((Authorial apologies for sequencing; this post takes place the day prior to the fire))
He didn’t hear the knocking at his office doorway until it became a pounding. Tearing his tired eyes away from the data-screen and toward the door, he sighed.
“Come in.”
The door opened to reveal Dr. Ashleigh Vardün, who looked equally as haggard as the Governor.
Gently shutting the door behind her, she slumped down into one of the chairs across from Matt’s desk and began tugging on a stray lock of hair that curled down to her cheek.
“We have the latest results.”
“And?”
Dr. Vardün paused, knowing the Governor wasn’t going to like her answer, just as he hadn’t the numerous times she’d been to this office in the past few months.
“Still nothing.”
Matt just stared ahead, past the doctor, to the far office wall. They sat in silence for several minutes before his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a few moments, only speaking to say “thank you” before hanging up. His mouth curled into a tight frown as he looked out his office window and toward the cloudless sky hanging over the cool day.
Dr. Vardün finally broke the stillness, “What?”
With another sigh, Matt slowly rose from his chair and pointed out the window.
“See that?”
“See what?”
“The sun, and the lack of clouds.”
Confused, Dr. Vardün stood, too. “Yes.”
“Then explain to me,” said the Governor, his shoulders sagging further with each word, “how, a few miles away, it’s snowing.”
Dr. Vardün said nothing. Another link in a strange series of events she couldn’t explain was as frustrating to her as it was to Matt. Like the Governor, spent several moments staring out the window with a feeling of defeat. All these weeks and no answers. Worse, the subtle shifts in climate and weather behavior were becoming more and more pronounced as time passed.
She stood, stared, thought, and fought the impulse to let tears of frustration flow. She couldn’t say how long she stood there, nor when the Governor took his leave. When she turned to face him, he was gone.
Spiraling
Moderator: Staff
Matt was angry. What good were they, these scientists? Climatologists and weather-experts and the like. Not a damn bit of good, not when it mattered. How many weeks had it been? How much data had they, nevermind he, poured over? And still no answers? It was unacceptable. He was angry with them. He was even more furious with himself.
The Jeep’s power-plant hummed happily as Matt sped toward Star’s End at a very unsafe speed. He’d had every squadron in the RASG running non-stop sorties for two weeks straight. He’d personally flown an average of four missions a day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for more than a two-hour stretch. And the harder they tried to uncover the mystery, its secrecy only deepened.
Whatever had caused the fundamental pattern shifts, whatever had killed Miles Jaffey, it was in no hurry to give up its secrets or reveal itself. Racing along the road, Matt fought to keep his eyes from closing. It would be so easy to sleep. But there was too much work to be done.
-----
"Lambda One, Lambda One, this is SWACS Patrol. Come in, over."
Matt was flying solo; the night sky crisp and clear, at least at his present location, allowing Rhydin’s moons to shine brilliantly. Whereas most of the RASG pilots were running in pairs with complementary equipment, Matt was attempting to single-handedly cover the ground (and space) untouched by the other patrols. Instead of cramped inside the small cockpit, with his knee joints aching and his endless fight to stay awake, he should have been nestled against Koy’s backside, arms wrapped around her belly for warmth and the comfort of her presence as they both slept.
Keying his mike, Matt pulled his ship into a lazy left bank as it slid through the atmosphere several miles above the earth.
"This is Lambda One. Go."
"Roger that, sir. Alpha and Epsilon wings have finished their patrols and are heading back toward Star’s End. You should cross positions soon; you’ll be close enough to data-dump to each other’s computers. R&A sa…hold on, sir, we’re receiving a lot of inbound traffic on the one-three."
Matt considered swapping to 1-3, the low-frequency ultra-band channel that carried important ship-to-ship traffic during RASG missions. Continuing to skirt the atmosphere’s edge, he decided to wait until the SWACS operator returned.
Static cackled in his ear for several more seconds before the voice from the SWACS spoke again. Despite his fatigue, he immediately picked up on the change in the voice and the concern it betrayed.
"Sir, we’re receiving reports of a fast-growing wildfire near Rhydin. The epicenter looks to be approximately fifteen-miles from the city. It’s moving quickly. It looks like winds are really picking up in that area. We’ve trained long-range sensors over that way and I can’t make heads or tails of these readings."
Wide awake now, Matt grimaced and nosed his fighter down, jamming the throttle forward.
"I’m headed there now. Was there any warning?"
"I don’t know, sir. There’s a logging encampment in the area, but it’s too far away to have originated the blaze. Maybe a lightning strike? We’re trying to pinpoint what happened."
"Keep at it. Check in every two minutes with me." The ground was rushing to meet him quickly, and Matt leveled out a few thousand feet above sea-level. The transition from clear sky to clouds and snow occurred in an instant, and he slowed the fighter down to a crawl as he approached the orange inferno and smoke rising skyward in several columns.
The fire seemed to grow before his eyes and his fighter, at the excessively low speed at which he was flying, was buffeted by the winds that propelled embers and flames to fuel with great effectiveness. Rhydin was still several miles away, but the proximity made him nervous.
“SWACS, how long until this, possibly, reaches the city?”
There was a momentary pause before the reply.
"It’s hard to say, sir. It entirely depends on the winds, which right now are fairly unpredictable. It’s changing directions every few minutes."
Matt didn’t quite believe the SWACS operator, hearing hesitation in the man’s voice. Tired as he was, he knew he couldn’t entirely trust his own judgment. Still, he had to try and take charge of this situation as best he could.
Adopting his days-of-combat Colonel-giving-orders tone, he keyed his mike. "Roger that. Put me through to Pemberton."
The SWACS operator replied a few seconds later.
"I can’t reach her, sir. But I’ve got your Mission Coordinator down at Star’s End on standby."
"Understood, link me over. Scrambled channel."
"Aye, sir, one moment."
When the frequency switched, and the MC piped through, Matt wasted no time.
"Relay down to Chase and Robyn that I want their emergency units up now. We’ve trained the Firebees for this. I want the 301st up and over this thing now. And tell Alyson to step up the Vanguard’s patrols and tell her she damn well better not complain about it. The 103rd’s not stretched that thin. We’ve got real danger, and I need more data, quickly. I want Chase Jones and the 209th running backup for the 301st, but more importantly, I need them preparing for evac. Get the freighters warmed and prepped. If we need to, we’ll get as many people out of the city as we can."
Matt took one more look at the chaos below, jerked the flight-stick, and whipped the fighter around, back toward Star’s End. His thoughts were invaded by images of Koy and Thia, sound asleep, completely unaware of the danger so close by. Koy with legs stretched across the bed, hair spread like a wild mane over the pillows, occupying every inch of space that she could with her husband away. Thia, nestled in her crib and sleeping the peaceful sleep that only babies can, snug and secure with her blankets and the knowledge her mother was near.
He tried to push the image from his mind, forcing himself to fly directly to Star’s End instead of his own home, where he wanted to be more than anything. His voice threatened to crack, but he kept his commander’s tone.
"I’m getting back to the city before word of this gets out and there’s widespread panic. I need to address the people. Get someone to find me some decent clothes and have my Jeep ready the second I land. We’re running out of time."
The Jeep’s power-plant hummed happily as Matt sped toward Star’s End at a very unsafe speed. He’d had every squadron in the RASG running non-stop sorties for two weeks straight. He’d personally flown an average of four missions a day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for more than a two-hour stretch. And the harder they tried to uncover the mystery, its secrecy only deepened.
Whatever had caused the fundamental pattern shifts, whatever had killed Miles Jaffey, it was in no hurry to give up its secrets or reveal itself. Racing along the road, Matt fought to keep his eyes from closing. It would be so easy to sleep. But there was too much work to be done.
-----
"Lambda One, Lambda One, this is SWACS Patrol. Come in, over."
Matt was flying solo; the night sky crisp and clear, at least at his present location, allowing Rhydin’s moons to shine brilliantly. Whereas most of the RASG pilots were running in pairs with complementary equipment, Matt was attempting to single-handedly cover the ground (and space) untouched by the other patrols. Instead of cramped inside the small cockpit, with his knee joints aching and his endless fight to stay awake, he should have been nestled against Koy’s backside, arms wrapped around her belly for warmth and the comfort of her presence as they both slept.
Keying his mike, Matt pulled his ship into a lazy left bank as it slid through the atmosphere several miles above the earth.
"This is Lambda One. Go."
"Roger that, sir. Alpha and Epsilon wings have finished their patrols and are heading back toward Star’s End. You should cross positions soon; you’ll be close enough to data-dump to each other’s computers. R&A sa…hold on, sir, we’re receiving a lot of inbound traffic on the one-three."
Matt considered swapping to 1-3, the low-frequency ultra-band channel that carried important ship-to-ship traffic during RASG missions. Continuing to skirt the atmosphere’s edge, he decided to wait until the SWACS operator returned.
Static cackled in his ear for several more seconds before the voice from the SWACS spoke again. Despite his fatigue, he immediately picked up on the change in the voice and the concern it betrayed.
"Sir, we’re receiving reports of a fast-growing wildfire near Rhydin. The epicenter looks to be approximately fifteen-miles from the city. It’s moving quickly. It looks like winds are really picking up in that area. We’ve trained long-range sensors over that way and I can’t make heads or tails of these readings."
Wide awake now, Matt grimaced and nosed his fighter down, jamming the throttle forward.
"I’m headed there now. Was there any warning?"
"I don’t know, sir. There’s a logging encampment in the area, but it’s too far away to have originated the blaze. Maybe a lightning strike? We’re trying to pinpoint what happened."
"Keep at it. Check in every two minutes with me." The ground was rushing to meet him quickly, and Matt leveled out a few thousand feet above sea-level. The transition from clear sky to clouds and snow occurred in an instant, and he slowed the fighter down to a crawl as he approached the orange inferno and smoke rising skyward in several columns.
The fire seemed to grow before his eyes and his fighter, at the excessively low speed at which he was flying, was buffeted by the winds that propelled embers and flames to fuel with great effectiveness. Rhydin was still several miles away, but the proximity made him nervous.
“SWACS, how long until this, possibly, reaches the city?”
There was a momentary pause before the reply.
"It’s hard to say, sir. It entirely depends on the winds, which right now are fairly unpredictable. It’s changing directions every few minutes."
Matt didn’t quite believe the SWACS operator, hearing hesitation in the man’s voice. Tired as he was, he knew he couldn’t entirely trust his own judgment. Still, he had to try and take charge of this situation as best he could.
Adopting his days-of-combat Colonel-giving-orders tone, he keyed his mike. "Roger that. Put me through to Pemberton."
The SWACS operator replied a few seconds later.
"I can’t reach her, sir. But I’ve got your Mission Coordinator down at Star’s End on standby."
"Understood, link me over. Scrambled channel."
"Aye, sir, one moment."
When the frequency switched, and the MC piped through, Matt wasted no time.
"Relay down to Chase and Robyn that I want their emergency units up now. We’ve trained the Firebees for this. I want the 301st up and over this thing now. And tell Alyson to step up the Vanguard’s patrols and tell her she damn well better not complain about it. The 103rd’s not stretched that thin. We’ve got real danger, and I need more data, quickly. I want Chase Jones and the 209th running backup for the 301st, but more importantly, I need them preparing for evac. Get the freighters warmed and prepped. If we need to, we’ll get as many people out of the city as we can."
Matt took one more look at the chaos below, jerked the flight-stick, and whipped the fighter around, back toward Star’s End. His thoughts were invaded by images of Koy and Thia, sound asleep, completely unaware of the danger so close by. Koy with legs stretched across the bed, hair spread like a wild mane over the pillows, occupying every inch of space that she could with her husband away. Thia, nestled in her crib and sleeping the peaceful sleep that only babies can, snug and secure with her blankets and the knowledge her mother was near.
