROT for all I care. Believe me, I was going to.

But no, I can’t abandon you as my fictional character. I cannot accept that defeat, of you no longer being mine. I shouldn’t give you up. I can’t give you up. I won’t give you up. Even if I hate you, I still care about you and I can’t help it. So, like a mother taking back a failure of a child, I’ll take you back and I’ll see what I can do to fix you, given certain limitations. They say that the opposite of love is, in fact, indifference. So in order for me to love you again, my child, I have to pay attention to you.

And now that I think about it, I know you, Alessa Talance. I know you better now than I’ve ever known you before. I know how immensely different you and I are, just as I know how Alena Sunlace and I differ. Of course, as with all my characters - from Alynne to Brok, from Tyrone to Wallace - there will be places we overlap, but make no mistake that you are yourself and no one else.

I’ve known about your background since last year, planned it, changed it, but I haven’t taken the time to write it out in detail. It’s been sitting in the back of my mind, churning and settling, until finally it has solidified into something somewhat stable, like liquid jello left to set and jigglify.

Now that I remember your story, we can commence-

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

In the Name of: Part 1
Begun February 09, 2005, 231am
Finished February 10, 2005, 12am

As with all thieves, they came cloaked in the night, when the moon was a sliver in the sky and the gray, flowing clouds hung low. No one in the Talance caravan had an inkling of the danger, except maybe the young acolyte peeping through the back door. She’d been having that feeling again, a feeling of a change in the sand, much like one would feel a change in the wind. If the Talances could afford a bodyguard, he would have already told her to shut the door so they could defend their caravan; the less possibilities for entrance into their store of goods, the better.

But the Talances were poor, barely surviving on a slim profit margin that allowed them to travel from city to city to peddle their cheap items. Being good and decent God-fearing people, they did not believe in making ungodly profits. So they lived a simple life, having only the necessities of food, shelter and water. They did not believe they were significant enough to be a target of robbers, and if they were, then their God would watch over them and protect them. Their faith held fast for so many years, and in that many years, they never came to any harm.

Well, not until that night, that is.

Bad things happen to good people, and that is exactly what happened to the Talances, a family consisting of a brother and his family, and sister and her child. The brother, Ethan, was the first to fall victim, he being vulnerable in the front as he steered the pecopecos. The attackers knocked Ethan from his seat, and he nearly fell into the still-turning wheels of the caravan. The animals were pulled to a halt unharmed; they would be taken as additional transport for an ever-growing fleet.

Ethan’s wife, Malka was next when she came screaming from the depths of the caravan, her cross-shaped earrings glittering a red-silver in the firelight before she too was struck down.

“Please,” Malka cried, weakened and crawling towards her husband. He was lying very still, his face covered by his ebony hair as nearly half his upper torso hung precariously on the edge of the platform. “You’ve hurt my husband when you didn’t have to. Please, in the name of my Lord, we won’t fight. Take anything, but don’t harm us.”

The closest of the shadows laughed, but let her be. Suddenly, there was firelight everywhere from the torches that the thieves carried. There were many of them, swarming in silent as black ants, and taking from the caravan the things they needed, the things they wanted. The pecopecos were led away and the goods spilled out on the cool sand, then packed.

Meanwhile, inside, the two children were huddling with the last adult, Erin. She enveloped them in her robes, Ethan’s child Daniel, and her own child, Alessa. The thieves had largely ignored them as they carried off most of the goods, but as the last of them left, a female thief wearing a striped bandana around her head came closer and roughly pulled Erin away. That was all right with Erin, as long as the children stayed back and weren’t hurt-

But no, hands were swiftly taking up Daniel and Alessa and they were being carried away over shoulders, just like the rest of the stolen goods. Daniel was eleven years old and young, so he cried and screamed and was helpless. Alessa was newly fourteen, so she bit and kicked and was savage.

“Quiet, grass-haired one.” A commanding voice said to her. “You must come quietly for no harm to be dealt.”

“No, give us our children back!” Erin shouted instead, dodging the thief and lunging out of the back of the caravan, whose heavyset doors had been wrenched off at broken angles. The muffler around her head lent her speed, but what was such agility to those born with swiftness?

Invisible forces hit her, first on one shoulder, then on a leg, more missing and ripping through the billowing cloth. She was virtually stopped in mid-flight, as if she had hit a net of air and that net was spiked with shards of transparent glass. Her legs bowed and she toppled to the sand, her short ebony hair sticking out from under her falling muffler. She pulled off the garment, and stood again.

“Peace.” Said the voice again, this time from another direction. He moved as fast as the rest of his band, possibly even faster. Possibly an assassin. “Peace or we will harm you. Such a gentle soul as yours - do you want to die in futility?”

