The Shalafae Archives - Party

Morrigana sat on the marble bench with a sigh, miserably bored. Her nails clicked on the stone, and she had a flash of desire to summon her talons and tear through the garden. But that would be considered rude, and Father asked me to behave. Why doesn't he just conquer them? The assassin ground her teeth, attempting to quell her frustration.

She tipped her square face to the violet moon, basking in the dark light. At least this planet orbits a black sun. If I have to be seared by another yellow sun, I'll scream. Her hair felt heavy beneath the jewels and wires her Aunt Kyra had dressed it with, and once more she wished to pull her knee length hair free of its constraints.

A familiar presence brushed across her shields, and the half dragon turned back to the party. Heavy orange lamps lit the ballroom, the cooing and bedecked nobles swarming around her father. He wants power from this planet, and soldiers who could sneak into forbidden places, so he chose to charm rather than force.

More like coerce, or he wouldn't have had me bring the guys. El and I could have served as bodyguards, but he wants them to know he has only sheathed his claws for the moment.

The meaning of the five armed assassins had been understood. Only Morrigana remained without weapons; she was officially here as Lady Shalafae, wife to the new Emperor. Which meant she must be on her best behavior.

There was still a knot of high ranked nobles near the enormous glass doors, exactly where she'd left them. I'm an assassin, a fighter. I don't have the temperament to do all this banter, let alone listen to their lying tongues. How can Father listen to their flattery when he can clearly taste their fear?

The hybrid smirked, watching her cousin Elthanael follow a dusky skinned girl to a dark corner of the balcony. His smile was hungry, his eyes hooded, and Morri couldn't fault him. The girl looked like she'd be a handful, more than willing to use her charms on a famous assassin.

They really thought they could distract my men with these tramps. Do they not have telepathic linking of their own? Do they doubt the accounts of our speed? Watching the golden elf lock mouths with the girl, Morrigana felt disgusted at being underestimated.

Trying to change her mood, the woman watched as the girl untied Elthanael's lacings, exposing his long neck and chest, then burying her face against his throat. El's mouth parted as he clutched the little vampire to himself, his faint groan echoing across the coterie's telepathic channels.

It's been like this all night. One of my guys following some vixen off to the shadows to relax in their arms. If Deandra had been here, she'd have swooped on the first young man to smile at her.

If only it were as simple for me. I'm just too used to Father's touch, and no one else can give me those feelings. No one even has the same power he does. The dragon smirked, recalling some of the nobles she'd met this evening. Well, maybe some do.

As if the thought summoned one of the nobles, a footstep sounded on the gravel path. Morri swallowed, stiffening, a powerful aura brushing against her shields. She remained still on the bench, wondering if the man would walk past this leafy bower. Please let him pass by. Please let him pass by.

The crunching footsteps stopped at the other end of the bench, right at the edge of the alcove. Morrigana kept her face turned, swearing to herself, eyes on the twinkling stars. It took all her discipline to not glance at him as his presence invaded her aura. So strong, she thought, gritting her teeth as she fought to keep him out.

"What brings the charming empress out to this secluded garden"

The hybrid couldn't resist the flinch as his sultry voice filled her ears. I never think of myself like that. Empress. I'm Father's blade, not his co-ruler. He commands, I obey. I do not command others.

But others regard me as their empress. I must get used to this. He expects it of me.

"I heard there were some very unique roses that grow here." She turned her face from him, trying to affect Emperor Shalafae's disdainful air. "Unfortunately they are not in bloom."

His voice held his smile."But the most beautiful rose is blooming beside me."

Morrigana bit the inside of her lip, drawing herself up straight, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. "Do you make it a habit of flattering empresses?" The woman turned her body, putting her back to him. Were he familiar with dragon body language, he would understand she was dianding to be left alone.

Instead, he stepped closer, settling on the center of the bench. Morri bristled, letting her aura flare, trying to drive him away. "I count myself lucky to be able to flatter an empress. If only all empresses had your looks and strength." His voice dropped to a sultry caress, and his aura completely enveloped her.

She sighed softly, absorbing his energy, and he must have seen the softening in her spine, for he slid closer to her. His breath washed across her hair, more intimate than if he'd traced his fingers over her bare skin. "Most ruling ladies are so soft and weak. You are strong and alluring."

"Perhaps you should return to the party. I would hate for anyone to miss you."

He moved again, the silk sleeve of his shirt brushing the bare skin of her back. "We have both seen your men being seduced and led off by some very beautiful women." Morrigana had been aware of every dalliance. "There was even someone picked for you."

"Oh? Did I already snub him?" She glanced over her shoulder, feeling her pulse rise as their eyes finally met. "Or is that why you have sought me out, when I clearly wanted to be alone?"

His smile was wicked, hunger in his eyes. "I am not the one assigned to you. But I have planned to seduce you since I first laid eyes on you." Morri bit her lip as he bent his head, his lips a hair's breadth from her shoulder. "I do so hope you don't mind."

The dragon turned her head, her teeth digging deep into her lip. His aura was digging into hers, almost painfully, ignoring all her shields. So strong, so dominate. I wouldn't mind his seduction right now. Not at all. But is this really the place for it?

His mouth fell to her skin, and she gasped. He had given her a chance to say no, albeit a small one. His lips caused her nerves to burn, and she groaned throatily. Her entire body responded, pulse racing, and she moaned again as his hands slid around her waist.

His mouth moved up to her neck, his tongue darting briefly to her skin, and her hand flew up to the back of his head. She needed him, her body hungered for him, and be damned to propriety. Her fingers tangled fiercely in his hair, and she growled as she pulled him to her neck.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him. Morri pressed her body to his chest, silk and leather stroking her skin. He kissed her neck softly, and she tugged harder on his hair. Her heart thundered, and she wanted to feel his strength inside her.

"I thought my empress wanted to be alone? I should return to the party before I'm missed," he said as he let her go.

The hybrid growled, rising from the bench, and turning in a swirl of skirts. She grabbed the noble by the shoulders, keeping him sitting on the bench. His eyes were amused, his lips flushed, and she laughed low in her chest. Morri dug her fingers into his shoulders, stepping forward to straddle one leg. She sat on his thigh, and leaned forward to kiss him.

"I am supposed to be inside with the hosts," he whispered when their lips parted. His breath tasted of wine and spices, and it was luring the half dragon back in to his sensuous mouth.

"Just do as your empress tells you." She bit his lip, and he gasped as her tongue invaded his mouth. She held onto his hair, drawing on his strength, feeding on him. His hands glided across her hips, along her sides, and his fingertips traced her spine. She turned his head, kissing along his jaw, moving along the edge of his shirt.

"What does my empress command?" His voice was husky, his hands kneading her skin. Morri ground her groin against his thigh, and they both groaned.

"Finish your seduction," she whispered fiercely in his ear. Then she gasped as his nails dug into her skin. He growled, reaching up for her hair, his hunger overwhelming her. Morri's heart stumbled, her mouth going dry, and she trembled in his grasp.

One hand finally gripped the curls of her hair, holding her tight, and his other hand slid to cup her butt through her dress. He was demanding and sure, pulling her close to him, drawing on her energy, touching her senses with his power. She wilted in his arms, her pulse throbbing in her ears, her skin tingling as his mouth found her neck.

With all the vampires around, all the faintly felt fangs she'd experienced because of her men, Morrigana had craved a proper feeding. Her father fed so deeply upon her, able to leave her a throbbing mess, and she desperately needed that right now.