He tried to push the image from his mind, forcing himself to fly directly to Star’s End instead of his own home, where he wanted to be more than anything. His voice threatened to crack, but he kept his commander’s tone.
"I’m getting back to the city before word of this gets out and there’s widespread panic. I need to address the people. Get someone to find me some decent clothes and have my Jeep ready the second I land. We’re running out of time."
“Sit down,” pleaded the makeup artist. “You look like absolute hell. We can’t let you go on camera like this.”
Despite her misgivings, Matt pushed his way past the artist. “No time, no time,” he mumbled, not particularly wanting to pay any attention to the people who were supposed to make him look “presentable” in front of Rhydin’s citizenry.
Upon returning to the city, he’d stopped long enough to personally communicate with his staff, alert senior Watch Commanders, and speak with Robyn Pemberton, Alyson Vokoun, and Chase Jones, the RASG squadron leaders. He apprised each of them of the situation, the potential seriousness, and the need to act swiftly without causing an uproar of fear. He waited impatiently for dawn to arrive, by which time smoke from the fire had broached the city walls. Carried by the wind, ash was already beginning to collect in a thin black-and-white veil on the streets.
He didn’t need to see his reflection in a mirror to know that his eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark purplish bags that screamed of over-taxation and fatigue. Usually clean-shaven, especially making a speech, Matt hadn’t bothered to take time to shave. Stubble covered his face and neck and he’d let his usually short-cropped hair go uncut for at least a month.
Stopping long enough to make sure his shirt was tucked, Matt tried to assume as calm and collected a demeanor as possible. Nevermind that he was running totally off the cuff; he didn’t even have a prepared speech to give to the bevy of media waiting in the next room.
Walking onto the stage, Matt took his place behind the podium, looked out over the throng of reporters and into the myriad of recording devices, and began to speak.
Matt's mouth moved as the words came to him and the Governor didn't seem to realize the points during which he misspoke or said words incorrectly.
“Citizens of Rhydin,
Over the past several months, the weather patterns in area surrounding this city and spanning far beyond its borders have been behaving strangely. Our scientists brought this to my attention once they noticed the pattern shifts and, in the ensuing weeks, we’ve worked tireless to uncover the mystery behind them.”
For the most part, by themselves these shifts seem benign. A slight drop or increase in temperature over a period of time, alterations in the jet-streams, oceanic currents changing by degrees, things of that nature. Taken as a whole, our scientists, including Rhydin’s Chief Climatologist, Doctor Ashleigh Vardün and her team, believe that we’re in the midst of an inexplicable and fundamental shift in, if not climate, than perhaps environment.
Too, we’ve encountered,” here Matt paused, trying to find the proper way to phrase the words, “more sinist…excuse me, less benign occurences and more noticable behaviors. We believe that whatever’s going on is directly responsible for the death of Miles Jaffey, the RASG pilot I spoke to you about several weeks ago, who was killed while on patrol by jets of ocean water shooting up into the sky by no means that we’ve been able to uncover. Too, despite the relatively fine weather we’ve been having over the city these last few days, the weather less than twenty-miles from here is quite different. Sun here, clouds, rain and snow, there. There’s no reason for it that we can determine.
Now,” and here, Matt raised a cautionary hand, “some of you, especially given recent events, may seek to point the finger at magic somehow being responsible for all of this. I assure you, we’ve explored that possibility and have seen no evidence to support such a claim. The amount of magic necessary to change things in such fundamental ways would be enormous and would leave trails. I’m confident this isn’t a result of magic.”
Matt paused again, looking at several of the cameras held by crews and those hovering near the podium.
“I’ve not addressed these issues with you before as, simply put, we’ve had no answers to give. We still don’t. The reason I tell you now is because answers are not forthcoming, and we can’t know when or if we’ll have them. Clearly, it’s your right to know and be fully informed of what’s going on in the place you’ve chosen to live.”
Despite the extreme inappropriateness of the moment, Matt couldn’t fight back the yawn that his body demanded he take. Covering his mouth, he at least attempted to stifle it. In an attempt to play off the faux pas, he cracked a small smile.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a long night and I’ve been neglecting what my wife teases me is my non-beauty sleep.”
Clearing his throat, he continued, walking out from behind the podium as was becoming his custom during his speeches.
“Now, in addition to everything I’ve said, I come to the most important reason I’m speaking to you now. By this time of morning, many of you have probably been outside or at least looked out of your windows. The overhead smoke and ash is due to a wildfire that began a few hours ago less than twenty-miles from here. Winds in the area are shifting rapidly for no explainable reason, giving us reason to suspect that the fire, or at least the behavior affecting it, is directly related to what I’ve just been telling you all about.
Let me stress that, as of right now, the city is in no immediate danger, other than perhaps the air quality. The RASG, as I speak to you, are flying sorties over the fire in efforts to both retard its progress and to contain it within a set border. I’ve also dispatched specially trained contingents of the City Guard to assist with efforts from the ground. Please, do not attempt to approach the forest as you might hinder the efforts to contain and suppress the blaze. Rest assured, we’re on top of the situation and will broadcast updates to you as we receive them. Shortly, I myself will take to the air to ensure the operation’s running smoothly and to address any more problems should they occur. As such, I have no time for questions, but will hold another public address press conference as soon as I’m able.
Thank you, I’ll speak with you all again soon.”
Immediately heading back to where he’d first entered the stage, the Governor ignored the numerous simultaneous questions shouted out at him by the media. Walking as fast as he could toward the building’s exit, he was followed by several equally fast moving members of his staff who peppered him with questions of their own.
Emerging from the building, he paused long enough at the doorway to turn and say, “I’m sorry everyone. No time. I have to get back to Star’s End.”
Breaking into a run, he crossed the parking lot, jumped into his Jeep, and sped away while the group of confused and stunned staff tried to make sense of the speech they’d just heard.
Glancing in his rearview mirror, Matt watched the group remain clustered around the doorway as they rapidly faded into the distance.
The preceding transcript of Governor Simon’s speech has been made part of the public record and is available at the Rhydin Public Library. Visual and auditory records of the speech are also publically accessible.
Despite her misgivings, Matt pushed his way past the artist. “No time, no time,” he mumbled, not particularly wanting to pay any attention to the people who were supposed to make him look “presentable” in front of Rhydin’s citizenry.
Upon returning to the city, he’d stopped long enough to personally communicate with his staff, alert senior Watch Commanders, and speak with Robyn Pemberton, Alyson Vokoun, and Chase Jones, the RASG squadron leaders. He apprised each of them of the situation, the potential seriousness, and the need to act swiftly without causing an uproar of fear. He waited impatiently for dawn to arrive, by which time smoke from the fire had broached the city walls. Carried by the wind, ash was already beginning to collect in a thin black-and-white veil on the streets.
He didn’t need to see his reflection in a mirror to know that his eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark purplish bags that screamed of over-taxation and fatigue. Usually clean-shaven, especially making a speech, Matt hadn’t bothered to take time to shave. Stubble covered his face and neck and he’d let his usually short-cropped hair go uncut for at least a month.
Stopping long enough to make sure his shirt was tucked, Matt tried to assume as calm and collected a demeanor as possible. Nevermind that he was running totally off the cuff; he didn’t even have a prepared speech to give to the bevy of media waiting in the next room.
Walking onto the stage, Matt took his place behind the podium, looked out over the throng of reporters and into the myriad of recording devices, and began to speak.
Matt's mouth moved as the words came to him and the Governor didn't seem to realize the points during which he misspoke or said words incorrectly.
“Citizens of Rhydin,
Over the past several months, the weather patterns in area surrounding this city and spanning far beyond its borders have been behaving strangely. Our scientists brought this to my attention once they noticed the pattern shifts and, in the ensuing weeks, we’ve worked tireless to uncover the mystery behind them.”
For the most part, by themselves these shifts seem benign. A slight drop or increase in temperature over a period of time, alterations in the jet-streams, oceanic currents changing by degrees, things of that nature. Taken as a whole, our scientists, including Rhydin’s Chief Climatologist, Doctor Ashleigh Vardün and her team, believe that we’re in the midst of an inexplicable and fundamental shift in, if not climate, than perhaps environment.
Too, we’ve encountered,” here Matt paused, trying to find the proper way to phrase the words, “more sinist…excuse me, less benign occurences and more noticable behaviors. We believe that whatever’s going on is directly responsible for the death of Miles Jaffey, the RASG pilot I spoke to you about several weeks ago, who was killed while on patrol by jets of ocean water shooting up into the sky by no means that we’ve been able to uncover. Too, despite the relatively fine weather we’ve been having over the city these last few days, the weather less than twenty-miles from here is quite different. Sun here, clouds, rain and snow, there. There’s no reason for it that we can determine.
Now,” and here, Matt raised a cautionary hand, “some of you, especially given recent events, may seek to point the finger at magic somehow being responsible for all of this. I assure you, we’ve explored that possibility and have seen no evidence to support such a claim. The amount of magic necessary to change things in such fundamental ways would be enormous and would leave trails. I’m confident this isn’t a result of magic.”
Matt paused again, looking at several of the cameras held by crews and those hovering near the podium.
“I’ve not addressed these issues with you before as, simply put, we’ve had no answers to give. We still don’t. The reason I tell you now is because answers are not forthcoming, and we can’t know when or if we’ll have them. Clearly, it’s your right to know and be fully informed of what’s going on in the place you’ve chosen to live.”
Despite the extreme inappropriateness of the moment, Matt couldn’t fight back the yawn that his body demanded he take. Covering his mouth, he at least attempted to stifle it. In an attempt to play off the faux pas, he cracked a small smile.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a long night and I’ve been neglecting what my wife teases me is my non-beauty sleep.”
Clearing his throat, he continued, walking out from behind the podium as was becoming his custom during his speeches.
“Now, in addition to everything I’ve said, I come to the most important reason I’m speaking to you now. By this time of morning, many of you have probably been outside or at least looked out of your windows. The overhead smoke and ash is due to a wildfire that began a few hours ago less than twenty-miles from here. Winds in the area are shifting rapidly for no explainable reason, giving us reason to suspect that the fire, or at least the behavior affecting it, is directly related to what I’ve just been telling you all about.
Let me stress that, as of right now, the city is in no immediate danger, other than perhaps the air quality. The RASG, as I speak to you, are flying sorties over the fire in efforts to both retard its progress and to contain it within a set border. I’ve also dispatched specially trained contingents of the City Guard to assist with efforts from the ground. Please, do not attempt to approach the forest as you might hinder the efforts to contain and suppress the blaze. Rest assured, we’re on top of the situation and will broadcast updates to you as we receive them. Shortly, I myself will take to the air to ensure the operation’s running smoothly and to address any more problems should they occur. As such, I have no time for questions, but will hold another public address press conference as soon as I’m able.
Thank you, I’ll speak with you all again soon.”
Immediately heading back to where he’d first entered the stage, the Governor ignored the numerous simultaneous questions shouted out at him by the media. Walking as fast as he could toward the building’s exit, he was followed by several equally fast moving members of his staff who peppered him with questions of their own.
Emerging from the building, he paused long enough at the doorway to turn and say, “I’m sorry everyone. No time. I have to get back to Star’s End.”
Breaking into a run, he crossed the parking lot, jumped into his Jeep, and sped away while the group of confused and stunned staff tried to make sense of the speech they’d just heard.
Glancing in his rearview mirror, Matt watched the group remain clustered around the doorway as they rapidly faded into the distance.
The preceding transcript of Governor Simon’s speech has been made part of the public record and is available at the Rhydin Public Library. Visual and auditory records of the speech are also publically accessible.