Erin’s voice was indeed marked by gentleness, but that did not mean she would simply give up. Her words cut through the air as sharply as her straight hair cut against her jaw. “It is not futility when it is for our loved ones. Please, I beg of you in the name of my Lord, please free our children.”

“Your Lord reigns not over our people. Nay, he may not even reign over you. Look how he has left you to us and our Master.” There was no malicious laughter, only silence and watchful eyes, all looking towards this woman who stooped now a little, affected by wounds that must be bleeding, wounds that soaked her robes all the more in red.

“Sir, I most humbly disagree, for my Lord never leaves me.” Erin said steadily, her fingers clutching at the rosary wound around her wrist. “But for the sake of our children, I will plead with you in your god’s name, to spare them.”

“Ah, such a thing to do, to reach out to your enemy through their god. But our god is vengeful and he seeks retribution. He takes what he needs, and he needs these children more than your Lord ever will. In the name of him, we take them.”

Erin shook her head, outraged but weak. “Who is this god who would so recklessly take lives that are not his?”

A reverent chant rose up in answer. “He who seeks life, whose life we shall restore. Our mighty avenger, the God Osiris!”

Her dark eyes grew round and frightened in understanding. “No.” She said, trembling. “No. Our children will never serve him.” And now directly to Alessa and Daniel, who were likewise watching her, frozen like terrified mice. “You must NEVER serve-“ Before she was finished, a dagger flew. Erin raised her hand to block it, and the blade glanced hard off her rosary, breaking it, cutting her. The wooden beads flew and rolled. The children cried out and were promptly smothered.

“Peace.” Said the assassin again, visible now, perched on top of the ruined Talance caravan. “We leave now in silence and we leave you alive.” There was movement in the darkness as his command was obeyed. At least two dozen thieves mounted or began to walk without looking back, even when Erin rose again, blood openly dripping down her hand and onto the dagger she was gripping. She turned and looked up at the form of the assassin, who faded out of sight as the clouds rolled over the sky.

“Fight no more, or you will die for nothing but foolishness.” His voice still came from the same spot.

Erin’s eyes never strayed from the caravan. “I know your cult’s vile rules. If I kill you, my children may return to me.” Then she, Erin of the kindest heart and gentlest spirit, raised the dripping dagger and aimed. She whispered prayers as she threw, blessing it with her blood, imbuing it with powerful truth, and she knew her aim was true by the way it hummed. It spiraled not towards the caravan where the assassin had last spoken, but to the right, and a little backwards. There was an audible gasp, a guttural cough, and Erin thought she had done it.

Then Alessa screamed a high-pitched scream of pure terror. Erin felt his presence a half-second later, bearing down on her. She saw his merciless eyes through his phantom mask. The mask’s whiteness itself was dotted with red specks, and she was sure she saw him pulling the dagger out from the right side of his chest before he swung it down towards her in countless arcs, piercing her like pins. It was quick, so quick that she didn’t feel the pain until it was over and the blood was ebbing out of her, staining the sand under her a dark black in the clouded night.

“Foolish.” The assassin said. Erin cried, and he brushed his bloody fingers against her cheeks to collect her tears, then against her wrist for her blood, and his chest for his own, draining it all into an iron vial which he covered with a finger and shook. Some sick cult peculiarity, she thought, turning away at the perverseness. The assassin turned her face back with irresistible precision and dribbled the concoction onto her lips, into her mouth, down her throat. She gagged, tried to cough it out, but it was no good, she had swallowed some and now she was fading…

More blood was dripping on her face, Erin felt dimly, until she became aware of another form bending over her and crying - it was tears, not blood - a young girl with hair the color of fresh meadows. It was Alessa, who never cried just as Erin never killed. By some miracle of God, the acolyte had broken free and was trying to use her ever so feeble abilities to heal Erin. But she was so young, and so inexperienced, and the anger shone in her eyes when Alessa herself realized it.

Erin said to her in a faltering breath, “Patience…”

And then all Erin’s eyes could see was night, and all she could breathe was night, and she became like the night, subtle and dark.
-------------

Notes:

A muffler is actually scarf you wear around your neck. In the RO world, it is classified as a “robe”.

Other things in this fic may deviate from game elements as well, so if you Ragnarok players see deviations do point it out so I can make a note about it here. I’ll be writing more Alessa’s series soon, although after the next part, the style may become pure narrative again just so I can go through the important events quickly. Until then~

Random Shard: They say I don't exist...

2005-02-06T07:20:48Z

They say I don't exist. I'll find you just to prove them wrong!