His mouth opened over her vein, and she groaned, arms around his shoulders. His tongue traced the line of her pulse, his teeth grazing her flesh. Her loins clenched, her thighs trembling, and she pressed her neck against his mouth.

His hand clenched in her hair, holding her still, and he ground his leg up against her sex. Morri moaned weakly, biting her lip to hold her pleas in. The more he touched her, the more he held back from biting into her neck, the more she needed him.

His aura slid inside her defenses, and she whimpered, arching against his body. He held her hair, nails raking her lower back, and his presence seared her nerves. The woman cried out, her nails biting into 

his shoulders.

"Please," she whimpered desperately, shaking against him. Only old power like this made the dragon want to submit. She was completely his at this moment, and she wanted him to ravage her. "Your fangs, please." Morri's voice was high pitched and quivering, her bedroom voice that her men had never heard. She didn't think about them, or if they could feel her need. She though only of being fed upon and weakened.

"As my lady wishes." His voice was harsh, a whisper that expressed a need as great as her own. She whimpered as he kissed her earlobe, her cheek, her jaw, and she waited for his bite.

He dove for her neck with a hungry growl, and she gaped as his mouth opened over her vein. His teeth dug into her flesh, instantly bruising her soft skin. A cry rose from her chest, her gut and loins tensing, feeling the points of his fangs above the vein. He snarled, biting deeper, and her voice reached higher plateaus as skin was pierced, her blood flowing.

He fed greedily, drawing hard on Morrigana's heart, taking the blood of her flesh and the energy of her spirit, causing her to reel in his arms. Great gulps of her strength, the woman willingly parting with it, his heat pressing against her trembling flesh.

He broke his bite with a gasp, claiming her mouth as she cried out. He let go of her hair, cradling her lolling body against his chest. He ended the kiss, stroking her hair, and rocked the limp hybrid gently.

"I suppose negotiations were successful?" she asked him.

Alzair laughed softly, kissing her ear. "Yes they were, my child." He kissed her hair, both of them euphoric and craving the touch of the other. "They have accepted me as their emperor, and they will give me their shadow warriors." The Sidhehan squeezed her tight. "Get your men, let's go home."

"Sure." She smiled as he rose, standing them both on their feet. "Father? I love you."

"I love you too, Daughter."

Hearthstone gameplay - Happy Feast of Winterveil

Enjoying this Tavern Brawl while I can.

#FridayFlash - Psychic Pranks

When I made the video for Fornication Wonders, I decided I really liked the pseudo- Laurel and Hardy back and forth. Maybe I liked it enough to turn it into a recurring storyline.

***

"So, I've been thinking."

"Another astonishing contemplation on the nature of lycan bodily fluids?"

"Ugh, no. I decided that was really just too gross to keep thinking about."

"Then what, pray tell, has you in such a tizzy this time?"

"Do psychics ever pull pranks?"

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but what do you mean?"

"Okay, so there's this general idea that psychics are little goody-two shows, and they use their powers to help people, and they tell the truth about everything they see."

"That seems to be the general presumption, yes."

"But just like how normal people aren't all exactly good, why wouldn't there be psychics that are different? What if one of them had a really twisted sense of humor and just used that trustworthy reputation to mess with people?"

"Now I understand this supposed train of thought."

"Yeah, so maybe this prankster can see that you're going to die if you turn left on a corner, and while a goodly psychic would tell you to turn right, he tells you it's safe to go left."

"A jury might consider that manslaughter, not a prank."

"I mean, I guess, sure, but a psychic's going to know the cops are on the way, won't get caught. But what if they just give bad advice on dates, and convince their client that the wrong person is their true love? Or keep giving out lottery numbers that are just one digit off?"

"Have you ever considered finding a hobby?"

"Pretty sure this counts as a hobby."

"Something constructive, that would make better use of your time?"

"You're right. I really need to spend more time doing this."

"That is, in fact, the exact opposite of what I just said."

"I could be a philosopher! People will gobble up my wisdom."

"This cannot possible end well."

"Just wait and see. I'll be the next Aristato, but for monsters."

The Strange Laughter - video short story

You reap what you sow. Original story from 2011.

The Shalafae Archives - The Wedding

Morrigana's heart raced harder than during any battle, staring at the Lord Shalafae. Aunt Kyra stood close behind her. "You can't keep him waiting forever," the blond woman said.

The hybrid shuddered, clutching the bouquet of roses to her chest. Her father was staring into the mists, his slender back to her, milky hair decorated in the style of his people. Alzair looked wonderful in black and crimson robes, and love suffused her being at the sight of him.

Kyra touched her back, and Morrigana began her approach. The mists whispered with lost souls and potential realities. No better place for two Immortal Chaos Lords to be married than in the aether between dimensions.

#FridayFlash - In Bloom

I submitted a story to an anthology recently, and the theme was "Temporally Deactivated". Explore what we thought that meant, and not just dead. With that theme in mind, and watching many of bulbs growing a full season and a half early, I came up with this piece.

***

"What is your secret?" I asked Sammie as I joined her on the deck. I was hours early for the ritual, and she was still working with her flowers. This was only my third visit, but I'd yet to see her without a plant in hand.

"Secret for what?" She didn't look up from her work table, hands busy dividing hyacinth bulbs. Six pots waited for the transplants, half full of dirt, intricate designs painted up their sides.

"Keep all these bulbs in bloom all year?" I bent to sniff one of her giant black tulips. "I mean, it's October, and this guy just opened up. Do you have a hothouse I don't know about?"

She smirked, setting her knife aside, and looked at me with knowing eyes. "No hothouse. This is where they all live and grow." She gestured at the verdant deck and the flagstone patio below. Outdoors, exposed to the cycles of Nature, and yet she had tulips and daffodils and hyacinths in fresh bloom.

"Is it a spell?" I asked, voice lowered. No telling how far my words might travel, and the neighbors didn't know a coven of witches met here every full moon.

"Not a bad guess," Sammie answered. "Only Tasha figured it out faster than you did." She drew a pot closer, then selected one of the young bulbs. She worked efficiently to set the little ones in their new home, then cover them up with dirt.

I made a mental count of all her plants, guessing that even the rooms I hadn't seen were full of greenery. Not all of them bloomed out of cycle, but the majority did. "That's an awful lot of power to feed that many spells."

"You're right, it would be. If I were actively making them grow." Sammie began another planting.

A frown grew as I moved closer to her work table. I was a young witch with much to learn, but I couldn't suss out what she was doing. "I've yet to hear of anything that would make this possible. How are you doing this?"

Sammie slid a pot toward me without looking, focused on her next planting. "Your only clue: it's the sigils."

I picked up the pot, heart racing with excitement. Few witches worked with sigils, doing most of their magic sympathetically or with ritual. To my limited understanding, sigils were an artistic representation of the spellcaster's will, and they functioned on their own once empowered.

Because I knew so little of this magic, I saw only doodles and pictograms. A sun and moon balanced on either side, tied together by meandering strings. It was a beautiful, rhythmic patter, taking the eye on a constant journey. The longer I stared, the more the sigil seemed to glow and sparkle with an inner light.

"The plant fuels its own spell," I whispered, a spark of intuition rising to the surface.

"You are a good one," Sammie replied. The coven leader finally stopped her work to look at me, eyes brighter than her smile. "Would you like to know what it means?" I nodded enthusiastically, and she took the pot back to begin the explanation.