-
Koyliak
- Seasoned Adventurer
- Fashion Police
- Posts: 425
- Joined: Sat Apr 03, 2004 11:14 pm
- Location: The Heavenly Boutique - Where Dreams Become Realities
Demons of Our Own Design (part 2)
There is not a single moment that does not consume you and those around you who are close to you, not a moment in which you are not, must be, a destroyer: the most harmless walk costs a thousand poor worms their lives, a footstep shatters the toilsome edifices of the ants and stamps a small world into a shameful grave… And so I stagger on in horror. Heaven and earth and their weaving forces about me: I see nothing but an eternally devouring, eternally cud-chewing monster.
--Goethe
“The wind may blow low through the mountains, the storm may roll through with the clouds; tomorrow is never promised, but I’ll love my baby right now.” Zoey’s sweet voice filled the upstairs room of the Boutique recently converted into a nursery as she sang her tiny charge to sleep. Zoey kissed the tufts of Thia’s light brown hair before gently setting the infant down in her crib to nap.
“Right now sounds downright divine, darling,” Charlie Corwin leaned forward in the doorway with an easy grin on his boyishly handsome face.
“Charlie! You know you can’t be here now, I’m working!” Zoey whispered the exclamation, moving away from the crib and swatting a hand as if to shoo him away. The giant smile on her fair face at the sight of him however said otherwise.
Charlie grabbed Zoey’s hand and spun her once under his arm before pulling her in close. “It’s not my fault. I heard an angel singing up here and had to come see for myself.”
Zoey blushed but made no move to free herself from his embrace. She tipped his chin down with her thumb to get a better look at him. “I’m not an angel, Charlie, but if I were, what were you hoping to find here, absolution for your sins? Maybe---" Charlie silenced any further jests with a soft kiss.
When Zoey’s hazel eyes fluttered open Charlie smiled down at her as he brushed several strands of hair behind her ear. “No retort?”
Charlie grinned. “I thought it would be too easy if I said something along the lines of ‘if loving you is a sin I don’t want to be right.’ I also didn’t want you to smack me.”
Zoey laughed, twisting around to check that Thia still slept in her crib. She took a step back into the room letting one hand drift down his arm before breaking contact. “But seriously, Charlie, you know you can’t be here. Did anyone see you come up?”
“Only Tula and she didn’t seem to mind me being here. It’s not as if the boss lady is likely to be back soon.” Charlie followed behind Zoey to peer down at the sleeping child. “Poor kid. Between a father off keeping the city from burning down at his feet and a mother off designing and doing God knows what I wouldn’t be surprised if she grows up thinking you and Tula are her only family.”
Zoey frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know that’s not fair, Charlie. Mr. Simon and Koy both love Thia dearly.”
“Well I love you dearly and all I know is that you spend more time babysitting than learning about fashion or going out on dates with me. Do you call that fair?”
Zoey shook her head. The frown that formed was too heavy for her delicate features to be carrying. “It’s more than that, Charlie. Koy…it hasn’t been easy for Koy.” What bits and pieces she had gathered about Koy’s past from Tula and the old biddies softened Zoey’s already generous heart to spending more time with Thia than a thread and needle whenever Koy asked.
Charlie took another glance at the sleeping child and snorted. “Now that’s a load of bull if I’ve ever heard one. It’s not exactly a challenge to love a cute baby.”
“Koy loves her, Charlie, it’s only…it’s only I think she’s…” Zoey had never fully analyzed Koy’s need at times to pull back from her daughter and escape to wherever she ran off to during the day. “I think Koy’s scared of that sometimes.”
Before Charlie could further poke holes in Zoey’s reasoning a third voice interrupted. “I’m rather positive I don’t pay ye ta speculate on my feelin’s, bub.” A red-faced Koy glowered at Zoey and Charlie from the doorway.
“You should be thanking Zoey for all the hours she spends taking care of your kid instead of her own career!” Charlie came to Zoey’s defense but he didn’t move from his current spot. He might not have known much about Koy’s past but the rumors about her propensity to hit first and apologize later hadn’t escaped him.
“Charlie don’t…” Zoey pleaded with him, not wanting him to make matters worse. From the crib came Thia’s piercing cry.
“I don’t know wha ye’re even doin’ up here but ye’ve got a three second warnin’ ta get out,” a dangerous edge lurked in Koy’s voice as she pointed at Charlie.
Zoey squeezed his elbow as she spoke barely above a whisper. “Go Charlie, I’ll see you later.”
Scowling, Charlie kissed Zoey’s cheek and stormed out past Koy. He tried not to flinch under the threatening glare of her dark green eyes. Zoey opened her mouth to mollify Koy and turned to pick Thia up but the elf stopped her. “Ye’ve said ‘nough fer one day. Go downstairs and find somethin’ useful ta do in the shop tha keeps ye out of my sight.” Zoey lowered her head and hurried out of the room leaving Koy to lift the crying child out of the crib herself.
“Who knew you were so easily unnerved by the words of young lovers.” MoonBeryl could not let the opportunity to add his smug commentary to the situation slip by.
Koy gritted her teeth. “Get out.”
“Now, now, can you really afford to further alienate your friends and allies?” He took great pleasure in taunting her. Koy had no patience for hearing his thoughts in her head.
“GET OUT!” Thia howled in fear at her mother’s yelling. Koy sighed and held the child close, rocking her back and forth.
Being privy to Koy’s thoughts whether she voiced them or not made the Opal pause when he heard what crossed the elf’s mind as she looked down at the tear-streaked face of her daughter. “You envy her?” It did not happen as often these days but Koy’s logic had managed to escape him.
“Get. Out.” Koy projected the command to him without speaking it. He knew when to pick his battles. This was not one of them. He dropped the subject and left her alone, for now.
Koy rocked the whimpering child and frowned to herself. Both Zoey and the Opal had been right. Koy was scared of how much she loved her daughter and envious of how freely Thia could express everything and anything she felt without fearing the consequences.
--Goethe
“The wind may blow low through the mountains, the storm may roll through with the clouds; tomorrow is never promised, but I’ll love my baby right now.” Zoey’s sweet voice filled the upstairs room of the Boutique recently converted into a nursery as she sang her tiny charge to sleep. Zoey kissed the tufts of Thia’s light brown hair before gently setting the infant down in her crib to nap.
“Right now sounds downright divine, darling,” Charlie Corwin leaned forward in the doorway with an easy grin on his boyishly handsome face.
“Charlie! You know you can’t be here now, I’m working!” Zoey whispered the exclamation, moving away from the crib and swatting a hand as if to shoo him away. The giant smile on her fair face at the sight of him however said otherwise.
Charlie grabbed Zoey’s hand and spun her once under his arm before pulling her in close. “It’s not my fault. I heard an angel singing up here and had to come see for myself.”
Zoey blushed but made no move to free herself from his embrace. She tipped his chin down with her thumb to get a better look at him. “I’m not an angel, Charlie, but if I were, what were you hoping to find here, absolution for your sins? Maybe---" Charlie silenced any further jests with a soft kiss.
When Zoey’s hazel eyes fluttered open Charlie smiled down at her as he brushed several strands of hair behind her ear. “No retort?”
Charlie grinned. “I thought it would be too easy if I said something along the lines of ‘if loving you is a sin I don’t want to be right.’ I also didn’t want you to smack me.”
Zoey laughed, twisting around to check that Thia still slept in her crib. She took a step back into the room letting one hand drift down his arm before breaking contact. “But seriously, Charlie, you know you can’t be here. Did anyone see you come up?”
“Only Tula and she didn’t seem to mind me being here. It’s not as if the boss lady is likely to be back soon.” Charlie followed behind Zoey to peer down at the sleeping child. “Poor kid. Between a father off keeping the city from burning down at his feet and a mother off designing and doing God knows what I wouldn’t be surprised if she grows up thinking you and Tula are her only family.”
Zoey frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know that’s not fair, Charlie. Mr. Simon and Koy both love Thia dearly.”
“Well I love you dearly and all I know is that you spend more time babysitting than learning about fashion or going out on dates with me. Do you call that fair?”
Zoey shook her head. The frown that formed was too heavy for her delicate features to be carrying. “It’s more than that, Charlie. Koy…it hasn’t been easy for Koy.” What bits and pieces she had gathered about Koy’s past from Tula and the old biddies softened Zoey’s already generous heart to spending more time with Thia than a thread and needle whenever Koy asked.
Charlie took another glance at the sleeping child and snorted. “Now that’s a load of bull if I’ve ever heard one. It’s not exactly a challenge to love a cute baby.”
“Koy loves her, Charlie, it’s only…it’s only I think she’s…” Zoey had never fully analyzed Koy’s need at times to pull back from her daughter and escape to wherever she ran off to during the day. “I think Koy’s scared of that sometimes.”
Before Charlie could further poke holes in Zoey’s reasoning a third voice interrupted. “I’m rather positive I don’t pay ye ta speculate on my feelin’s, bub.” A red-faced Koy glowered at Zoey and Charlie from the doorway.
“You should be thanking Zoey for all the hours she spends taking care of your kid instead of her own career!” Charlie came to Zoey’s defense but he didn’t move from his current spot. He might not have known much about Koy’s past but the rumors about her propensity to hit first and apologize later hadn’t escaped him.
“Charlie don’t…” Zoey pleaded with him, not wanting him to make matters worse. From the crib came Thia’s piercing cry.
“I don’t know wha ye’re even doin’ up here but ye’ve got a three second warnin’ ta get out,” a dangerous edge lurked in Koy’s voice as she pointed at Charlie.
Zoey squeezed his elbow as she spoke barely above a whisper. “Go Charlie, I’ll see you later.”
Scowling, Charlie kissed Zoey’s cheek and stormed out past Koy. He tried not to flinch under the threatening glare of her dark green eyes. Zoey opened her mouth to mollify Koy and turned to pick Thia up but the elf stopped her. “Ye’ve said ‘nough fer one day. Go downstairs and find somethin’ useful ta do in the shop tha keeps ye out of my sight.” Zoey lowered her head and hurried out of the room leaving Koy to lift the crying child out of the crib herself.
“Who knew you were so easily unnerved by the words of young lovers.” MoonBeryl could not let the opportunity to add his smug commentary to the situation slip by.
Koy gritted her teeth. “Get out.”
“Now, now, can you really afford to further alienate your friends and allies?” He took great pleasure in taunting her. Koy had no patience for hearing his thoughts in her head.
“GET OUT!” Thia howled in fear at her mother’s yelling. Koy sighed and held the child close, rocking her back and forth.
Being privy to Koy’s thoughts whether she voiced them or not made the Opal pause when he heard what crossed the elf’s mind as she looked down at the tear-streaked face of her daughter. “You envy her?” It did not happen as often these days but Koy’s logic had managed to escape him.
“Get. Out.” Koy projected the command to him without speaking it. He knew when to pick his battles. This was not one of them. He dropped the subject and left her alone, for now.
Koy rocked the whimpering child and frowned to herself. Both Zoey and the Opal had been right. Koy was scared of how much she loved her daughter and envious of how freely Thia could express everything and anything she felt without fearing the consequences.
Last edited by Koyliak on Mon Dec 16, 2019 12:39 am, edited 2 times in total.
Koyliak "The BobCrusher" VanDuran-Simon
Owner of the Heavenly Boutique
Owner of the Heavenly Boutique
ShadoWeaver and MoonBeryl felt the same state of fear and exultation. The inroads into the child were both a success and failure. They had much to discuss.
That was not what I expected, sister.
No. ShadoWeaver needed time to consider what had just taken place.
Control was not easy. Did we have control?
Yes. ShadoWeaver lied out of habit before quickly recanting. Dishonesty with her brother would not help achieve their goals.