Poem: A season too early

2004-12-26T13:40:23Z

A Season Too Early

It was a season too early
That's when you came
Striding in with the Spring
Picking flowers before they've bloomed
Fragile blossoms still breaking under the rain
Yielding to water but not to fate

You left before the sweat of summer
Much too early to see the dawn
Only the fading twilight
The silent, silver moon above
Whispering such tragic things
As trodden gifts and love
Because

It was a season too early
That’s when you came
A season too early
To hear my call

And now you’re back but darling,
Now it's much too late
The trees are weeping as we
Are covered in the soot of dusk
Black and red, shadows and leaves
And oh, how I’ve had to wait
For this very Fall
It’s been too long

Why did it have to be
A season too early
For you to come
A season too late
For your return

I can’t tell you the answers
With the same wintry words
Nor turn you away
When you’ve never grown cold
You came too early
You came too late
The seasons are ended
Our season is gone.

~ nananaginip

Inspired by and dedicated to Someone who won't see this for quite a while. ^.^

Short Fanficlet: [RO] Alena – The Girl who Loved to Love

2004-11-05T06:22:35Z

Oh, I forgot to post this rushed short story which explains my last entry. It's a different context, this time. ^_^ It might be a fanfic, but you don't need to know the game to understand the story. Enjoy~

The Girl Who Loved To Love
A Ragnarok Fanficlet

Alena was a girl who loved to love. In fact, she fell in love so often that she could hardly keep herself from keeping just one boyfriend at a time. Her relationships were fast and furious, sparked into beginning and dying out as quickly as a flaming piece of fluff. It was the only way she would have it: out-of-breath and passionate. She couldn't stand to wait for the careful ways of the mundane.

She went through boyfriends quickly, to the shock of the various villages she trained at, and she believed that she loved each one up until the point her heart calmed. That was when it was time to move on: when her soul ceased to tremble. Alena had tried to explain this a few times to the ones who would try to keep her:

"What is love to me when it doesn't move me?"

No one ever had an adequate answer to that.

Some people gossiped about how she was a heartless man-eater because of how fast she disposed of her boyfriends. They said that to be involved with Alena would be to lose your soul to her. It was funny; she came off sounding so magically wicked that she would attract even more fellows than before. It was especially amusing because, in truth, she would never consider someone whose soul was weak enough to be taken.

"But why?" A wide-eyed merchant had asked her, still on his knees in a whole-hearted expression of his feelings. "You take nothing from me. I'm the one who gives to you."

Alena removed the wreath of flowers from her hair and knelt in front of him. Putting the sweet-smelling crown into his reluctant hands, she answered, "I love it, but I won't destroy you for it."

Those she did date were dynamic and strong enough to stand their own against her. She remembered the connections she'd felt, how she believed with each man that the feathery bliss they had together would last. When it didn't, Alena simply shrugged and moved readily on, always parting on such good terms with ex-boyfriends that they constantly sought to help her in hopes of winning her back.

Of course, no one could win her back. After all, she had never loved them in the first place.

"Oh, but I did love them." Alena protested when she was told otherwise by a childhood friend, Alynne. It was rare they saw each other in their teenage years, but when they did get together, there was always much stories and insights to share.

"No, you didn't." Alynne stated frankly while she produced various headgear for Alena to try on. "You're mistaking infatuation for love. It's like mixing up a rocker with a metaller – they look the same, but they aren't. One is fast but weak. The other is slower but considerably more powerful."

"Mmm," Alena murmured vaguely as she picked through the items in Alynne's cart.

Alynne shook her head in resignation, but couldn't resist one last word: "Sooner or later, your heart will learn to tell the two apart, just as your eyes did."

She was right, as Alynne was always right in the end. Alena did eventually learn the difference between tepid infatuation and sincere love. Dating so many men, it was only a matter of probability that she would find one she would not tire of. Someone she, in all honesty, would care for above herself.

How fitting it was that this one time she truly loved someone, she couldn't keep him. Alena hadn't suspected at first, thinking of Jacob as just another magician worth befriending. After their first few chats in the shady afternoon, it soon became her habit to seek him out, he being one of those oddities that wasn't easily accessible, like all the others had been. But Alena hadn't cared about that. She hadn't even cared about what it looked like to others, how she was reeling in yet another poor lad to be fried in the fire and eaten.

Those rumors were wrong. It was she who was being consumed.

"There were many I loved before you," Alena murmured to Jacob once as he drifted to sleep on the grass beside her. "But you are the first I love."

Jacob hadn't heard her confession, of course, but the copper-topped mage obviously felt the same. She'd learned the truth that way; Jacob couldn't love her and deceive her at the same time.

"I've lived for only my family for so long," The mage had begun while they sat with their backs to their usual tree, late in the dimming afternoon. "That I didn't think it was possible for my life to be otherwise. When I was a child, I knew I had no future and so I traded it for one in which I could help my family rise."

Alena had nodded, knowing well his overriding responsibilities that she couldn't relate to, yet could recognize as being the very essence of him.