"My teacher called this a variation on a temporal deactivation. Rather than stopping time, I'm merely picking where it starts. The pot then lives at the normal pace of the seasons, but always as if from when I set it. Which, for my hyacinths, is the Spring Equinox. The spell requires very little power to maitain its field, which the plant is more than capable of providing."

I met her gaze, wonderment stirring through me. Plenty of people, witches included, would think this a waste of power and resources. But not I, and clearly not Sammie. "This is amazing."

She clasped my hand, laying it on the pot. "Would you like to learn how?"

Movie Review - Gehenna

Gehenna is definitely a slow burner, ramping up to its twist ending. However, it's fairly predictable and not really that scary.

The concept has some potential, and that's why I gave it some of my time. The acting is only average, exactly what you would expect from a straight-to-DVD type of movie. Character backstories are pulled straight Horror Tropes Weekly (doesn't exist, but it should), and lack any depth. Jump scares and shock gore make up the "horror", and might frighten people less jaded and desensitized than myself.

Unfortunately, this movie seems to be stuck between two worlds. It's not quite a gore-fest slasher, nor is it exactly a psychological nail-biter. It mixes tropes from both realms, but not in a way that makes it stand out or seem groundbreaking.

Can't say this is worth hunting down to watch, but if there's nothing better on, you could certainly do worse.

Fornication Wonders - video short story

This really was supposed to have come out yesterday. Ooops.

The Shalafae Archives - The Crypt

"What is this place?" she asked as her father approached. Morrigana sat on a marble bench amongst his rose gardens, staring at the illusion she'd summoned. The elegant crypt fit perfectly behind her favorite fountain, and the half-dragon burned with curiosity. "Who's crypt is that?"

Shalafae sat behind her, laying a hand on her bare shoulder. She smelled his pheromones, mingling with the roses, and smiled despite her confusion regarding the crypt. "Where did you find out about this?"

She turned, frowning at his shocked tone. His crimson eyes were wide, the moon making him appear wrought of silver. "In my dreams every night for the last two weeks."

Nomycha book trailer

I enjoyed finally creating this trailer. Check it out, and maybe check out the book itself.

Hearthstone Gameplay - Rastakhan Brawling Warrior

It takes forever, but I trounce a Paladin. I think I might actually have simply frustrated him to death.

#FridayFlash - Caireen

Watched a show that had some child sacrifice, and tried to play it off as quirky and weird. So I used that to inspire this piece.

And I know that Caireen was not a maiden goddess, but why wouldn't she disguise herself to catch the creeps that kill the children she's supposed to protect?

***

Three old men stood in the shadows, staring at the young woman in the middle of the room. She wore only a thin shift, strawberry blond hair spilling free to her waist. Green eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and arousal stirred through the cabal.

Movie Review - Standoff

I've decided to start reviewing movies again. Short opinion pieces to give an idea of what might or might not be worth your time.

But few of them will be big box office movies, because there are plenty of other people doing that. I think I'll start off with the lesser known flicks I find, mostly on Netflix.

 Standoff is an interesting character drama and action thriller. Thomas Jane and Laurence Fishburne play well off each other, written as almost two sides of the same coin. Two soldiers that took different paths and reacted to the trauma of war in different ways.

I have enjoyed Thomas Jane since Deep Blue Sea, and he is no slouch in this role. A girl shows up on his doorstep asking for help, and he does the right thing and protects her, no matter the cost to himself. He's broken and tragic, but has the chance for redemption through heroism.

Laurence Fishburrne nibbles on the scenery as he explores the depths of psycho hitman. Not randomly crazy, just completely detached from morality and humanity. It's good to see him be something so diametrically opposed to Morpheus, and to be such an unlikable character.

The men are fighting over the young girl played by Ella Ballentine, and she does a great job. Most child actors are not very good, deliver poor line reads, but she was the shy, scared girl she needed to be. The writer also did a good job of not giving her adult speech patterns, but let her speak like a girl coping with trauma and in a terrible situation.

Adam Alleca directs a tight movie that brings out the loneliness of the remote farmhouse, and the desperate separation from outside help. Action scenes were well done, without being edited all to hell. There is some gruesomeness, but nothing too excessive or gratuitous. Characters don't do anything pointlessly stupid simply to progress the plot, or otherwise leave you wondering why they would behave that way.

Enjoyable to watch, and I definitely recommend it.

Rosebud - video short story

Time for that weekly short story fun. Rosebud was a fun one to write, and pretty fun to turn into an audiobook.

Music by me, on BandLab.

The Shalafae Archives - Returning

A very long one, told from two perspectives. I should rewrite the fight scene between Morri and Revkah; I think I have it somewhere, but I can't remember where. On the to-do list, I guess.

***

He stared out the window, and the entire desert seemed to spread before him. His tower loomed over pale sands, dominating the sky. There was nothing else around for hundreds of leagues; even the oasis were few and far between. Kyra called it his lonely tower.

Lord Shalafae could sense everything from here. He was aware of the impending storm, of the sand worms lazily cruising by, of the caravan at the edge of his domain, and the bandits who would strike them by morning.

Most of all, he felt his daughter speeding here.

Crafting time - New Etsy items

It's been great having more time to myself. I've actually gotten some things done.

#FridayFlash - Therapy

I enjoy doing these kinds of stories, dialogue only. It's a good exercise to make the two characters different, without even dialogue tags. Enjoy!

***

"Welcome, Anne. Have a seat. This says this is your first time in therapy."

"Uh, yeah. I, um...never..."

"Relax. It's perfectly natural to be nervous. Understand that you're in a safe space."

"What am I supposed...how should I start?"

"Start however you would like. What makes you the most comfortable?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure."

"You could start by telling me why you made this appointment. That's pretty easy, isn't it?"

"My friend said I should go talk to someone."

"Sounds like a good friend, like they're really looking out for you."

"I guess. I tried, um, well, I tried talking to her, but she, um, she said it might be better if, well, if I talked to you. She said you've...that you've done a lot for her."

"Some subjects are better left to the professionals, wouldn't you agree? It wouldn't be very smart to have your friend rebuild your engine, no matter how good a friend they are."

"That's something weird I've tried asking before."

"Pardon? This really does work better if you speak up. Remember, I'm on your side. You have nothing to fear from me."

"I asked her, once...I asked why more people, um...why not do things for themselves."

"That's a very interesting question. Would you like to expand upon it?"

"Maybe."

"Anne, this is not a place of judgment. This is a safe space. You can express whatever you want, and nothing goes any farther than myself."

"It's just, like, uh, well, just, I wondered...why don't more people, you know, well, do things for themselves? Like cook, or sew, or fix their car."

"You don't sound like you're merely questioning. That sounds more like you want someone to ask you what you think. Do you already have an answer?"

"Not an answer, exactly, but I have, um, I have a theory."

"Would you feel better if we talked about that?"

"It's weird, and I can't stop thinking about it. It's just that, I think, maybe, people would be happier if they did do things for themselves. I think, you know, that they're just being taught that they, um...just programmed to believe that, you know, can't take care of themselves. They're just being made to be weak."

"That's an interesting theory. When did-"

"And when someone like me does do something all by themself, it's thought of as this big deal, no matter how small or easy it is. Like, I made cookies for my coworkers, and they all kept telling me how great I was, and how I shouldn't have put so much of my own time into it, and all I did was add eggs to a bag of powder. I didn't actually do anything. Not like my grandmother could."