No. We were only inside her mind for an instant. There wasn’t time to establish ourselves. This was simply a test.
And what a test. ShadoWeaver and MoonBeryl spent hours examining every portion of that instant, everything they’d sensed and seen. Both Opals felt themselves, ever so slightly, slip away during that instant; had they not pulled back, they could have lost themselves in the turmoil. Neither of them had expected FireStar’s base element to unleash itself so violently, so quickly, with no warning.
The longer they investigated, the larger MoonBeryl’s doubts grew. The child’s essence was too chaotic. They’d expected a swift and easy inroad, expected to overwhelm base simplicity with no effort. ShadoWeaver did her best to quash her brother’s worries. They were too close to stop now.
Let me work on this alone, brother. You are correct, we were ill prepared for the bedlam in her mind. We shall not make that mistake again. There is order to the disarray. I must simply unlock it. Give me time.
MoonBeryl considered his sister’s words and eventually agreed, his desire for the power they were so close to unlocking outweighing all other danger, including that of his own welfare.
ShadoWeaver sensed her brother needed a distraction, something to keep him from thinking too much about the experiment’s flaws.
Taunt the elf, brother. See if you can get her to admit the truths she already knows.
Work quickly, sister. I fear the others will sense something amiss if this continues much longer.
Do not worry, brother, the black opal spoke confidently, they cannot stop us. Attend to your playthings. I will find you when the time is right.
That was not what I expected, sister.
No. ShadoWeaver needed time to consider what had just taken place.
Control was not easy. Did we have control?
Yes. ShadoWeaver lied out of habit before quickly recanting. Dishonesty with her brother would not help achieve their goals.
No. We were only inside her mind for an instant. There wasn’t time to establish ourselves. This was simply a test.
And what a test. ShadoWeaver and MoonBeryl spent hours examining every portion of that instant, everything they’d sensed and seen. Both Opals felt themselves, ever so slightly, slip away during that instant; had they not pulled back, they could have lost themselves in the turmoil. Neither of them had expected FireStar’s base element to unleash itself so violently, so quickly, with no warning.
The longer they investigated, the larger MoonBeryl’s doubts grew. The child’s essence was too chaotic. They’d expected a swift and easy inroad, expected to overwhelm base simplicity with no effort. ShadoWeaver did her best to quash her brother’s worries. They were too close to stop now.
Let me work on this alone, brother. You are correct, we were ill prepared for the bedlam in her mind. We shall not make that mistake again. There is order to the disarray. I must simply unlock it. Give me time.
MoonBeryl considered his sister’s words and eventually agreed, his desire for the power they were so close to unlocking outweighing all other danger, including that of his own welfare.
ShadoWeaver sensed her brother needed a distraction, something to keep him from thinking too much about the experiment’s flaws.
Taunt the elf, brother. See if you can get her to admit the truths she already knows.
Work quickly, sister. I fear the others will sense something amiss if this continues much longer.
Do not worry, brother, the black opal spoke confidently, they cannot stop us. Attend to your playthings. I will find you when the time is right.
Overwhelmed, you chose to run…No-one plans to take the path that brings you lower.
It’s your decision.
–Jerry Cantrell
November 1st, 0400hrs
Inside the Outback, crouched low, Matt slid his hands over one of the main balance beams atop Styx. The only illumination in the building came via dim moonlight through the windows below. Shadows moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, over the wooden floor. Matt was covered in darkness, Rhydin’s moons having sunk past the point where any light could reach him through the building’s dome. It was quiet and bleak, perfect ambience for the decision he weighed. He felt he needed to be in a place like this, alone to wrestle with himself and his choices.
The wooden beam, abused from years and years of dueling, felt rough and aged against the smooth skin of his palms as he dragged his hands over its surface. He refused to wince as small splinters imbedded themselves in his hands. They were nothing compared to what might happen were he to commit himself to this path. He shifted over to the beam’s edge and stood upon a figurative and literal precipice as he stared at the safety mats fifteen feet below. He’d already made up his mind, but he was trying to convince himself otherwise. His choice was no choice at all. It was a must. But he couldn’t allow himself the admission.
He remained where he stood, his gaze shifting to roam over the portraits on the Wall of Diamonds, past the Trophy Case, the jukebox, the bar, the staircase to the second floor. He imagined he could see right through the walls, into and past blocks and blocks of businesses, homes, ships. Lives.
Lives that, to him, were of paramount importance; lives of people he simply could not trust to act in their own best interests. Inhaling sharply, he leapt from the beam. A sharp whump echoed throughout the Outback as he struck the safety mats feet first and tumbled into a practiced roll.
In one smooth motion, he untucked from the roll and was already mid-stride, heading for the Outback’s double doors.
The events leading to this moment no longer mattered. His decision was made.
It’s your decision.
–Jerry Cantrell
November 1st, 0400hrs
Inside the Outback, crouched low, Matt slid his hands over one of the main balance beams atop Styx. The only illumination in the building came via dim moonlight through the windows below. Shadows moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, over the wooden floor. Matt was covered in darkness, Rhydin’s moons having sunk past the point where any light could reach him through the building’s dome. It was quiet and bleak, perfect ambience for the decision he weighed. He felt he needed to be in a place like this, alone to wrestle with himself and his choices.
The wooden beam, abused from years and years of dueling, felt rough and aged against the smooth skin of his palms as he dragged his hands over its surface. He refused to wince as small splinters imbedded themselves in his hands. They were nothing compared to what might happen were he to commit himself to this path. He shifted over to the beam’s edge and stood upon a figurative and literal precipice as he stared at the safety mats fifteen feet below. He’d already made up his mind, but he was trying to convince himself otherwise. His choice was no choice at all. It was a must. But he couldn’t allow himself the admission.
He remained where he stood, his gaze shifting to roam over the portraits on the Wall of Diamonds, past the Trophy Case, the jukebox, the bar, the staircase to the second floor. He imagined he could see right through the walls, into and past blocks and blocks of businesses, homes, ships. Lives.
Lives that, to him, were of paramount importance; lives of people he simply could not trust to act in their own best interests. Inhaling sharply, he leapt from the beam. A sharp whump echoed throughout the Outback as he struck the safety mats feet first and tumbled into a practiced roll.
In one smooth motion, he untucked from the roll and was already mid-stride, heading for the Outback’s double doors.
The events leading to this moment no longer mattered. His decision was made.
October 23rd, 2210hrs
“Best estimate is a couple days until we have it all under control, sir.” The faceless voice from the SWACS was not at all comforting.
“Any insights into what started the fires?”
“No, sir. Nothing we can tell at this point, anyway. We know the focal point and we’ll get down there as soon as we’re able.”
“Understood. Simon out.”
October 24th, 0728hrs
Matt stared thoughtfully at the big lumberjack who looked uncomfortable and too large for the confines of the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
“So you weren’t there?”
“No,” Layne barked, “how many times do I have to say it? Living in this place has made you as stupid as the rest of these mutant freaks.”
“That’s enough,” Matt cautioned. Whatever debt he owed Layne for the man’s part in building the Outback’s bar years prior had worn out long ago. Layne’s disdain for Rhydin and its inhabitants was no secret; the lumberjack took great delight in making snide and chastising comments at every opportunity about the people and things Matt held most dear. Whatever past history the two men shared did nothing to endear Layne to Matt’s heart or invoke the least bit of pity or sympathy for the man who held such off-colored views. He had no need to be nice, or even civil.
“You’re of no use, then” he said evenly. “Send me the guys who were there. And get the hell out of my office.”
October 24th, 1118hrs
“One more time, gentlemen,” Matt said, looking over the dozen or so men who’d occupied the Graf Corporation’s Forward Site C the previous morning when the fire broke out.
Matt listened carefully as the men spoke. Some of what they said was contradictory – the result of their brains filling in gaps formed in the chaos of trying to escape to safety. Normally, that would annoy him. In this case, he sensed that he could use it to his advantage if the need arose.
When they finished, he nodded at them and shook each man’s hand.
“Thank you,” he said with a cautious smile, “for your time.”
October 25th, 1856hrs
The din of chatter from the Outback’s dueling areas reached his ears. The Diamond Quest was to start in a matter of minutes and he nearly didn’t care.
The fires were nearly contained. The city: safe. The RASG had performed admirably from what he’d observed both on the ground and in the air. A few hiccups here and there, as were expected in such an operation, but nothing they hadn’t overcome. He had every reason to be proud, to extol the accomplishment as a shining moment.
Instead, he could think about little else than the root cause of not just the fire, but of everything preceding it. All evidence pointed to the fire having begun spontaneously. The logging crew hadn’t seen lightning and had set up camp too far away from the ignition point to have started it themselves. There was no record of thundersnow that could have produced lightning; such instances were rare at best anyway.
The answer to the fire’s cause, like all the other answers, eluded him. He’d wracked his brain, neglected his sleep, foregone meals and tried everything he could think of in case that one last waking moment was the one where the puzzle fit together in his mind.
Forcing himself out of his chair, he dragged himself toward his office door. He looked like hell. He felt much worse. Reaching for the doorknob, he realized he still held a data-pad in his hand. Lifting it, he stared at the information on the screen. Data which, like the vast amounts preceding, was of absolutely no use. How could he live up to his promises? How could he ensure everyone’s safety if he couldn’t even tell them what endangered them?
Dropping the device, he watched as it bounced and clattered on the floor. Opening the door, he lifted his right leg and dropped his booted foot down heavily onto the data-pad’s screen. The snaps and pops as the device shorted and shattered made him feel, for a fleeting instant, slightly better.
Matt sighed, shutting the door behind him. He trudged toward the others. The tournament was beginning.
October 28th, 1337hrs
The quiet hum of computers, terminals, and data-miners, despite their large number, were relatively easy to talk over. Dr. Vardün and Matt conversed in low tones as they walked past operators and scientists all too busy to notice them, too busy trying to solve the mystery at hand, too busy wrapped up in minute details to concern themselves with the Governor’s presence in their midst.
Once inside her office, with the door shut, Ashleigh spoke, continuing their conversation.
“There’s just no cause. Just like the water-jets that killed Mr. Jaffey, there’s no reason this fire broke out.”
“No, there’s a reason. Just one you can’t find.” Matt couldn’t hide the accusatory sting in his tone.
Dr. Vardün’s lips curled into a frown; her natural inclination was to defend her team. “We’re worki…”
“You’ve been working on it,” Matt interrupted, “for months.” Nevermind that he’d done so as well and met with the same success as the experts. It wasn’t his job to figure this out. It was theirs.
“The fire started for a reason. All this is happening for a reason. This is no longer your team’s mission, doctor. It’s yours. Keep them working on all the other incidents we can’t explain. This fire thing, it’s yours. And yours alone. ”
Frustration, fatigue, anger, they were written into his face, his posture, his voice. He looked and felt as threatening and violent as he could get without physically throwing a punch. He spoke authoritatively, coldly, in such a way that it was obvious he expected no defiance.
“You will find me that reason. Do you understand? You will find me that reason.”
Dr. Vardün could only watch as Matt yanked open her office door and stalked away, her shoulders slumping. The Governor wanted answers where there were no answers to give.
What more could she do that she hadn’t already done?
November 1st, 0842hrs
Governor Simon folded his hands, sat straight in his chair, and asked Dr. Vardün to confirm what she’d just said.
“Yes,” she replied, the creases on her forehead deepening, “everything we have says the fire started spontaneously. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the last explanation left. You’ve seen the evidence the same as me. ”
“And your team’s been briefed?”
“No, sir. There hasn’t been time. I came here as soon as the models resolved, like you’d instructed.”