"You think you know this, but there is a part I haven't told you." He said. She nodded again, patiently, although privately, Alena could care less about what he hadn't told her. Jacob could keep secrets or reveal skeletons; in either case she would not waver in what she felt, she was certain. After their conversation that night, he wouldn't be certain of her at all.

"There is a part I haven't told you: that I meant it literally when I said I traded my future for another. My family didn't have the money to support me in my studies of the magical arts, but they sent me nevertheless. The debt would've caught up with us, of course, but I was their hope and they gave me everything they could. I couldn't disappoint them."

His tone grew stronger when it should have grown softer, and that was how Alena sensed that there was something amiss. "I had a friend during those times, a daughter of a higher middle-class family. At the time, I thought I loved her enough to marry her, and it was arranged so that her family would provide to make me into a man who could take care of her. Her family loved me, you see, and when I promised them, they knew I would keep my word."

Alena understood what was meant instantly. She leaned away from him and took her hand out of his hair to twist at her own. The hair adornments she wore clinked against each other, like wind chimes.

"You must keep your word, of course." she said calmly, as a friend would to another.

"I must, but I cannot. I will not." Jacob reached and gently grasped her forearms with his thin fingers. Somehow, it was more intimate than holding her hand. "I didn't know what I was giving up, Alena. I can make it up to them some other way, to my family and her family who both depend on me, but I cannot make it up to myself. Or to you."

"What is it you're saying?" She knew it already, and she wanted nothing more than to take him up in selfish joy and kiss him. Her arms strained even then, but she couldn't lift them; she could only pull them from him so her hands were safely in her lap again.

"I'm saying that I sacrificed my life for my family, but I've found something so valuable that I could sacrifice even them for it." His blue eyes, dark as the evening falling upon them, focused into the distance where the sun had set. "It's not who I am, I know, to leave my duties unfinished. But Alena, you know that I would do no such thing if I didn't truly mean it. You must believe me when I say that I love you."

Alena believed him - yes, she could not doubt now what she knew to be truth - but said what she should have said to every other man but him: "What do I care if you love me, when I don't love you?"

He blinked, paused, paled in the sooty dusk. "You can't mean that-"

Alena didn't - she didn't! - but she could not call up the sweet platitudes she'd used dozens of times before, nor the gentle manner she was known for. She could speak no other words than, "Surely you've heard the rumors about me? That I love no one? That I use men? Don't tell me you didn't believe it?"

"I- I heard," He was at a loss, she saw, breaking just around the edges where it wasn't visible. "But I didn't- would never believe- I know you do love-"

Though she wanted to apologize, to cry even from the tendrils of pain lacing through her, she laughed instead. It was a gentle, twinkling laugh, hinting at genuine amusement. "I'm sorry." She said, smiling now with her lips, with her eyes. "But you're such an innocent."

He was wounded but he stood, wiry frame erect and steady, and gaped at her through his glasses. He took them off and polished them on his cream-colored robe, put them back on, looked at her again.

"I may be innocent, Alena, but I can perceive more than you think."

And maybe he could, but Alena would never admit it. She discarded him, like all the others, and took on another boyfriend when it looked like he wouldn't move on because she hadn't. It was simple to keep Jacob away then, because once he was no longer hers, he was outside the shields of her influence and alone among those who adored her but had envied him.

Two weeks later, a few days before her unit was to be dispatched to a new territory, she came upon Jacob again. She had been walking arm-in-arm with her second boyfriend since their break-up, when they were interrupted by a loud scuffle behind them. Being directed as a swordswoman to keep the peace in local areas, Alena unsheathed her haedonggum and doubled-back to scare away the two hoodlums accosting a civilian. They ran and her boyfriend went after them. She was about to follow when she caught a glimpse of soft yellow under the civilian's cloak. A mage. Jacob.

He was bruised, his fair skin mottled with ugly, purple blotches. The mage uniform he wore was dirtied with mud and what looked like fresh footprints. Already, the signs of exhaustion were showing on his small face, deadening his eyes with weariness. His glasses were no where in sight, most likely lost or shattered.

"What's happened to you?" Alena couldn't help but ask in her shock.

"So you've decided not to ignore me." Jacob said tiredly. "Your boys won't ignore me either."

"They would leave you alone if you would go back to the academy."

"I can do no such thing. My family will find me, they'll bring me back. I won't go until I've talked to you again."

Alena lifted her chin so she could pointedly look down on him. "You've talked to me. You can move on now."

Jacob wasn't intimidated into standing. He stayed exactly where he was in the middle of the sidewalk, in that same cross-legged position he'd taken after being rescued. "This isn't what I call talking."

"There isn't anything more to talk about. What I told you before still stands. Nothing has changed since then, except that now you're hiding from the people who depend on you, all for a foolish illusion."