"You must have looked up to your grandmother. Did she-"

"Someone was late to work, and it was because they had to wait for roadside assistance to come change their tire, and I asked why they didn't just do it themselves, and they said they didn't know how, and when I asked them why not, they stared at me like I was the crazy one."

"Nobody is saying you're crazy. Do you feel-"

"The very idea of doing anything for yourself is scary, and it's like I can't say anything about that without someone trying to tell me how weird I am. I just make my own washcloths and use them for cleaning my house instead of disposable towels. Not like I keep my own piss in a jar or collect toenails."

"Anne, you don't need-"

"The strawberries from my garden taste so much better than the ones from the store. My dog is less stressed if I brush him instead of some stranger. I don't-"

"-to get so excited. Anne, please! Attempt to control yourself. Let's talk about all this at a reasonable volume."

"Even this, this whole therapy thing, is people believing the programming that they need someone with a pretty piece of paper to tell them how to feel, when they could solve their own problems if they just put a little personal effort into it!"

"My, that sounded cathartic. I certainly hope you're feeling better."

"I'm not. I don't. I, uh...I just want to feel normal. I don't, you know, want to feel crazy anymore. I don't want to have all these weird thoughts all the time."

"Not to worry, Anne. I have some very recent prescriptions that will help immensely with your problem coping."

"Thank you, Doc. Just, like, thank you so much."

"You're very welcome. That's why I'm here. And I'd like to see you at least once a week for now. Deborah in reception will help you get all set up."

Hunted - video short story

Based on this story, here is this week's video story:

The Shalafae Archives - Training

Morrigana strode into her father’s weapons room, small bells tinkling in her hair. Her Aunt Kyra had braided them in this morning after breakfast, and the sound had kept the hybrid company as she explored the castle.

All these enchanted weapons, and I never see him use them. But, he has been spending a lot of time training me and the others. She smirked. Maybe one of them is for me.

The hybrid paused when a soft song came to her. Images of battle and victory filled her head, and Morri focused on the black swords hanging on the wall. They were alone, the other weapons kept away from them.

She knew the swords, but had never seen them. The Lord Shalafae wielded Stormbringer and Mournblade, two Chaos blades. Her father was unstoppable with them, though he rarely drew them anymore.

Father, she mused as she approached the swords. It’s still strange to think that. He sired me, and trains me, and lays with me. And he’ll grant me revenge. Morrigana’s thoughts turned dark as she reached for the blade on the left.

The singing increased as she grabbed the hilt.

“Put it down, Daughter.” Alzair’s voice was harsh, his presence filling the room. He was deadly serious and would brook no resistance.

Morrigana turned toward him, Mournblade in hand. “Or you’ll do what?” She grinned madly as the images of battle increased. Soon, she would attack the dragons. Soon, her mother would pay for lying to the hybrid. Soon, all would fear her.

Lord Shalafae strode directly to Stormbringer, his eyes hard. “This is no game, child.” The black sword howled as he took it up.

She smiled, playful and mildly crazy. “Everything is a game. You said so.” Black iron hummed as she swung it in figure eights.

Her father glared, unmoving. “These are not. Put the sword down.” He refused to name them.

Morrigana laughed as she sprang forward, slashing at him. “Stop being so dour. Play with me.” He black hair swung with her movements, the bells tinkling.

Alzair blocked easily, crimson eyes stern. The albino Sidhehan had been riding recently and wore plain leather pants and tunic. The thin black clothes were enough to hide his movements, and Morrigana misjudged his parry. She nearly lost her balance as he dodged, and the smile left her face.

“Do not start this fight.” Alzair swung again, driving her back. “Put down the sword, and we’ll find another way to play.”

The hybrid frowned, petulant, and thrust with Mournblade. “You never let me pick what we do. Are you scared I’ll kill you with your own blade?”

His eyes hardened. “So be it.”

When he attacked, Morrigana realized she was ill-prepared to face him. Shalafae had millions of years of experience, and she only a few. Metal shrieked against metal as she blocked and parried, unable to go on the offensive.

Time froze. Morrigana gasped at the suddenness of blood on his face, and then the breath died in her lungs. Why was she on the floor? Why couldn’t he move? Why was her father so sad?

Glancing down, she saw Stormbringer punched through her chest, just to the right of her heart. Realization began sinking in. Her pulse suddenly raced, and she felt her heart pounding against the sword. She screamed in pain.

“I told you not to start that fight.” Alzair knelt before her, breathing deeply as he dispelled the illusion. “Have you learned your lesson?”

The training illusion was done, but the agony remained. Morrigana continued to scream.

Her soul was being eaten by the chaos blade. Hungry and villainous, it wanted her dead. She was Shalafae’s new weapon, and that couldn’t be allowed. Pulling at her tunic, Morrigana felt blood running between her breasts.

“Daughter?” Her father gripped her shoulder, gave her a little shake. “It’s over. You’re fine.” He cupped her cheek with his other hand.

Her only response was to shriek and collapse into his arms.

Even lost in pain and dying, she felt her father’s concern. He bundled her up and teleported her to his room. “Kyra!” He bellowed for his sister, and Morrigana’s voice lifted wordlessly with his.

Blood burned her skin as her life poured out onto the sheets. The young woman thrashed in torment, consciousness fading. Scream after scream tore through her, even when her aunt laid soothing hands on her face.

“What happened, Brother?”

"The sword scenario. She couldn’t resist them, and she couldn’t win.” A pause in speech as he held her down. “But when it ended, she was still wounded.”

Kyra’s healing power surged through the half-dragon. Morrigana knew her soul was being eaten, that no healing could stop it. Her surety strengthened when Kyra gasped in shock.

“Hold on to her with everything you have,” the Sidhehan healer ordered. Lord Shalafae tightened his grip, and used Chaos magic to bundle her up with the sheets. Warmth flooded her soul, gripped her heart, and she felt her father’s soul against her own. Morri writhed in his grip, lost in a twilight of pain and death, but faded no further.

“Can you stop it?” Alzair’s voice was soft and low, and the ache in it caused Morrigana to stop screaming.

He cares about me. He will be sad if I die. Suppressing another shriek, the hybrid reached for her father, tried to hold on just for him.

“There’s so much blood.” Kyra was distracted by her work, and her voice came out as a murmur. “The wound is real. Not psychological.” The healer grunted, and pain faded beneath more energy. “She’s really been cut by that blade.”

Shalafae caressed her hair, and Morrigana forced her eyes open. Tears glittered on his cheeks, and she wanted to wipe them away. Morri tried to move, but the sheets kept her restrained.

Vertigo ripped through her, causing Morrigana to sigh in relief as pain faded. She floated in a sea of tension, but she was no longer dying. Though she ached and was weary, she was safe in her father’s arms.

“I don’t know if she’ll heal right.” Kyra moved fro the bed, voice gravely with her weariness. “I’ve done the best I can, but I don’t know if it will be enough.”

“That’s all I ask,” Alzair replied. Ensorcelled sheets released her, and Morrigana whimpered as her father pulled her tightly to him. Kyra stepped through the aether to leave them alone.

Neither of them spoke. Morrigana basked in his presence, grateful to be alive, happy to be in his arms. Shalafae stroked her hair, arms trembling as he held her.

“Do not ever scare me like that again,” he finally said in a voice choked with emotion.

Morrigana squeezed him close. “I promise.”

Hearthstone gameplay - Spell hunting the face

Just another Sunday gameplay.