He swallowed and nodded slowly. Her answer confirmed the decision he’d made early that morning in the Outback.
“Thank you, doctor. That will be all.”
“Best estimate is a couple days until we have it all under control, sir.” The faceless voice from the SWACS was not at all comforting.
“Any insights into what started the fires?”
“No, sir. Nothing we can tell at this point, anyway. We know the focal point and we’ll get down there as soon as we’re able.”
“Understood. Simon out.”
October 24th, 0728hrs
Matt stared thoughtfully at the big lumberjack who looked uncomfortable and too large for the confines of the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
“So you weren’t there?”
“No,” Layne barked, “how many times do I have to say it? Living in this place has made you as stupid as the rest of these mutant freaks.”
“That’s enough,” Matt cautioned. Whatever debt he owed Layne for the man’s part in building the Outback’s bar years prior had worn out long ago. Layne’s disdain for Rhydin and its inhabitants was no secret; the lumberjack took great delight in making snide and chastising comments at every opportunity about the people and things Matt held most dear. Whatever past history the two men shared did nothing to endear Layne to Matt’s heart or invoke the least bit of pity or sympathy for the man who held such off-colored views. He had no need to be nice, or even civil.
“You’re of no use, then” he said evenly. “Send me the guys who were there. And get the hell out of my office.”
October 24th, 1118hrs
“One more time, gentlemen,” Matt said, looking over the dozen or so men who’d occupied the Graf Corporation’s Forward Site C the previous morning when the fire broke out.
Matt listened carefully as the men spoke. Some of what they said was contradictory – the result of their brains filling in gaps formed in the chaos of trying to escape to safety. Normally, that would annoy him. In this case, he sensed that he could use it to his advantage if the need arose.
When they finished, he nodded at them and shook each man’s hand.
“Thank you,” he said with a cautious smile, “for your time.”
October 25th, 1856hrs
The din of chatter from the Outback’s dueling areas reached his ears. The Diamond Quest was to start in a matter of minutes and he nearly didn’t care.
The fires were nearly contained. The city: safe. The RASG had performed admirably from what he’d observed both on the ground and in the air. A few hiccups here and there, as were expected in such an operation, but nothing they hadn’t overcome. He had every reason to be proud, to extol the accomplishment as a shining moment.
Instead, he could think about little else than the root cause of not just the fire, but of everything preceding it. All evidence pointed to the fire having begun spontaneously. The logging crew hadn’t seen lightning and had set up camp too far away from the ignition point to have started it themselves. There was no record of thundersnow that could have produced lightning; such instances were rare at best anyway.
The answer to the fire’s cause, like all the other answers, eluded him. He’d wracked his brain, neglected his sleep, foregone meals and tried everything he could think of in case that one last waking moment was the one where the puzzle fit together in his mind.
Forcing himself out of his chair, he dragged himself toward his office door. He looked like hell. He felt much worse. Reaching for the doorknob, he realized he still held a data-pad in his hand. Lifting it, he stared at the information on the screen. Data which, like the vast amounts preceding, was of absolutely no use. How could he live up to his promises? How could he ensure everyone’s safety if he couldn’t even tell them what endangered them?
Dropping the device, he watched as it bounced and clattered on the floor. Opening the door, he lifted his right leg and dropped his booted foot down heavily onto the data-pad’s screen. The snaps and pops as the device shorted and shattered made him feel, for a fleeting instant, slightly better.
Matt sighed, shutting the door behind him. He trudged toward the others. The tournament was beginning.
October 28th, 1337hrs
The quiet hum of computers, terminals, and data-miners, despite their large number, were relatively easy to talk over. Dr. Vardün and Matt conversed in low tones as they walked past operators and scientists all too busy to notice them, too busy trying to solve the mystery at hand, too busy wrapped up in minute details to concern themselves with the Governor’s presence in their midst.
Once inside her office, with the door shut, Ashleigh spoke, continuing their conversation.
“There’s just no cause. Just like the water-jets that killed Mr. Jaffey, there’s no reason this fire broke out.”
“No, there’s a reason. Just one you can’t find.” Matt couldn’t hide the accusatory sting in his tone.
Dr. Vardün’s lips curled into a frown; her natural inclination was to defend her team. “We’re worki…”
“You’ve been working on it,” Matt interrupted, “for months.” Nevermind that he’d done so as well and met with the same success as the experts. It wasn’t his job to figure this out. It was theirs.
“The fire started for a reason. All this is happening for a reason. This is no longer your team’s mission, doctor. It’s yours. Keep them working on all the other incidents we can’t explain. This fire thing, it’s yours. And yours alone. ”
Frustration, fatigue, anger, they were written into his face, his posture, his voice. He looked and felt as threatening and violent as he could get without physically throwing a punch. He spoke authoritatively, coldly, in such a way that it was obvious he expected no defiance.
“You will find me that reason. Do you understand? You will find me that reason.”
Dr. Vardün could only watch as Matt yanked open her office door and stalked away, her shoulders slumping. The Governor wanted answers where there were no answers to give.
What more could she do that she hadn’t already done?
November 1st, 0842hrs
Governor Simon folded his hands, sat straight in his chair, and asked Dr. Vardün to confirm what she’d just said.
“Yes,” she replied, the creases on her forehead deepening, “everything we have says the fire started spontaneously. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the last explanation left. You’ve seen the evidence the same as me. ”
“And your team’s been briefed?”
“No, sir. There hasn’t been time. I came here as soon as the models resolved, like you’d instructed.”
He swallowed and nodded slowly. Her answer confirmed the decision he’d made early that morning in the Outback.
“Thank you, doctor. That will be all.”
November 1st, 0900hrs
Governor Simon, looking more the part of Governor (thanks to the makeup artists he’d allowed to do their jobs this time around) than he had during his previous address to Rhydin’s populace, stood behind the podium, offering a tired smile to the media reports and hover-cams. Clearing his throat, he inhaled deeply. There was no going back.
“Citizens of Rhydin,
I come before you today to discuss our research progress and to provide an update on the fire situation. Firstly, unfortunately, I have no new information for you regarding the cause of these unusual weather patterns and other incidents that have taken place over the past several weeks. Our researchers are continuing to work tirelessly and I’m receiving constant updates from those teams.
Regarding the fire outbreak, I’ve personally spoken to those present in the area when the blaze began, I’ve reviewed the available data, and I’ve flown missions with the RASG over the site. I’m pleased to report that, due to the efforts of the RASG and supporting ground-based teams, the spread of the fire was limited and the damage, while extensive in scope and size, was far less than it would have been without those efforts.
I am happy to tell you that the fire, as best we can tell, originated within the storm over the area at the time. Whether it was specifically a lightning strike or something else, our data’s inconclusive. However, concerns that the fire’s origins are inexplicable can be laid to rest; we’re looking at a natural phenomenon here, one that we were quickly able to respond to and contain.
As I promised before, I’ll update you should any new information come to light. In the meantime, please continue to report any unusual circumstances you may witness as even minute details may prove key. Thank you for your vigilance and your attention; I’ll be speaking to you all again soon.”
As he had during the previous address, Matt departed from the stage without fielding questions from the media. Staffers followed him as he walked down hallways that seemed too narrow, too confining. Only when he was back in his office, alone, sitting on the floor with his head buried in his knees, was he no longer able to contain the doubt and guilt he’d yet to let himself truly feel. There was no undoing what he’d done and would continue to do until all other options were, in fact, exhausted. Should the doctor, or anyone else, choose to betray him, those people would be dealt with accordingly. This course, he’d convinced himself, was irreversible.
Governor Simon, looking more the part of Governor (thanks to the makeup artists he’d allowed to do their jobs this time around) than he had during his previous address to Rhydin’s populace, stood behind the podium, offering a tired smile to the media reports and hover-cams. Clearing his throat, he inhaled deeply. There was no going back.
“Citizens of Rhydin,
I come before you today to discuss our research progress and to provide an update on the fire situation. Firstly, unfortunately, I have no new information for you regarding the cause of these unusual weather patterns and other incidents that have taken place over the past several weeks. Our researchers are continuing to work tirelessly and I’m receiving constant updates from those teams.
Regarding the fire outbreak, I’ve personally spoken to those present in the area when the blaze began, I’ve reviewed the available data, and I’ve flown missions with the RASG over the site. I’m pleased to report that, due to the efforts of the RASG and supporting ground-based teams, the spread of the fire was limited and the damage, while extensive in scope and size, was far less than it would have been without those efforts.
I am happy to tell you that the fire, as best we can tell, originated within the storm over the area at the time. Whether it was specifically a lightning strike or something else, our data’s inconclusive. However, concerns that the fire’s origins are inexplicable can be laid to rest; we’re looking at a natural phenomenon here, one that we were quickly able to respond to and contain.
As I promised before, I’ll update you should any new information come to light. In the meantime, please continue to report any unusual circumstances you may witness as even minute details may prove key. Thank you for your vigilance and your attention; I’ll be speaking to you all again soon.”
As he had during the previous address, Matt departed from the stage without fielding questions from the media. Staffers followed him as he walked down hallways that seemed too narrow, too confining. Only when he was back in his office, alone, sitting on the floor with his head buried in his knees, was he no longer able to contain the doubt and guilt he’d yet to let himself truly feel. There was no undoing what he’d done and would continue to do until all other options were, in fact, exhausted. Should the doctor, or anyone else, choose to betray him, those people would be dealt with accordingly. This course, he’d convinced himself, was irreversible.
Time to change has come and gone
Watched your fears become your God
You feed the fire that burned us all
When you lied
–Jerry Cantrell
November 1st, 1042hrs
Exactly two hours after she’d first left, back in Matt’s office, Ashleigh Vardün stood behind the back of a chair, literally shaking with indignation and rage, hardly able to articulate her thoughts. She found the Governor’s demeanor much as it had been before, calm, composed, and even-keeled. All traces of post-speech self-reproach were absentfrom his countenance.
The Governor waited calmly as she openly seethed, managing quite well not to look at all remorseful.
“Liar,” she finally spit out, her white-knuckled hands gripping the chair, leaving indentations where her nails gouged into the leather.
Matt raised a hand to stop her. He’d chosen his course. “You came to your own conclusions, doctor. I simply disagree with your findings. Or rather, your lack of findings. ”
“The data says I’m right,” she protested, jabbing a finger at the terminal screen. “You know I’m right. I don’t unde…”
“Doctor,” Matt cut her off, “are you referring to this data, here?”
She glared at him, nodding when he pointed to the screen. A half second later, after two quick keystrokes, the screen went dark.
“That data no longer exists.”
She just stared at him, her face a sculpture of disbelief.
“Doct…Ashleigh, look,” Matt’s opportunity to somehow convince the scientist to see things his way was rapidly diminishing. If he had a chance at all, he’d only get one.
“Let’s assume you’re right. Let’s assume the damn thing started on its own, for all we know because it just felt like it. What do you suggest I tell the public? That we still have no answers and oh, by the way, please stand ready in case an inferno happens to light up in the middle of your house with no warning? Or maybe an ice-storm could jumpstart in your neighborhood in a matter of moments, or a tempest could flare up on your kid’s school playground in the middle of recess. I’m sure knowing that would make everyone rest easy, right?”
Matt slowly rose out of his chair, looking his Chief Climatologist right in her wide incredulous eyes.
“I can’t, I won’t cause widespread panic. We know nothing. You’ve had months, your team’s had months. And nothing. And I will not cause those people out there,” he pointed out the window, “to let their wild fears run rampant. You saw what happened with the Proposition Thirty-Seven deal. Overnight, magic turned from a daily part of life into something to be hated and feared. The idiotic idea that magic might be dangerous and a cause for alarm because it’s a wildcard, an unknown factor, caused dread and terror in people who never gave it a second thought beforehand. People were killed, Ashleigh. Killed. Over what? An unknown. And all we have to offer those people is a hell of a lot of unknown. Do you honestly trust those people out there to just accept the trut…” he stopped himself, “what we do and don’t know and trust us to figure it out before something worse happens? I sure as hell don’t.”