She walked to him and pulled the boy roughly to his feet. Stepping back, she looked him over so critically that he was sure to be self-conscious. Her eyes darted from his mussed copper-red hair, to the symbol of his discolored mages' uniform, to his spell book that lay in tatters on the ground, next to his fragmented staff. Alena flipped the neglected book up with the blade of her haedonggum, caught it, and then thrust the enchanted object into Jacob's hands, where it glowed faintly.

There was a small leaf on his shoulder. Alena stepped closer to brush it away, speaking in a quietly gentle tone as she did, "And this is what you've become:"

Alena left Jacob dazed in his downward spiral. As soon as she got to a Kafra lady, she sent off a private message to his family, informing them of his location and "illness". Afterwards, she didn't run across him again. She heard from her contacts, who continued to send messages to her as she moved from station to station, that he had returned to his studies. He made fast progress with his display of exemplary talent and graduated early to become a mystical sage. Alena had cried the day she heard the news; in happiness or sadness, she didn’t know.

But she was a girl who loved to love. She was never one to regret. Maybe she was less idealistic about the men she dated now, but that made it no less fun, no less useful. And if some asked about that delicate, gold-coated leaf she wore among the trinkets in her hair, she would simply tuck it back into obscurity and claim she paid a high price for it: a piece of her heart and the last bits of her honor.

End.

---

Author's Notes:

Well, this ficlet took me a while to finish, as all things I write take a while to do. Which is why I don't write much. ^^; I know it could stand an overhaul in terms of narration and sequencing, but it says what I want it to about Alena's love life and I'm tired of trying to fix it. Alena, by the way, is a game character I play on a popular online game here in the Philippines, Ragnarok. My story, though, hardly hints at Ragnarok because, uhm, I'm not good at using game elements in stories, ^^;

I know I left the story kind of open to interpretation about Alena's motives. Do share your thoughts, I'm really interested. It's fun!

NaNoWriMo! And I have written not a thing! I decided to do Riven, my YYH fanfic, as my "novel" for this month but alas, I haven't got the discipline yet. I'm more worried right now about my papers due in three days. Eek! Speaking of which, I go now...

Random Shard: Do you want me to lie to you?

2004-10-07T17:04:14Z

Do you want me to lie to you? To tell you half truths that will not wound?

Original: Familiar Waters

2004-09-27T16:49:43Z

When I look back at my total entries here and the time I've had this account I see that there hasn't been much at all. That's how writing is for me, a hobby I keep on the side. But it's a fun hobby, don't get me wrong. I love it especially when an image so strong that it's like a vision gets a hold of me and the only way to purge myself of it is to write mentally by thinking it out or to actually write it. The most satisfying method, of course, is to make it into digital reality. I've had lots of "visions" but I rarely get around to writing them.

Some examples are:

Riven, an epic YYH fanfic springing from a what-if scenario – what if Koenma and Botan were enemies? And yeah, a lot does have to happen to make it happen.

MML, a wish-fulfillment story I made in fifth grade about a girl (good) and a boy (evil), but of course now it isn't quite that simple anymore.

Truths Unseen, where tweaked Philippine supernatural creatures are invisible but real, and a girl who can see them is out to prove they don't exist.

Haunted, an abandoned Harry Potter fanfic that hints at the twisted memories of Tom/Ginny but stays in the present of Draco/Ginny.

An Irresistible Wish, originally inspired by having a wish come to life, but became driven by an ethereal little boy who literally came out of no where. (I mean, really, he came out of no where when I started it.)

Drawn into Binding, where another girl who doesn't believe in anything otherworldly, God or otherwise, becomes haunted by a spirit, and for a single lightning fast moment has faith enough to pray for help. And gets it.

Tagabantay, a story in English but placed in a Philippine setting, where a little girl meets her soul mate but he turns out to be something other than human.

Most of these are really just a scene or two long, but have a whole story that goes with it that I just never got around to filling in. If you noticed, the theme is along fantasy and occult. I like that stuff that gets my imagination going.

This is the latest such idea I had to get out of my head. It involves the random shard I posted in my last entry which is the heart of the idea but this time with the rushed little background that goes with it. This kind of stuff is uncharacteristic of me, as many will agree, so bear with it.

--

Familiar Waters
by A. Panaginip

They sat at the edge where the river flowed by, bubbling around their knees. The underground cavern was luminous with mysterious lights, the water reflecting it in wavering hues upon the walls.

"This is where we used to hide from your brothers, isn't it?" Raymond noted, looking up at the dim ceiling, the swirling patterns of blue and green.

Shaina was quiet, knowing he was avoiding the issue. But she pushed on anyway, because her heart was full to bursting and Gillian had told her that when it got that way, it was time to empty it or be overwhelmed when it overflowed.