#FridayFlash - Den Mother

I'm fleshing out a concept for a new novel/serial. Post-magical return society, and lots of people have gained psi or magic powers. But it's in the first part of the shift, when people are still adapting and recovering.

My main character ends up with lots of little powers, and that combines with her natural urge to protect a group and make sure things run smoothly. Not that she's altruistic and self-sacrificing...but does anyone expect that from one of my characters?

***

Lieutenant Reed finished his briefing and stood at ease. "Any questions?" The slab of a man normally made me feel small, even though I was big for a woman, but all I felt right now was scrutiny of his squad.

Private Tapping raised his hand, and I was reminded of Aliens. "Yeah, um, why the fuck do we need a babysitter?" He jutted his jaw at me, eyes hard. My empathic skills gave me a rough understanding of his feelings.

I was still getting used to the sudden insight into the people around me. The Convergence had brought out a lot of changes in all of us.

"Miss Ingeborg is coming along to provide us support, not tell us what to do." Reed was precise with his words, even a little gruff; you'd never know how big his belly laugh was, or how excited he could be over his Lab puppy. I only knew it because he'd been a regular at the liquor store I worked at before everything.

"Yeah, but she's called the Den Mother. Which sounds like someone thinks we need a mommy." Tapping was simply voicing the concern running through the squad. Not all of them cared about me being along; they were soldiers and would do what they were told.

But the Convergence was still fresh in everyone's minds. People were still sorting themselves out, still trying to establish an understanding of the new world, and the psis scared some of them. I understand why these men would feel threatened by me.

Lieutenant Reed's shoulders stiffened; he was torn between simply shutting the young man up and going into an in-depth explanation as to why I was going and not one of the new healers. He wasn't threatned by me, but we'd also fought our way through a zombie outbreak during the Convergence.

I stepped forward to answer, letting Reed off the hook. Better they were upset at me than their CO. "Yeah, I'm old enough to be your mommy, but that's not why I'm the Den Mother."

He started to retort, and I shut him down with a glare, pulling my shoulders back and puffing out my chest. Exert dominance now, don't show weakness. "If that name is too much for you, you're welcome to use one from before the Big C. Would you prefer Total Bitch or Fucking Cunt? All three are accurate and earned, but I don't think you understand them."

All eyes were on me. I sensed a variety of responses; shock, admiration, humor. This level of empathy was new to me, and I couldn't sort out the sources, couldn't fully interpret what I picked up. Would be nice to have some more time to learn, but time was a rare commodity anymore.

I planted my hands on my hips and continued my rant. Now that it had started, it was venting from deep inside. All the years I'd swallowed back what I really thought because strong women were not exactly popular, weren't praised for speaking their minds.

"Most people are a little intimidated by the fact that I'm smart, and skilled, and I generally know what I'm talking about. I know how to get shit done, and I expect people to just do what I say because it's probably the right thing to do. People who are too stupid to do what I say are pretty quick to know about it, and I won't let them forget. That's where the Fucking Cunt comes in.

"But those who call me that don't always see the full picture. They don't know the real me. They don't know how loyal I am, that I will defend and protect those that are mine unto death. I will take care of anyone under me, make sure they survive. There's at least a dozen people here alive because I made sure they were."

Tapping opened his mouth, angered by my apparent bossiness. Now was the time to shut him completely down and win him over. Hopefully.

"Here's the thing, though. You're a soldier. You're all soldiers and killers, and you know how to do your job. That job right now is to slog through three miles of broken city full of ghouls, zombies, raiders, looters, monsters, feral animals, and all sorts of other hazards, just to go pick up a few dozen civilians in various states of shock and fear.

"They're going to be a bunch of mewling babies, in need of someone to take care of them. Probably someone who can heal, and can pick up their emotions, and can fight, and can calm feral animals, and can sense monsters coming, and can keep them together and moving forward. Someone who can free up the soldiers to do soldier things.

"Do we know someone like that, who's in our base, who has all those powers since the Convergence, and who is willing to go back out into that shit? Oh, wait, we totally have someone like that. Funny enough, she's even been nicknamed the Den Mother. What a coinkydink." The air was thick with my sarcasm. "Now, unless you want to trade your M-16 for a diaper bag, how about you stow your bellyaching and let me do MY FUCKING JOB!"

The briefing room was quiet in the wake of my shout. I glared at the private, our eyes locked, quietly daring him to refute me now, to find something else to complain about. I felt enormous, strong, my presence larger than everyone else combined.


We remained that way for a long moment. Too many seconds to count passed as everyone watched, no one speaking or moving. Maybe they'd all had a little sample of what Shere Khan faced when trying to get past Raksha and were afraid I'd truly snap.

An enormous grin spread across Tapping's face. "Oohrah, ma'am. Oohrah."

Roommates - video story

Continuing to repurpose my old Friday flash stories. Here's Roommates:

The Shalafae Archives - Blood Games

Naughtiness, on the heels of "Woo Her" and "Hello".

***

Alzair Shalafae led her through dark corridors, deep into the castle. The young woman burned with curiosity, but remained quiet. Her master would tell her what she needed to know when she needed to know.

The night of the asteroid shower had brought changes to Morrigana’s master; no more random cruelty, more openness, and a heretofore unseen glint in his crimson eyes.

Hearthstone gameplay - Spell Hunter is the pits

Because I can't win every week.

My Etsy and crafting

I've started my Etsy shop back up. Nothing like putting my arts and crafts out there for others to appreciate, and potentially ball.

Which means I'm working on projects, and doing fun things. Like this scarf that's available:


And I painted up a pot for a friend in Texas. Thinking about making pots to put in my shop, though I think I'll need to find something a little lighter than terra cotta. Or make stickers for people to put on their own pots.

So, yeah, there's that. Fun times in my little world.

#FridayFlash - Paid Opposition

"Brenna, you look nice." Dietrich pulled out a chair and sat across from the woman in question. He wore jeans and leather, combat boots and a heavy wallet chain. Not the typical customer of such a swanky cafe.

"You look..." Brenna arched one thin brow disdainfully. "Like yourself. Couldn't you have at least tried?" She sipped her espresso, manicured nails bloody red against the ceramic cup. A raspberry score sat uneaten in front of her.

"I mean, yeah, I could have. But why should I? It's not like I'm trying to blend in with these wankers. They're someone else's paycheck. Mine like me just fine the way I am." He lounged back in his chair, eyeing one of the counter girls. "If you don't like it, you can always come to my side of town next time."

Brenna managed not to sneer only by dabbing her mouth with the cloth napkin. "If you agree to my proposal, that won't have to be your side of town very much longer."

Dietrich reached for her scone and pulled one corner off. Crumbs scattered as he popped it in his mouth. "You said something about a job offer. Since when are you high enough rank to pass out new assignments?"

"Keep your voice down," the woman said lowly. Her eyes darted around, looking for any who might be listening.

"Too damn suspicious. No one cares about us or what we do. Humans are stupid." Dietrich stole another bite.

Brenna slid the plate to his side of the table. "It's not them I'm worried about."

He laughed, pastry falling from his lips to his shirt. "Has anyone even seen an angel in the last two hundred years? Fuck them. Let them hear us."

Brenna sipped her espresso again. "You'll need to be more subtle if you join my team."

"Give me a good enough reason, I'll be as subtle as you need. But it has to be a pretty damn good reason." Dietrich finished the scone.