Matt walked out from behind his desk and moved next to one of the office windows, gazing out onto the city streets below.
“I’ve said it too often over the past couple of weeks, Doctor. We’re running out of time. Go back to your office and figure this out. Figure this out before something truly bad happens. Figure this out before I do have to go out there in front of those cameras and tell people to evacuate the city because we can’t in good conscience ensure their safety.“
He turned, crossed his arms, and looked directly at her again, his voice reverting to a state from several days prior in her office – authoritative, cold, and firmly expectant of obedience. “There will be no leaks, no suggestions, no hints from you or anyone else involved with these efforts to even remotely suggest that fire began on its own. You will not mention it to anyone else. You will agree with the findings I just presented and will make part of the public record. Then, you will go back to work.”
Sitting down once more, Matt turned his terminal screen away from the doctor. Glancing up as he prepared to type, he found Dr. Vardün, looking shocked and unnerved, having not moved.
“I suggest, doctor,” he said grimly as his fingers played over the terminal’s interface, “you not waste any more time.”
The next time he looked up, she was gone. He’d dealt the hand; he hoped to God she’d play along.
Watched your fears become your God
You feed the fire that burned us all
When you lied
–Jerry Cantrell
November 1st, 1042hrs
Exactly two hours after she’d first left, back in Matt’s office, Ashleigh Vardün stood behind the back of a chair, literally shaking with indignation and rage, hardly able to articulate her thoughts. She found the Governor’s demeanor much as it had been before, calm, composed, and even-keeled. All traces of post-speech self-reproach were absentfrom his countenance.
The Governor waited calmly as she openly seethed, managing quite well not to look at all remorseful.
“Liar,” she finally spit out, her white-knuckled hands gripping the chair, leaving indentations where her nails gouged into the leather.
Matt raised a hand to stop her. He’d chosen his course. “You came to your own conclusions, doctor. I simply disagree with your findings. Or rather, your lack of findings. ”
“The data says I’m right,” she protested, jabbing a finger at the terminal screen. “You know I’m right. I don’t unde…”
“Doctor,” Matt cut her off, “are you referring to this data, here?”
She glared at him, nodding when he pointed to the screen. A half second later, after two quick keystrokes, the screen went dark.
“That data no longer exists.”
She just stared at him, her face a sculpture of disbelief.
“Doct…Ashleigh, look,” Matt’s opportunity to somehow convince the scientist to see things his way was rapidly diminishing. If he had a chance at all, he’d only get one.
“Let’s assume you’re right. Let’s assume the damn thing started on its own, for all we know because it just felt like it. What do you suggest I tell the public? That we still have no answers and oh, by the way, please stand ready in case an inferno happens to light up in the middle of your house with no warning? Or maybe an ice-storm could jumpstart in your neighborhood in a matter of moments, or a tempest could flare up on your kid’s school playground in the middle of recess. I’m sure knowing that would make everyone rest easy, right?”
Matt slowly rose out of his chair, looking his Chief Climatologist right in her wide incredulous eyes.
“I can’t, I won’t cause widespread panic. We know nothing. You’ve had months, your team’s had months. And nothing. And I will not cause those people out there,” he pointed out the window, “to let their wild fears run rampant. You saw what happened with the Proposition Thirty-Seven deal. Overnight, magic turned from a daily part of life into something to be hated and feared. The idiotic idea that magic might be dangerous and a cause for alarm because it’s a wildcard, an unknown factor, caused dread and terror in people who never gave it a second thought beforehand. People were killed, Ashleigh. Killed. Over what? An unknown. And all we have to offer those people is a hell of a lot of unknown. Do you honestly trust those people out there to just accept the trut…” he stopped himself, “what we do and don’t know and trust us to figure it out before something worse happens? I sure as hell don’t.”
Matt walked out from behind his desk and moved next to one of the office windows, gazing out onto the city streets below.
“I’ve said it too often over the past couple of weeks, Doctor. We’re running out of time. Go back to your office and figure this out. Figure this out before something truly bad happens. Figure this out before I do have to go out there in front of those cameras and tell people to evacuate the city because we can’t in good conscience ensure their safety.“
He turned, crossed his arms, and looked directly at her again, his voice reverting to a state from several days prior in her office – authoritative, cold, and firmly expectant of obedience. “There will be no leaks, no suggestions, no hints from you or anyone else involved with these efforts to even remotely suggest that fire began on its own. You will not mention it to anyone else. You will agree with the findings I just presented and will make part of the public record. Then, you will go back to work.”
Sitting down once more, Matt turned his terminal screen away from the doctor. Glancing up as he prepared to type, he found Dr. Vardün, looking shocked and unnerved, having not moved.
“I suggest, doctor,” he said grimly as his fingers played over the terminal’s interface, “you not waste any more time.”
The next time he looked up, she was gone. He’d dealt the hand; he hoped to God she’d play along.
MoonBeryl.
ShadoWeaver’s voice, filled with glee, jostled the yellow opal away from his thoughts.
Sister?
It is done. I have discovered the key to our success.
MoonBeryl’s tone quickly matched that of his sister, but his earlier doubts were not altogether quashed.
Are you certain?
Of course, brother. Nothing could be more simple.
When sh…
No more delays, brother. Let us begin.
ShadoWeaver’s voice, filled with glee, jostled the yellow opal away from his thoughts.
Sister?
It is done. I have discovered the key to our success.
MoonBeryl’s tone quickly matched that of his sister, but his earlier doubts were not altogether quashed.
Are you certain?
Of course, brother. Nothing could be more simple.
When sh…
No more delays, brother. Let us begin.
-
Koyliak
- Seasoned Adventurer
- Fashion Police
- Posts: 425
- Joined: Sat Apr 03, 2004 11:14 pm
- Location: The Heavenly Boutique - Where Dreams Become Realities
Prayers for a Faraway God
Prayers for a Faraway God
Ev'ry little movement has a meaning all its own.
Ev'ry thought and feeling by some posture can be shown.
And ev'ry love thought that comes a-stealing o'er your being,
Must be revealing all its sweetness
In some appealing little gesture all its own.
-Otto Harbach
November 6, 2009
Another night spent twisting her sheets in a restless sleep was made no better when she shot awake to remember Matt wasn’t home. He was out patrolling the skies searching for something she didn’t fully understand and likely never would. She had swapped being a space Colonel’s girlfriend to become the Governor’s wife. The place and circumstances had changed but the feelings and facts were the same.
The weather unnerved him. Everything else worried her.
Over time they had developed an unspoken method of reeling each other in when one was spinning out of control. More often than not Matt was the anchor that prevented Koy from crashing and burning beyond recognition. There were only two periods of their life together where they reversed roles – the first when ShadoWeaver possessed him and the second when he returned after months of being lost on a failed Confed mission. Both had left their mark on him. Koy saw it even when Matt denied it, to himself most of all. But Matt managed his scars better than she did. He converted the loss of his life fighting a war for the Confederation once peace was reached to running for Governor. With renewed purpose to his professional life Matt was able to resume his role as the hook that held her steady.
Until now. They were both falling downward when one of them needed to be the safety net. The only thing forcing them to stay standing was their daughter. They couldn’t do this dance forever though.
One of them needed to catch and pull the other back in.
Koy rose from her bed and went to the closet. She dragged out the pine needle prayer mat her brother had given her before she left Langenfirth for RhyDin, long before she left a million shattered pieces of herself strewn between the two distant cities. The mat was woven with the image of a giant boar with white tusks flanked by a smaller wolverine. She knelt down facing the bedroom window and clasped her hands together in prayer.
“Boar Tusk, be my blade. Kuniyo, hold me upright as the oak trees. Everild, my wild lord, hear my prayers and guide yer lost warrior.” Koy extended her arms up over her head and down onto the mat bringing the rest of her upper body with them. The next words fell from her lips in the automatic fashion of someone who had been repeating them since childhood. They were in Gweth, the language of her village: “Leor rae pama phofer ve li misekar, Naen li alyi tema albir din ri ziallar.”
Learn of this dream in the end, All the Gods you seek not to offend.
Koy sat up and clasped her hands together again. She wished she could see the thirteen stars in the Elanthian night sky that made up the Boar constellation but her god would have to strain to catch her imploring the moons of RhyDin instead.
“I am fightin’ a losin’ war. My foe is not made of flesh. She does not bleed nor does she seek ta spill blood. My foe thirsts fer the souls of those I love. Everild, I beg ye, make me stronger. Make me stronger than tha darkest night in Riverhaven, tha night yer grace pulled me out of the depths and gave me the will ta fight fer life. Make me stronger so I don’t become my own worst enemy. Imbue tha same courage ye carry with such ease inta my loved ones tha they may also rise ta those challenges awaitin’ ‘em. “
She rocked back and forth on her knees. Her knuckles turned white from how tightly she held her hands together. She finished the prayer with a shaky breath.
“Ye of the boar, the wolverine, the centaur; proud heart, stout heart, dark heart; my lord of battle, my god of strength-- I, yer servant, call on ye ta grant me yer blessin’: Let my faith be my armor, my devotion, my blade, and yer name on my lips. Carry me through this battle. Praise Everild.”
She only hoped he could hear her.
((Based in parts on elements from the DragonRealms game series.))
Ev'ry little movement has a meaning all its own.
Ev'ry thought and feeling by some posture can be shown.
And ev'ry love thought that comes a-stealing o'er your being,
Must be revealing all its sweetness
In some appealing little gesture all its own.
-Otto Harbach
November 6, 2009
Another night spent twisting her sheets in a restless sleep was made no better when she shot awake to remember Matt wasn’t home. He was out patrolling the skies searching for something she didn’t fully understand and likely never would. She had swapped being a space Colonel’s girlfriend to become the Governor’s wife. The place and circumstances had changed but the feelings and facts were the same.
The weather unnerved him. Everything else worried her.
Over time they had developed an unspoken method of reeling each other in when one was spinning out of control. More often than not Matt was the anchor that prevented Koy from crashing and burning beyond recognition. There were only two periods of their life together where they reversed roles – the first when ShadoWeaver possessed him and the second when he returned after months of being lost on a failed Confed mission. Both had left their mark on him. Koy saw it even when Matt denied it, to himself most of all. But Matt managed his scars better than she did. He converted the loss of his life fighting a war for the Confederation once peace was reached to running for Governor. With renewed purpose to his professional life Matt was able to resume his role as the hook that held her steady.
Until now. They were both falling downward when one of them needed to be the safety net. The only thing forcing them to stay standing was their daughter. They couldn’t do this dance forever though.
One of them needed to catch and pull the other back in.
Koy rose from her bed and went to the closet. She dragged out the pine needle prayer mat her brother had given her before she left Langenfirth for RhyDin, long before she left a million shattered pieces of herself strewn between the two distant cities. The mat was woven with the image of a giant boar with white tusks flanked by a smaller wolverine. She knelt down facing the bedroom window and clasped her hands together in prayer.
“Boar Tusk, be my blade. Kuniyo, hold me upright as the oak trees. Everild, my wild lord, hear my prayers and guide yer lost warrior.” Koy extended her arms up over her head and down onto the mat bringing the rest of her upper body with them. The next words fell from her lips in the automatic fashion of someone who had been repeating them since childhood. They were in Gweth, the language of her village: “Leor rae pama phofer ve li misekar, Naen li alyi tema albir din ri ziallar.”