"Raymond, this isn't just our hideout." Shaina splashed the water under her, spraying them both with dozens of tiny droplets that glittered in their hair like the gems in the floor they sat on. "These waters, when I look at them, they reflect memories. Not just of the first time we met. I see the times you've shouldered me, the soft words you said to me, the help you've never failed to give me. I remember how I broke down here and how you didn't ignore it, but tried to fix it. This place is sacred to me because of that. Because of you. Do you understand?"

Raymond said nothing. Shaina looked down again into the water where there were yellow striped fish swimming safely along the bottom. She had never seen it so clearly before.

"Of course you understand." She answered for him. "You've seen who I am, all the pointy, dark places, all the crumbling, soft ones. So you must know why we're here now, why I'm telling you about these intimate things and breaking the pact we both keep but never made in the first place."

Raymond still wouldn't look at her. Instead, he was fiddling with something on the ground, distracting himself from this uncomfortable position she'd put him in. But she didn't stop herself. She stopped him.

When she placed her hand on his, he slowly ceased his fidgeting. Even if he would not look at her, Shaina continued, "Is it really so forbidden for me to fall in love with you?"

Raymond sighed at that. Shaina let her hand fall as her heart fell. He caught it as it did - her hand, not her heart - put something in her palm, and closed her fingers over it. Then he said,

"When I look at these waters, I don't see the things you see. In my eyes, it's still a part of the sea." He pointed at the fish, skirting dangerously close to the shadows. "They swim so easily down there that sometimes I'm tempted to dive in for the sake of it. But you know me too, Shaina. I'm not reckless. Even if I can't see it, I know that somewhere down there in those shadowy nooks there are octopuses that will grab me and wrap me with their rubbery tentacles. Or an undertow will catch me and pull me under where no one goes and where no one may ever come again. That's why I'm cautious, Shaina. There are threats even when everything to the eye seems perfectly right."

Raymond finally looked at her, speaking the truth with his words and his eyes.

"I won't let myself fall into a sea, no matter how beautiful, when it will drown me."

Shaina felt he wasn't referring only to the sea.

"There are many dangers in my life." He said. "You've seen them. You've even saved me once. There is hate and blood and violence. That is what I face every day because that's the life my kind live. And I'm not willing to give it up or have it complicated by a girl who has no idea of what traps she skips right into. You don't know the strain you've put on me those times I came to help you, nor the risk you put us both in by showing my enemies that I have a weakness."

Weakness, she thought with a mix of hope and wist. And then a sliver of understanding.

Aloud, she said, "But you have no weaknesses."

He was silent, and in that hesitation she held his gaze and waited without breath.

"No," He said at last, without looking away. "I don't. I won't."

Raymond let go of her hand then because it had begun to tremble. He was full of regret, she knew, but it was nothing compared to the regret she felt now for hoping even when she'd known it would be like this.

"I'm sorry, Shaina." Raymond meant it, and it hurt her more that he meant it because then she couldn't hate him with all she had. "You may not be forbidden but I ask you to just... not care about me. For my sake."

"For your sake." Shaina repeated dully, feeling blissfully numb for a second before the pain made her wince, her face wrinkle and her throat ache. She opened her hand and in it lay the star trinket she'd given him. It was dark on one side, stained with blood. She'd gripped it so tightly and hadn't noticed it had pierced her skin. As Raymond had pierced her.

Shaina laughed a high laugh and dipped her hands into the water to wash away the blood.

"You're wrong." She said. "This can't be the sea because we're under it." Her voice was husky and she struggled not to let it break. "These waters are the tears I've shed only in your presence because you're the only one who can make me cry."

Shaina put her face into her hands then, feeling cold and damp from the splash of water. Raymond stayed by her side, head bowed though his own eyes were dry. When she was finished, Shaina stood up and threw him into the river with such suddenness he could not react. She laughed and he laughed, and she pulled him up, his clothes sopping wet, hugged him and then let him go in every way she knew how.

End.

---

Don't you make that face at me. -_-

Random Shard: I won't let myself fall...

2004-09-25T17:48:51Z

I won't let myself fall into a sea, no matter how beautiful, when it will drown me.

Random Shard: Stepped Away

2004-06-18T12:14:48Z

I stepped away to keep us the same.

Fandom: YYH - Riven (K/B) - Chapter 1, Part 2b

2004-05-11T19:32:14Z

Well, it's about time to do Riven, isn't it? Riven being that YYH Koenma + Botan fanfic I never wrote. I remember conceptualizing it in 2001. It's 2004. Um. Maybe I should start writing it down, yes?

After posting the beginning of the 2nd part of the first chapter, this is the rest of it. Just wrote this draft yesterday afternoon:

Riven Chapter One, Part 2b
In the Garden

Reikai was rarely touched by darkness. It was always full of the crystal clear light that poured endlessly from an invisible sun or equally bright moon. That was the world of spirits. A world of light. It was only during times of great internal turmoil when the shadows did fall and the clouds of rain gathered in Reikai.