"My team have found a much easier way to tempt and rile up the humans. It's highly effective, it takes less effort on our part, and it is utterly pervasive." Brenna panned her gaze slowly around the room, pausing at each person staring at their phone.

Dietrich stared, waiting for her to continue.

"We have a captive audience. With a few words, maybe a picture, we can reach so many. We're forced to invest or time with just one human, working our plays on their weakness only to have it fail after months and even years."

He blinked quietly.

"My team work our ploys on the masses. Our time is put into many, and we don't even speak to them. Any of them can stumble upon our corruption at any time, can revisit it, can let it burrow into their psyche without our constant persuasion."

Dietrich licked his fingers and checked his non-existant watch.

Brenna's voice dropped in tone, her frustration peeking through her otherwise calm demeanor. "Our influence draws the weak to us, and they start echoing our words. They happily do it for us, punish those around them, bring in more victims."

Dietrich shrugged, picking crumbs off the table. "I'm waiting for that good reason."

She clenched her fists and jaw, eyes flashing red as she growled at him. "How the fuck do you not get it? I'm talking about the fucking internet. We spend our time fucking around with people, leaving fucked up messages and creating fucked up memes."

Dietrich smiled. Then laughed. And kept laughing. People began to stare, and he continued to guffaw. Brenna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then checked her make up. A barista approached, and only then did he regain control of himself.

"I'm not laughing at you, but that's pretty fucking funny. You're all serious, and put together, and acting like you've hit on some epic scheme to gather souls for Hell, and you're just a bunch of internet trolls."

Brenna narrowed her eyes, jaw tight. "We're not trolls. We're paid opposition."

"Call it whatever you want, but your team are a bunch of trolls." Dietrich laughed, wiping raspberry sauce off the plate, eyes sparkling with humor.

She drew her shoulders back and slowly released her pent up breath. "I thought this would be right up your alley. But it seems I was wrong. Thank you for your time. I'll keep you in mind if I hear about something involving knuckle-dragging and nut scratching."

Dietrich leaned closer, dropping his grin. "Fuck no. I want in on this. And I want in, like, yesterday. When do I begin?"

Made an interview at Smaashwords

I have to say, I like some of their questions. And I enjoyed being able to talk about myself without having to make it up whole cloth. Answers are easier than biographies, even if they are basically the same.

Let me know what you think. Is there some burning question you want an answer to?

https://www.smashwords.com/interview/ravencorinncarluk

Birth of the Dragonkin - video story

Here's the video version of Birth of the Dragonkin.

Birth of the Dragonkin - short story

Surprisingly, I've never placed this story on my blog. Would have been nice, after I trashed my site to do so.

It's a long one, but I think it's kind of worth it. But why wouldn't I?
***

"Lord Travail, why did you summon me out here?" The voice belonged to a wiry youth, his long hair curling around his face, dressed in silk and velvet. He sniffed sharply, plucking at the folds of his tunic, and glanced around the landscape once more.

The sky arched rich and purple above them, a yellow moon sailing slowly across it. There were no clouds, but the debris ring of the planet sparkled in reflected light from the red giant that was this system's sun. Stars were few and far between, but they blazed with blue fire against the violent backdrop.

The Shalafae Archives - War Elemental

They sat on the hill overlooking the warrior camp, studying their target. "Kongar hasn't moved all day," Elthanael murmured, leaning closer to the hybrid. She nodded, sniffing the hot winds that breezed past them. Being in the desert made her want to fly and hunt, and forget all about her duties to Lord Shalafae.

Kill first, then fly. It was difficult for the woman to keep her mind focused as the sun beat down on them. "But he's there. He's waiting for us."

Elthanael spat, caressing the hilt of his sword. "We could just go in there."

"Tent's shielded. I already tried to phase in, but this is the closest I could get."

"Explains why we're way out here." He chuckled. "How 'bout you just light them all on fire, and I'll get Kongar when he comes out. Then we get the hell out of here before that Chaos storm arrives."

Morrigana slowly nodded her head. A few centuries of partnership, yet it felt like they'd been together forever. She was pleased to have someone she could trust to watch her back; coming on assassination missions was well beneath her father's notice.

"Dragonfire should convince his mercenaries he's not worth protecting," she mused. Kongar had stolen from her father, then attempted to hide. Unfortunately for the petty thief, there were few places to hide from the Shalafaes, and fewer swords-for-hire that would stand up against them.

"And you get to fly," he said, patting her shoulder. "I'll wait until you've got them good and frenzied."

Morrigana rose, stretching, summoning power to her. She didn't care if anyone in camp felt her transformation; none of them would be able to stop her. And they would be unable to do anything once she was in dragon form without special weapons; Kongar had unlikely paid for the kind of mercenaries that had dragon slaying blades.

Chaos energy crackled through her nerves, and she nudged with her mind, initiating the transformation. Muscles and tendons creaked as they stretched, bones shifted and grew, and her wings spread. In the span of heartbeats, Morrigana was a large black dragon, silver markings gleaming under the heavy sun. Trumpeting, she stretched her head out, warning her prey she was coming. Launching into the air, Morri laughed to herself.

She rose effortlessly, wings pumping through hot air. This was what she'd wanted, what she needed. This harsh desert was like her homeworld, full of volcanic fields and jagged cliffs. Shalafae's court was currently held in a sandy desert, all rolling dunes and sand storms.

Her scales absorbed the heat, warming her blood, stirring her nerves. Taut wings caught a thermal, and she soared, the world spread out below her. She was queen of the sky, and none could defeat her. Not even the looming Chaos storm, seething closer every moment, could stop her.

Morrigana growled to herself, baring her teeth. This isn't the time for this.

Coming back to herself, she dove toward the camp, wings tucked against her sides. Mercenaries scurried below, and the half-dragon roared a challenge. Crossbows were fired up at her, bouncing harmlessly off her scales. Arching her back, Morrigana's dive leveled out, and she unleashed venom on the camp. Sticky fluid shot from the glands in her cheeks, mixing, igniting from the very friction of the air. Screams filled the camp, and she laughed to herself.

Someone tried to use magic on her, attempting to snag her out of the sky. Morrigana laughed again, her shields devouring the spell, and turned for another strafe. Those who'd survived the first attack decided they weren't getting paid enough, and the fled by any means possible. Dimensional walls rippled as Kongar was abandoned.

Fire roared as canvas and rope were consumed, and Morri reveled in the sound. Landing before Kongar's tent, her tail lashed up dirt and rocks, dust flying as she folded her wings. Venom dripped from snarling lips, and she issued a telepathic challenge.

~There's no skirt to hide behind any longer!~

Kongar's presence oozed out along with the corpulent man himself. Nearly as wide as he was tall, he moved surprisingly fast. Morrigana tasted the magic he used to keep his bulk from being a hassle, and she blew air out her nose in a draconic laugh.

"Why are you here?" he shouted, planting the haft of his axe in the sand. Magic pulsed from the weapon; it was enchanted to improve his fighting skills.

~You know why I'm here.~ She stretched her wings, keeping her head high. ~Lord Shalafae does not appreciate your theft.~

"So he sent his little bitch to kill me?" Kongar laughed, fat rolling with the motion.

"Pretty much," Elthanael answered, appearing behind the obese man. Kongar grunted, eyes widening, as the elf drove his golden scimitar deep into the fatty's back. Blood stained the man's lips, and the elf twisted the blade.