Learn of this dream in the end, All the Gods you seek not to offend.
Koy sat up and clasped her hands together again. She wished she could see the thirteen stars in the Elanthian night sky that made up the Boar constellation but her god would have to strain to catch her imploring the moons of RhyDin instead.
“I am fightin’ a losin’ war. My foe is not made of flesh. She does not bleed nor does she seek ta spill blood. My foe thirsts fer the souls of those I love. Everild, I beg ye, make me stronger. Make me stronger than tha darkest night in Riverhaven, tha night yer grace pulled me out of the depths and gave me the will ta fight fer life. Make me stronger so I don’t become my own worst enemy. Imbue tha same courage ye carry with such ease inta my loved ones tha they may also rise ta those challenges awaitin’ ‘em. “
She rocked back and forth on her knees. Her knuckles turned white from how tightly she held her hands together. She finished the prayer with a shaky breath.
“Ye of the boar, the wolverine, the centaur; proud heart, stout heart, dark heart; my lord of battle, my god of strength-- I, yer servant, call on ye ta grant me yer blessin’: Let my faith be my armor, my devotion, my blade, and yer name on my lips. Carry me through this battle. Praise Everild.”
She only hoped he could hear her.
((Based in parts on elements from the DragonRealms game series.))
Koyliak "The BobCrusher" VanDuran-Simon
Owner of the Heavenly Boutique
Owner of the Heavenly Boutique
Tell me that you love me
Tell me that you’re thinking of me
Tell me that you’re happy
And you love it when we’re laughing
Tell me more, oh, tell me more
Show me a sign.
–Rachel de Azevedo Coleman
“Shhhhh, shhhhhhh, shhhhhh,” Zoey repeated over and over again, gently rocking Thia as the car wound through city streets. Though she was trying to calm the Simon’s daughter, the circumstances outside of the dry confines of the vehicle made her uneasy. Black clouds, thick and ugly, unleashed an angry torrent of rain that seemed to grow in intensity with each passing moment. The tops of young saplings bent one way and then another as the wind, which had begun shortly after the Governor’s Ball started, shifted direction.
Softly singing one of Thia’s favorite lullabies, an ancient tale from Koy’s home of Langenfirth, Zoey concentrated on the strange elven words. Each time she sung the tale, the foreign pronunciations flowed more naturally, rhythmically, as she grew more accustomed to the unfamiliar language. Focusing on the words was better than paying attention to the weather outside or the annoyed squirms of the almost-one-year-old-Thia who was securely restrained in the seat next to her. Zoey felt sorry for Thia, who was up long past her regular bedtime. Even though it was technically Tula’s turn in the babysitting rotation, Zoey had volunteered to take the night. She still felt badly about the encounter she and her boyfriend had with Koy several days prior – in all honesty, she enjoyed watching Thia and was glad that Koy trusted her so implicitly with her daughter. Still, like most adolescent girls, she sometimes wished she could spend less time with the baby and more time practicing her singing or hanging out with Charlie.
Typically, she babysat at Koy and Matt’s house away from the city, but with both Simons in town for the ball, they’d all hoped Thia would just fall asleep in Zoey’s arms and transfer quietly to the portable crib they’d stored in an auxiliary room to the Hall. Thia, though, had other plans, most decidedly determined to fuss and whine her way through the evening. Rather than continually disturb the guests or try and soothe Thia in the side-room (where Koy would probably check twice to minute to see if things had improved), Zoey suggested that she take Thia to her house where the Simons could pick her up after the ball. Zoey’s parents, out of town for the weekend, wouldn’t object – at least, that’s what she promised. Koy had reluctantly acquiesced, torn between staying with her husband and going with her daughter.
Wrapping her coat around Thia once the car came to a halt, Zoey thanked the driver. Upon opening the door, she immediately felt the sharp stings of wind-driven rain pepper her face as she hefted Thia’s carry-bag which housed diapers, toys, and a variety of food. Narrowing her eyes into slits, she held Thia tightly and ran up the six steps leading to the main entrance of the apartment building. Quickly keying in the access code, she pushed through the door and into the lobby. Though she’d only been in the rain a few seconds, her hair and clothes were quite wet; Thia, though, snug underneath the coat, giggled happily as she nuzzled closer in an effort to draw away even more of Zoey’s body heat.
After a short elevator ride to the third floor, Zoey stepped through the threshold of the two-bedroom apartment which, given that her parents had been away, was still fairly clean. Setting Thia down on the living room floor, Zoey kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of the wet coat, discarding it onto the vinyl flooring next to the shoes. She’d deal with them later when she was warmer. She set the bag down next to the soggy clothing and frowned as droplets of water dripped freely from the ends of her hair.
“I’m going to make some tea, little miss,” Zoey commented to Thia, who was struggling to pull herself to her feet by holding onto the coffee table in the middle of the room, next to a reclining chair. Walking into the kitchen, Zoey’s breath caught when a loud thunder-crack boomed overhead, rattling the apartment’s windows and causing the crystal in the hutch to shiver against the glass shelving. Leaning back, she looked in Thia’s direction; thankfully, the little girl seemed oblivious to the storm and its potential scare-factor. Instead, she was focused on trying to reach one of the magazines on top of the table.
Setting a kettle of water on top of the stove to boil, Zoey returned to the living room intent on changing into a pair of warm pajamas. She veered off in Thia’s direction, though, when the little girl began to crumple the cover of the magazine she’d managed to wriggle close enough to grab.
“Hang on, Thia,” Zoey said with a grin, scooping her up in a one armed grab, “let’s find you one of your own toys.” Setting Thia down again near the carry-bag, Zoey rifled through food containers and extra sets of clothes before pulling out a soft-covered booklet filled with photographs of the Simon family taken over the past several months. Thia cooed happily when she saw the small treasure, her eyes lighting up as she poked a picture of her mommy.
“Ok, you enjoy that while I change, all right?”
Zoey disappeared into her room, chuckling to herself as Thia laughed and flipped pages. Another loud thunderclap, so close it shook the entire building, reverberated overhead as Zoey tousled her wet hair in a towel. Walking back into the living room, she couldn’t even see out of the windows with the dense clusters of raindrops battering the panes. Thia laughed again, gleefully pointing at a picture of her asleep on Matt’s lap as a large gust of wind ripped a large branch from a nearby tree; the branch sailed past the building and on down the street where it skidded out of control down the pavement. Thunder boomed once more as Thia happily pumped her legs and turned the photo-book’s pages.
The tea kettle started its shrill whistle and Zoey turned away from the windows, catching a glimpse of an ecstatic Thia beaming wide at another picture of her parents. Thia looked up at Zoey, a joyous expression on her face. Zoey smiled back and took a step toward the kitchen.
A delighted Thia laughed loudly as Zoey moved, waving the booklet in her hands, holding it aloft. Her eyes twinkled as her smile grew impossibly wide as the storm reached its crescendo.
Amongst the laughter, the world caved in.
Tell me that you’re thinking of me
Tell me that you’re happy
And you love it when we’re laughing
Tell me more, oh, tell me more
Show me a sign.
–Rachel de Azevedo Coleman
“Shhhhh, shhhhhhh, shhhhhh,” Zoey repeated over and over again, gently rocking Thia as the car wound through city streets. Though she was trying to calm the Simon’s daughter, the circumstances outside of the dry confines of the vehicle made her uneasy. Black clouds, thick and ugly, unleashed an angry torrent of rain that seemed to grow in intensity with each passing moment. The tops of young saplings bent one way and then another as the wind, which had begun shortly after the Governor’s Ball started, shifted direction.
Softly singing one of Thia’s favorite lullabies, an ancient tale from Koy’s home of Langenfirth, Zoey concentrated on the strange elven words. Each time she sung the tale, the foreign pronunciations flowed more naturally, rhythmically, as she grew more accustomed to the unfamiliar language. Focusing on the words was better than paying attention to the weather outside or the annoyed squirms of the almost-one-year-old-Thia who was securely restrained in the seat next to her. Zoey felt sorry for Thia, who was up long past her regular bedtime. Even though it was technically Tula’s turn in the babysitting rotation, Zoey had volunteered to take the night. She still felt badly about the encounter she and her boyfriend had with Koy several days prior – in all honesty, she enjoyed watching Thia and was glad that Koy trusted her so implicitly with her daughter. Still, like most adolescent girls, she sometimes wished she could spend less time with the baby and more time practicing her singing or hanging out with Charlie.
Typically, she babysat at Koy and Matt’s house away from the city, but with both Simons in town for the ball, they’d all hoped Thia would just fall asleep in Zoey’s arms and transfer quietly to the portable crib they’d stored in an auxiliary room to the Hall. Thia, though, had other plans, most decidedly determined to fuss and whine her way through the evening. Rather than continually disturb the guests or try and soothe Thia in the side-room (where Koy would probably check twice to minute to see if things had improved), Zoey suggested that she take Thia to her house where the Simons could pick her up after the ball. Zoey’s parents, out of town for the weekend, wouldn’t object – at least, that’s what she promised. Koy had reluctantly acquiesced, torn between staying with her husband and going with her daughter.
Wrapping her coat around Thia once the car came to a halt, Zoey thanked the driver. Upon opening the door, she immediately felt the sharp stings of wind-driven rain pepper her face as she hefted Thia’s carry-bag which housed diapers, toys, and a variety of food. Narrowing her eyes into slits, she held Thia tightly and ran up the six steps leading to the main entrance of the apartment building. Quickly keying in the access code, she pushed through the door and into the lobby. Though she’d only been in the rain a few seconds, her hair and clothes were quite wet; Thia, though, snug underneath the coat, giggled happily as she nuzzled closer in an effort to draw away even more of Zoey’s body heat.
After a short elevator ride to the third floor, Zoey stepped through the threshold of the two-bedroom apartment which, given that her parents had been away, was still fairly clean. Setting Thia down on the living room floor, Zoey kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of the wet coat, discarding it onto the vinyl flooring next to the shoes. She’d deal with them later when she was warmer. She set the bag down next to the soggy clothing and frowned as droplets of water dripped freely from the ends of her hair.
“I’m going to make some tea, little miss,” Zoey commented to Thia, who was struggling to pull herself to her feet by holding onto the coffee table in the middle of the room, next to a reclining chair. Walking into the kitchen, Zoey’s breath caught when a loud thunder-crack boomed overhead, rattling the apartment’s windows and causing the crystal in the hutch to shiver against the glass shelving. Leaning back, she looked in Thia’s direction; thankfully, the little girl seemed oblivious to the storm and its potential scare-factor. Instead, she was focused on trying to reach one of the magazines on top of the table.
Setting a kettle of water on top of the stove to boil, Zoey returned to the living room intent on changing into a pair of warm pajamas. She veered off in Thia’s direction, though, when the little girl began to crumple the cover of the magazine she’d managed to wriggle close enough to grab.
“Hang on, Thia,” Zoey said with a grin, scooping her up in a one armed grab, “let’s find you one of your own toys.” Setting Thia down again near the carry-bag, Zoey rifled through food containers and extra sets of clothes before pulling out a soft-covered booklet filled with photographs of the Simon family taken over the past several months. Thia cooed happily when she saw the small treasure, her eyes lighting up as she poked a picture of her mommy.
“Ok, you enjoy that while I change, all right?”
Zoey disappeared into her room, chuckling to herself as Thia laughed and flipped pages. Another loud thunderclap, so close it shook the entire building, reverberated overhead as Zoey tousled her wet hair in a towel. Walking back into the living room, she couldn’t even see out of the windows with the dense clusters of raindrops battering the panes. Thia laughed again, gleefully pointing at a picture of her asleep on Matt’s lap as a large gust of wind ripped a large branch from a nearby tree; the branch sailed past the building and on down the street where it skidded out of control down the pavement. Thunder boomed once more as Thia happily pumped her legs and turned the photo-book’s pages.