So why was there no sign of a storm?

“Lord Koenma!”

The prince was startled to see the blue-haired ferry girl coming up from behind him. Her oar was just dissipating from her hand, melting away with an almost inaudible whoosh.

“Botan? Why have you come?”

She bowed respectfully upon reaching him before she made a reply. “George said you were here and I had to remind you about the gathering at Keiko’s house.”

Koenma didn’t conceal his confusion. “Gathering?”

Botan looked as if she couldn’t quite believe him. “You couldn’t have forgotten.”

He shrugged.

“I informed you about it last week! Yuusuke even stopped by your office to invite you.”

“I’m afraid I’ve been concerned with more important things, Botan. But do send my regards for me.” Feeling he had done all that was necessary and wanting to retreat back into reflection, Koenma turned back to return to his office. That is, he tried to before Botan grabbed his collar. Clearly, she was exasperated.

“You promised, Lord Koenma, to Yuusuke himself! We must to go, even for just a few minutes, to give our congratulations on Keiko’s pregnancy.”

Koenma stared at her and Botan stared fearlessly back, unmindful of the fact she was still holding him in a rather disrespectful manner and that she could be imprisoned for it.

Of course, Koenma could never do that to her. Botan knew that. And Botan could so be irritatingly persistent, which was effective in wearing down even stubbornness such as his. Koenma knew that.

So he sighed in resignation and said, “All right. Then we shall go. But just for a few minutes.”

Botan beamed at him, swinging him around in delight. “Excellent, Lord Koenma! Oh, but did I say a few minutes? I meant we would have to stay for supper. It would be impolite to leave any sooner...“ She paused momentarily, seeming to absorb his mood. “Are you all right? If you’re sick, then that’s another matter, of course-“

Koenma cut in before she had a chance to get worked up in her concern. “No, I’m not sick.”

Botan blinked at him, but when he didn’t go on, she simply smiled and said, “That’s excellent. So we can still go and you can take your mind off whatever is bothering you.”

“I’m sorry, Botan. It’s just too personal a matter for me to tell anyone about.”

Her expression was unwavering. “It’s perfectly fine, Lord Koenma. I understand.”

Do you? Koenma felt lighter just looking at her undemanding smile. Maybe if he told her...

“I can’t tell you.”

Botan nodded ever so patiently. “I know.”

They stopped by one of the fountains. It was a small, simple structure, its white pillar coming up to the chest, and water cascading down it into a little basin where one would customarily dip a cup. Koenma dipped his hands instead and let the water pool into them. It was clear and highly reflective. He could see the sky in it. Maybe it would taste like air if he drank it.

"It doesn't taste like anything." Botan told him. "I remember."

"How would you remember that, if it makes you forget?" Koenma replied logically, then splashed his face. The water was neither warm nor cold, but something like liquid wind.

She laughed. "That's true."

For some reason, he almost told Botan then. She had an unconscious way of making him feel that way, as if anything he told her would be magically lifted from him, dusted, polished and made all better. And often he gave into it, talking sometimes with her for hours into the night. But he couldn't now. Not about something as sensitive as this.

At one time in his life, Koenma would have told her. He could have told her anything then. But that was ages ago, before Yusuke, before Sensui, before even the Reikai Tantei. It was a time when he still believed in noble things like justice, like love.

Then he had grown up, contrary to the child-form he wore at the moment. What could Botan do, really? Listen? Tell him everything would turn out all right? Share his burden in the knowledge? No. Koenma needed no such shallow comforting. He was strong enough to face it all himself.

Koenma straightened, taking a good look at the fountain. The shape was of a weeping woman. A fountain to forget sorrow. Ahead there were more fountains, each differing in shape according to its purpose. None, of course, would suit Koenma. After all, the very essence of his nature was his sense of justice. To forget that would be to destroy who he was.

He felt something soft on his face. It was Botan, wiping his cheek of stray droplets with a pink handkerchief. Such gentleness she was capable of, when all she ever was with him lately was rough.

Botan saw him looking at her, smiled, then promptly took hold of his red sash and began to march away, pulling the floating Koenma after her in the most careless of ways.

“I think you should prepare now.” Botan suggested, glancing back at him. "It's almost time."

“No,” Koenma pulled out of her grasp. “I don’t want to go through the Palace."

"But that's the shortcut."

"I want to take the long way back.”

"Lord Koenma, honestly, we will be late if we do that. Unless there's a reason...?"

Koenma pressed the pacifier between his lips just so, and in a flash he was in his ningen form, clothes already neatly pressed, and the sash now around his forehead rather than his waist. "See? I'm ready. Plenty more time for me to put someone in charge while we're away. Come, let's walk." He offered his arm to her when she hesitated. "Please?"