Morri slipped back to her natural form, approaching her cousin as he withdrew his scimitar. "Fat bastard really thought he was better than us." The elf laughed, shoving Kongar forward.

Their target remained standing, and even started laughing. "You really thought that would kill me?" He purposely echoed their phrasing, his question dripping derision. He turned, blood dribbling down his chin. "All this padding is armor too, dolts."

Power surged around Kongar, and the two assassins leapt away. Kongar's shields domed over them, trapping them in the field of combat. Morrigana swore, drawing her sword, the black metal singing for battle. Kongar lifted his axe, the edge gleaming under the desert sun. Elthanael tried to circle around the rotund fighter, waiting to strike.

"Shalafae can go fuck himself," Kongar spat, watching his killers. "He doesn't run the multiverse."

"He doesn't have to. You stole what is his, and that puts you under his jurisdiction." Morrigana circled him, watching as he swung his axe, threatening the young woman. Kongar was waiting for something, but she didn't know what.

The ground rumbled, and the hybrid launched herself into the air. The fat man's shield kept her from going too high, from transforming. Had she gotten higher, she'd have escaped the lashing tendrils of barb wire that shot out of the ground. Metal dug into bare flesh, and she snarled in pain, hovering.

Then she was yanked back to the earth.

Where did Kongar get a war elemental from? In no way should he be able to control one. But the proof was in the barbs digging through her shields. Somehow, from somewhere, the former bureaucrat had obtained a war elemental. A powerful creature spawned from all the worst and best parts of mass combat, forged in the passions and death of battle, they were less predictable and less controllable than even fire elementals. 

Beneath her feet, the hard desert ground became muddy with bloody. Bayonets stabbed at her, gouging but not piercing her armor. Voices howled in the back of her head, crying for vengeance and her life. She felt the press of seething bodies, of dying men, as though entire legions clashed aroung her.

Elthanael battled Kongar, trying to get past the axe. Morrigana tried to join him, but the elemental held her in place. Halberds sprang up, piercing her wings, shredding the patagia. Tearing at the weapons with her talons, the hybrid fought for her freedom.

It will drown me in my own blood, she realized, yanking a strand of barb wire from her side. And Father will never forgive me for dying to an elemental. All elementals owe our family allegiance.

Yet she couldn't reach its consciousness. There was no presence to this elemental, no sentience, no matter how foreign. Whatever magic Kongar used to control the being had locked the mind away too far to sense. A flail bashed into her hip, and the young woman winced, her concentration broken.

"You may not have a mind, but you can still die." Grunting as she struggled against her attacker, Morrigana drove her black sword deep into the ground. DragonSoul screamed in delight, gorging on the energy of the elemental, before channeling it to its mistress.

Morrigana gasped at the onslaught of wild power. It had been decades since she'd fed upon elemental power, and had forgotten the difference. Her heart raced, and she quickly become lost in dreams of conquest and battle, slaughter and desperation. It felt good, and she allowed her consciousness to slip.

In her mind, she soared over endless fields of soldiers. Different eras and different races battled. Cries of pain and the clash of weapons rose to her ears, and her heart thrilled. I am the ultimate war beast. All will die for me. Morrigana unleashed a gout of flame, enveloping rank after rank of fighter in fire. Their screams increased, and she laughed triumphantly.

"Gana-tii!"

Elthanael's cry cut through her communion. Gasping, the half-dragon found herself on her knees, clasping the crossguard of her sword. Blood stained her scaly skin, filled her mouth, and called her back to the war elemental. Most of its power was gone, and it was trying to retreat.

Kongar clearly had no intention of retreating. In the half-second it took her to become aware of her surroundings, the fat thief had brought his axe to bear on her. The massive blade sliced through the air, prepared to cleave her skull.

The elf interposed himself between Morrigana and the axe. She commanded the elemental to attack Kongar, giving back the energy she had stolen, but there just wasn't time. Axe smashed through golden blade, sinking deep into the elf's shoulder. Shrapnel flew, blood splattered, and she screamed at her cousin's impending demise.

Crimson mud surged as conjured weapons burst toward Kongar. Morri released her sword, catching Elthanael as he collapsed. Kongar shrieked in surprise as his pet elemental attacked him. The hybrid didn't care, trusting that the elemental would kill its former master. She focused on the elf, surveying the damage done to him.

Dark blood welled from the wedge-shaped wound. Elthanael's breathing was strained, his face pale. Tears welled, blurring her vision. "No, no, no. I can't lose you."

She poured energy into him, and the elf suddenly smiled, weakly taking her hand. "He missed my heart. I'll live, sweet jewel." He coughed, blood staining his lips. "I'm glad I stopped him."

Her tears were almost immediately dried up. "But you lost your sword."

"Nothing compared to what your father would do if I let you die." Elthanael smiled again, gaining strength as she healed him. "I can always get a new sword."

Morrigana smiled, relieved that he wasn't seriously hurt. Kongar continued screaming, and the assassin glanced up at him. Free of control, the war elemental was having its revenge. It would kill the rotund man, and finish their job for them.

However, they were stuck. The Chaos storm had finished encircling the solar system, disrupting the flow of energy, making it impossible for her to open a portal through the aether.

"We'd better find shelter," Morrigana whispered, trying to reach her father to let him know of their success.

"Anywhere you go, I'll follow."

Hearthstone - Keep the Silver Hand strong

This week's gameplay. Something to pass the time and enjoy.

#FridayFlash - Immortal Journal 1

Yes, another journal-style short. What can I say? It lets me explore more of the thoughts and feelings of the character, and lets me skip over details, because people don't tend to be all descriptive in their journal entries.

And I like it.

~***~ 

Journal Entry 1 - This is only my fifteenth attempt to put word to paper. Fifteen sheets of paper wasted, three different pens broken. The rage has at least turned into simmering frustration. I think I can handle that. Just need to get my thoughts together so I can maybe understand what has happened and why I woke up in this hellhole.

And what a hellhole it is. No magic, no races but human, blue sky, blazing sun, NOTHING BUT MISERY! FUCK EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS PLACE!!!

--------

Must relax. Must not let them get to me. But how does one not feel anger when trapped in a mortal body, surrounded by mundane and headblind animals, and one doesn't even know why? How long am I supposed to be here? How am I supposed to contact any of my family or bosses? What is my mission? What is the point of anything anymore?

I know I'm not alone. I haven't actually seen another Immortal, but I know they're there. I can sense them on the thin waves of Universal energy that this pitiful excuse for a world has. I see reflections of them in the lore and legends of the native people.

They have to know I'm here. At least some of them. My initial wails set off a volcano when I woke. Can they have become so numb to real power that they can't hear me?

Of course, they could be prisoners too. They might not be able to come here.

Worse yet, they could be my captors. I hate - I hate i hate I HATE thinking about that possibility. It enrages me like nothing else. There aren't fucking words for how angry it makes me.

I can't write anymore tonight. But I've done what I can to empty my emotions, which is what my master taught me. Now I can approach my ordeal with a clearer head.

Freelancing my life

Recently, I changed my career. Job, rather. Just got too sick of spending my soul and effort on someone else's goals, and not getting appreciated for it. So I'm now going to work on my writing, my crafting, my art. Let my creativity flow, let it spring back to life.

Which means more posts, more updates, and a bit of a face-lift here and there. I'm not going to limit myself to just my writing, because I'm not just an author.

Here's hoping it doesn't come back to bite me in the butt.

Corgi tax:

The Crazy Cat Lady - video short story

Original story: https://ravencorinncarluk.blogspot.com/2011/02/fridayflash-crazy-cat-lady.html
My BandLabs music: https://www.bandlab.com/ravencorinn/crazy-cat-lady-af634?revId=f0e80550-0de7-e811-8607-00155d6531e1
All artwork is mine.

Hearthstone gameplay - Shaman and the Murlocs

Just kicking it in Hearthstone Tavern Brawl this week.

Pickers - video short story

My latest video story, based on the original #FridayFlash Pickers

That's my parrot talking in the background. Aleister just wouldn't give me quiet recording time, and I've delayed too long on this piece to wait until he settled down. So, you get to hear my little man helping me out.

The song is something I created over at BandLabs.com. Nothing terribly complicated, but I can still say I made it...even if I was just arranging loops.

As usual, the artwork was made by me, based on a photo of one of my roses.

The Shalafae Archives - Little Sister

A little something from Lord Shalafae's past. When you're eons old, there's a lot of history to delve.

***

Ulrin strode through quiet halls, sweat drying under his riding leathers. The spicy scent of argul clung to the young Sidhehan, making him wish he were still flying his reptile. The verlynth was wearing off, and the withdrawals began.

I'm almost out, he grumbled. Mother best bring some back from their little cruise. His stepmother's selfishness knew no bounds.

Dizziness sent him stumbling against a wall. The albino groaned, eyes squeezed shut. Weakness followed, reducing him to a frail and trembling young man.

Curse the Fates who decided my birth. I cannot die, will not die. His research was progressing well, revealing clues to a cure for his condition. Ulrin's father wouldn't mourn his passing, but his stepmother and little sister would. Kyra needs me.

The attack passed, but his strength didn't return. Breathing heavily, he remained against the wall. Blood taste filled his mouth, fluid trickling down the back of his throat. Wiping at his thin nose, Ulrin found he was bleeding. His vision wavered, and he clenched his fist.

Verlynth is strong, but the withdrawal is almost not worth it. Perhaps it's the way the dragon venom is refined. I should visit the gladiator pits, try it raw.

When Ulrin began walking, it was like a feeble old man. Argul riding took precise skill and focus of energy, and he'd burned himself up, using up the drug in his veins. He'd need to feed on someone's lifeforce to refuel before he took another dose.

I think I'll try Mother's little pixan girl. She won't be missed. He grinned, the first stirrings of arousal giving him a boost. And those legs would make a good necklace. Ulrin reached with his mind for the mortal slave.

He found nothing. There was only his little sister's mind, and she was closed off to him. None of the slaves were in his senses.

"Impossible," he growled, anger fueling him. The trembles stopped as he stalked toward Kyra. Impulsive and crazy, the young woman might have sent all the servants away.

As he crossed an atrium, death brushed his senses. Blood soaked the air, drawing his attention toward a low table. A slender hand barely peeked out. Stooping, Ulrin found a murdered servant.

The woman's throat was slashed, her eyes wide, face frozen in terror. Blood was drying, covering every inch of her.

With a sigh, he rose. No one else was on the grounds, and Kyra exhibited no signs of terror. The little girl still waited for him, excited. Making his way to her once more, Ulrin began drawing on death energy. He wanted to be stable when he confronted the little blond.

Kyra waited in the formal dining room. Mother had forbade them entrance, and would punish any who entered there. His little sister had no reason to be in that room. Ulrin's curiosity was further piqued.

More bodies were piled up, and less effort taken to hide them or clean up. The aroma of blood filled his senses, making him hunger. Sanguine intoxication was the name given by their ancestors; he just knew it was a lust brought on by violence.

That lust was in high form when he found Kyra.

She smiled brightly as he entered the dining room. Crimson stained her from head to toe. "Hello, Brother," the young Sidhehan greeted, swinging her feet. The bodies strewn about the great hall belied her cuteness.

Arousal and anger kept Ulrin standing, kept the weakness at bay. "What have you done?" he snapped.

Kyra's smile never faltered. "I thought you'd be in a good mood. Argul that feisty today?" She grabbed a long plait of hair, bringing her knife off the table.

"No. It's my baby sister who's being feisty." He strode further into the room, crossing his arms.

She laughed, cutting at her hair. "I'd hardly call this feisty." Blond strands fell in a shower to the table. She closed bright blue eyes as she lopped off the remaining tresses.

He growled briefly. "You don't consider this feisty?" Ulrin gestured at the dead around them. "And what are you doing to your hair?" Growing it back would be the work of a moment, but that didn't stop him from mourning the lost tresses.

Finished with her hair cut, Kyra leaned back, bracing her arms behind her. Wisps hung around her, stuck on her dress, piled all around her lithe frame. "Do you not like it? It's supposed to make you take a new look at me." She held his gaze, licking her lips.

"Why should I look?" He came another step closer.

She sighed heavily, exasperation pouring from her. "Because I'm sick to death of you thinking I'm a wee girl."

Ulrin froze, anger dissipating. Her need reached to him, and he examined her, reassessing his younger sister. What he found astounded him.

Blue eyes and blond hair were from their birth mother, golden and beautiful. Rosy cheeks and flush lips were signs of the health he never had. Born of an unquiet grave, Kyra always looked at the world with adult eyes, with knowledge she shouldn't have.

Now her body matched her eyes.

Just past nubile into the flush of womanhood, her breasts were full, hips round, legs long. Newly shorn hair was on an even line with her square jaw, her smile defining triangular cheekbones. Kyra was gorgeous, no longer a baby.

"When did this happen?" They were always connected, closer than any of the other siblings. Kyra would know exactly what he meant.

His sister laughed. No more a childish giggle, it was an adult's chuckle. "It happened while you were watching. You're just too focused on finding a cure. For a very long time."

Amazement at her transformation was forced aside as weakness returned. "You think I might have a reason for my focus?" Vision blurred, and he struggled for breath.

Kyra left the table, taking him in her arms. "Of course you do. Once you find it, things go better." She ran a hand through his hair. "Which is why I did this."

His knees weakened, the emotional surge done with, leaving him once more to his breakdown. I need my verlynth. I need fresh energy. Then I can deal with Kyra and her little outburst. The blood aroma made his salivate, and he clutched at her.

"Feed, dearest brother." Her whisper was soft, breath hot against his ear. Hairs rose along his arms.

"On who? You killed anyone I might have used." Ulrin kept his eyes closed, hating the way he couldn't focus when the withdrawals hit.

Kyra ran her nails down the back of his neck. "No I haven't."

The Sidhehan groaned, every nerve suddenly on fire. Hunger roared to life, opening familiar channels. Senses sought any source of life; what they found was the blazing soul of his sister.

"I cannot," he muttered, unable to push her away, unable to pry his hands from her supple back. "I've never fed from another Sidhehan."

"You feed from many after you come back. But you leave soon, and we only had this one chance." Kyra was shifting into her timeless state, where her tenses mixed. She spoke from the future, with no sense of confusion. "To succeed at everything, you must have me at your side. So I set this up."

Fires burned inside, twisting him. "I can't hurt you. You must leave." His arms tightened around her waist.

"Yes, you can. You do." She laughed, tipping his head back. He opened his eyes, staring into beautiful blue irises. They glittered with love and adoration. "I love you," she whispered.

Ulrin accepted her kiss, parting his lips for her. He opened to his sister, opened his soul to her, forging a bond to last an eternity.