She took his arm after moments more of deliberation, and then beamed, obviously delighted by the quaintness of the action. "As you wish, my lord."

They walked back to the Gates together.

Ruin this story or not, but I have to get it out before it completely disappears into the past. I reread my notes and ramblings about Riven, and it was pleasant to see it all again. I may not write it quite as well as I envision it, but that's something I have to face. All I can do is try.

Thanks to those who replied to my last post about Filipino-Americans. I'll answer your comments soon. I'm glad for the input. Finally got a "bright" POV! We're all generally negative about countries we weren't born in or didn't grow up in.

Now I need to read some short stories to get an idea of how to go about it. My friend lent me "Catch me a firefly" by Freda Jayme, which is a collection of short stories. I have to note that it's different from how I write. Much shorter, a lot more condensed. Gah, that'll be my problem I think: condensing it to something bite-size.

At the moment, my epic Riven first while I let ideas stew for the short story.

Ramble: Getting Together

2004-04-30T13:24:53Z

I haven't been writing the things I should be writing. Riven, for one, that Koenma/Botan epic I'm supposed to finish this summer. Then there are the many little fragments of inspiration I still can't make whole. I just don't know how to make the words come like they're supposed to. I'd force it, but when I force it, the style just comes out wrong. Or maybe my style has changed. I don't know.

There is one concept I'd like to develop, though. I've been meaning to write it for years, but the will to do it has just come now. It was supposed to be one short story initially, but after brainstorming, I know it's going to be at least two stories, about two different Filipino-American's coming "home". They will not be inspirational or fun or anything of the sort. I'd actually prefer them to be somewhat unsettling. One girl looking through the dark shades of alienation, the other through rose-colored glasses. The first made of loneliness, the second of confident superiority. And of course, I want to put in the "small differences", those things in daily life you take for granted, that is until you're plopped into a different culture.

Which reminds me, I must talk to more Filipino-Americans who've been to the Philippines. Even those native Filipinos who've gone to the States – what are the differences you notice? What are the things you miss, the things you hate? I won't ask about the things you like; we tend to notice only the negative.

Janice hated the night because night always led to day. Every morning she'd wake up before the alarm with a feeling of burning dread sitting at the bottom of her stomach. She'd struggle to go to sleep again and postpone the inevitable, but then the electronic alarm would buzz and she would have no choice but to get up and endure another day of heat and mosquitoes, of false friendliness and stares...

Other: How can it be so hard to fall in love?

2004-03-28T16:28:15Z

Mahirap talagang ipagpilitan ang mga bagay na hindi talaga nararapat. Hirap ipilit ang sarili sa taong simulat sapul e wala namang gusto sa iyo. Paano ngayon gagawin ko? Eh tuluyan ng nahulog ang loob ko. Paano ko siya kukumbinsihin na ako ang nararapat para sa kanya? Kung ako nga mismo ay nagdududa. Madami mang tanong ang bumabagabag sa isip ko. Isa lang ang sigurado: MAHAL KO SIYA!

Translation:
It's truly difficult to force things that really aren't meant to be. It's hard to force yourself on a person who from the beginning rejected you, who has no feelings for you at all. What should I do now? Now that I have fallen deeper. How can I convince her that I'm the right one for her? When even I am doubting. So many questions are bouncing around in my head. There is only one thing for sure: I LOVE HER!

I don't doubt sincerity, I see in it the light of truth. But sometimes I think I am built of illusions and it is hard to make truth from what never was. It's hard to shatter images, to shred dreams. I am afraid to, of what will happen afterwards will reveal a truth better left shrouded. How does he know *I'm* worthy of him? When I have never learned love or what it is. But one thing is clear – that things meant to be will happen on its own time. Such is life and such is fate.

Siguro nga lahat ng bagay ay may kanya-kanyang panahon. Maaaring hindi nga ito ang tamang oras o hindi ako ang tamang tao. Ang pagmamahal pala ay hindi naghahanap ng dahilan, ng kung bakit at ng kung ano at hindi naghihintay ng kapalit. Salamat at nakilala ko siya dahil sa kanya ko lang natutuhan ito.

Translation:
So maybe all things happen on their own time. It's possible that this isn't the right time or that I'm not the right person. I've realized that love doesn't look for a reason, or ask "why" or any other such nonsense, and love doesn't wait for anything in return. I'm thankful that I met her because it was from her I learned this.

How could I ever deserve him? When even now I fail to fall. When I may have been made to be loved but not to love. I love him for his purity, and yet I do not love him. Why can't I love him, he who is so right? He who would never wrong me.

How can it be so hard to fall in love?

Because maybe it isn't the right time. Maybe I'm not the right person. Maybe I'm not ready. But when will I be?