The tea kettle started its shrill whistle and Zoey turned away from the windows, catching a glimpse of an ecstatic Thia beaming wide at another picture of her parents. Thia looked up at Zoey, a joyous expression on her face. Zoey smiled back and took a step toward the kitchen.
A delighted Thia laughed loudly as Zoey moved, waving the booklet in her hands, holding it aloft. Her eyes twinkled as her smile grew impossibly wide as the storm reached its crescendo.
Amongst the laughter, the world caved in.
-
Koyliak
- Seasoned Adventurer
- Fashion Police
- Posts: 425
- Joined: Sat Apr 03, 2004 11:14 pm
- Location: The Heavenly Boutique - Where Dreams Become Realities
The weather changed it for the worse
And came down on us like it had been rehearsed
--Modest Mouse
November 8, 2009
“Make sure everyone stays inside.” It wasn’t the instructions as much as Matt’s tone that made the hair stand up on the back of Koy’s neck. She recognized the cool, collected, and most of all commanding, tone that came from years of leading soldiers. He might have been dressed to the nines for the Governor’s Ball but he would always first and foremost be a military man.
He passed the order to the members of the Watch that had hurried into the ballroom to alert the Governor about the storm raging outside and getting worse with every passing second. Matt stepped away from Koy to make an announcement to his guests about the storm. Koy started for the door leading out of the hall. She didn’t care how hard the rain might be falling. She wanted to be with her daughter who had only left a short time before under Zoey’s care. She made it two steps before Luke Wesley’s muscular form filled the doorway.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Simon, but you heard the Governor. Everyone stays inside.” Luke frowned at having to reproach Koy but as part of Matt’s private security detail his allegiance was with the Governor above all others.
“Excuse me, everyone! Please, may I have your attention for a moment. Please.” Matt’s voice carried across the hall quieted now for lack of a band playing. He worked to assure the crowd that while the storm wreaked havoc outside there was no reason for panic. He repeated his instructions now to remain indoors.
Away from the hall, Koy scowled at Luke. “But our child’s out there. Step ‘side, Luke. Hodierna love ye, I’d rather not have ta hit ye but I will iffn ye don’t get out of my way.”
Luke stood his ground and braced himself as Koy took another step towards him. Before Koy could try and shove him out of the way Matt’s fingers clamped down hard on her wrist and pulled her back to his side. He had returned from making his announcement too quickly for Koy to escape. “I mean it, Koy. Everyone stays inside. That includes you.”
Indignant, Koy whipped around to glare at her husband. “Ye can’t be serious. I’m goin’ ta get Thia.”
Matt did not loosen his grip. His voice remained calm. “Thia is fine. She’s indoors with Zoey. I need you to stay here where it’s safe and not look panicked. We have to reassure our guests and lead by example.” Koy could only stare at him and seethe. Luke winced seeing her expression but Matt did not flinch. It wasn’t the first time his wife had been livid with him and it surely wouldn’t be the last.
Koy opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off quickly. “Not another word. We’re going to go back out there and you will smile and let everyone see there’s nothing to worry about. It’s only a little rain.”
She gave no nod or other sign of agreement but fumed in silence. She let him lead her back out to the main ballroom filled with friends and dignitaries. It was only when they were amidst the crowd and he remembered how tightly he was holding her wrist that he let her go. He fixed her with a look to remind her of her role which was only answered with a phony smile. He watched her disappear into the throng of partygoers before going to give the guards further instructions in private.
Koy’s mind raced to come up with a plan of escape. She could see Luke across the room keeping an eye on her. When her gaze landed on Charlie she gave a small sigh of relief. She cut a path straight for her dear friend who had been good enough to not only show up at the ball but to throw on a dress for the occasion as well. Koy put on a bright smile as she came closer. “Viceroy! Did I tell ye yet how wonderful ye look tonight?” Koy went to wrap an arm around Charlie’s waist, the first sign Charlie would get that something was wrong. The DoD girls were not a touchy-feely sort and the overly warm embrace was out of character for their relationship.
Instinctively, Charlie slid her arm around Koy’s waist in an equally friendly gesture. Before Charlie could ask a question Koy smiled and whispered into her ear, “Keep smilin’. I need ye ta help me get out of here without Matt knowin’.” Koy kissed her cheek and pulled back with a laugh as if she had made some joking remark. Charlie quickly followed her lead and gave a short laugh as if the woman had whispered something amusing but not giddy enough to be uncharacteristic. Charlie took a glance across the crowd at Matt and leaned her head in towards Koy. “Looks like he’s busy. Now’s probably the time, Legs.”
A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes. Koy grabbed one and pretended as if someone had bumped into her, causing her to spill some bubbly over onto Charlie’s dress. Though she deemed it necessary Koy frowned for a second at ruining something so pretty. Charlie continued to play along despite her own regret at having to stain her dress. “Oh!” Charlie took a startled step back. There was a brief glance shot Koy’s way indicating that she would definitely be replacing the dress when everything was all said and done.
“Ay me, I’m so sorry ‘bout tha, Viceroy! C’mon, let’s see iffn I can’t fix ye up.” Koy tugged Charlie forward through the crowd moving in the direction of the bathrooms. Luke stayed at his post instead of following them. Two women flocking to the ladies room together did not seem out of the ordinary.
“Do you think it will stain? This dress fits me like a glove.” Charlie’s tone was just above a normal conversational tone but not louder than one tipsy young woman might use with a fellow imbiber. She patted the stain absently all the way until they passed into the shadows of the exit, selling the act the entire way. As they hit the door, she shot Koy a pointed imploring look and held the door open with a hip so that her friend could pass through.
Once out the door Koy stopped smiling. She was close to shaking with rage. She was also getting wet from what rain still was falling. “The nerve of tha man tellin' me ta jest stay put and look calm fer everyone...” It was a wonder she hadn't decked Matt right then and there. “I'm goin' ta check on Thia 'stead of playin' the part of the good Governor's wife.” The words spit out with disgust as that was all she could offer Charlie as she sprinted down the street in her heels and ball gown.
A final glance around the room assured Charlie of their discreet exit and then she stepped out the doorway behind Koy, steeling herself for the weather that was sure to face them along the route. The door banged shut behind her as they exited out into the night.
And came down on us like it had been rehearsed
--Modest Mouse
November 8, 2009
“Make sure everyone stays inside.” It wasn’t the instructions as much as Matt’s tone that made the hair stand up on the back of Koy’s neck. She recognized the cool, collected, and most of all commanding, tone that came from years of leading soldiers. He might have been dressed to the nines for the Governor’s Ball but he would always first and foremost be a military man.
He passed the order to the members of the Watch that had hurried into the ballroom to alert the Governor about the storm raging outside and getting worse with every passing second. Matt stepped away from Koy to make an announcement to his guests about the storm. Koy started for the door leading out of the hall. She didn’t care how hard the rain might be falling. She wanted to be with her daughter who had only left a short time before under Zoey’s care. She made it two steps before Luke Wesley’s muscular form filled the doorway.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Simon, but you heard the Governor. Everyone stays inside.” Luke frowned at having to reproach Koy but as part of Matt’s private security detail his allegiance was with the Governor above all others.
“Excuse me, everyone! Please, may I have your attention for a moment. Please.” Matt’s voice carried across the hall quieted now for lack of a band playing. He worked to assure the crowd that while the storm wreaked havoc outside there was no reason for panic. He repeated his instructions now to remain indoors.
Away from the hall, Koy scowled at Luke. “But our child’s out there. Step ‘side, Luke. Hodierna love ye, I’d rather not have ta hit ye but I will iffn ye don’t get out of my way.”
Luke stood his ground and braced himself as Koy took another step towards him. Before Koy could try and shove him out of the way Matt’s fingers clamped down hard on her wrist and pulled her back to his side. He had returned from making his announcement too quickly for Koy to escape. “I mean it, Koy. Everyone stays inside. That includes you.”
Indignant, Koy whipped around to glare at her husband. “Ye can’t be serious. I’m goin’ ta get Thia.”
Matt did not loosen his grip. His voice remained calm. “Thia is fine. She’s indoors with Zoey. I need you to stay here where it’s safe and not look panicked. We have to reassure our guests and lead by example.” Koy could only stare at him and seethe. Luke winced seeing her expression but Matt did not flinch. It wasn’t the first time his wife had been livid with him and it surely wouldn’t be the last.
Koy opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off quickly. “Not another word. We’re going to go back out there and you will smile and let everyone see there’s nothing to worry about. It’s only a little rain.”
She gave no nod or other sign of agreement but fumed in silence. She let him lead her back out to the main ballroom filled with friends and dignitaries. It was only when they were amidst the crowd and he remembered how tightly he was holding her wrist that he let her go. He fixed her with a look to remind her of her role which was only answered with a phony smile. He watched her disappear into the throng of partygoers before going to give the guards further instructions in private.
Koy’s mind raced to come up with a plan of escape. She could see Luke across the room keeping an eye on her. When her gaze landed on Charlie she gave a small sigh of relief. She cut a path straight for her dear friend who had been good enough to not only show up at the ball but to throw on a dress for the occasion as well. Koy put on a bright smile as she came closer. “Viceroy! Did I tell ye yet how wonderful ye look tonight?” Koy went to wrap an arm around Charlie’s waist, the first sign Charlie would get that something was wrong. The DoD girls were not a touchy-feely sort and the overly warm embrace was out of character for their relationship.
Instinctively, Charlie slid her arm around Koy’s waist in an equally friendly gesture. Before Charlie could ask a question Koy smiled and whispered into her ear, “Keep smilin’. I need ye ta help me get out of here without Matt knowin’.” Koy kissed her cheek and pulled back with a laugh as if she had made some joking remark. Charlie quickly followed her lead and gave a short laugh as if the woman had whispered something amusing but not giddy enough to be uncharacteristic. Charlie took a glance across the crowd at Matt and leaned her head in towards Koy. “Looks like he’s busy. Now’s probably the time, Legs.”
A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes. Koy grabbed one and pretended as if someone had bumped into her, causing her to spill some bubbly over onto Charlie’s dress. Though she deemed it necessary Koy frowned for a second at ruining something so pretty. Charlie continued to play along despite her own regret at having to stain her dress. “Oh!” Charlie took a startled step back. There was a brief glance shot Koy’s way indicating that she would definitely be replacing the dress when everything was all said and done.
“Ay me, I’m so sorry ‘bout tha, Viceroy! C’mon, let’s see iffn I can’t fix ye up.” Koy tugged Charlie forward through the crowd moving in the direction of the bathrooms. Luke stayed at his post instead of following them. Two women flocking to the ladies room together did not seem out of the ordinary.
“Do you think it will stain? This dress fits me like a glove.” Charlie’s tone was just above a normal conversational tone but not louder than one tipsy young woman might use with a fellow imbiber. She patted the stain absently all the way until they passed into the shadows of the exit, selling the act the entire way. As they hit the door, she shot Koy a pointed imploring look and held the door open with a hip so that her friend could pass through.
Once out the door Koy stopped smiling. She was close to shaking with rage. She was also getting wet from what rain still was falling. “The nerve of tha man tellin' me ta jest stay put and look calm fer everyone...” It was a wonder she hadn't decked Matt right then and there. “I'm goin' ta check on Thia 'stead of playin' the part of the good Governor's wife.” The words spit out with disgust as that was all she could offer Charlie as she sprinted down the street in her heels and ball gown.
A final glance around the room assured Charlie of their discreet exit and then she stepped out the doorway behind Koy, steeling herself for the weather that was sure to face them along the route. The door banged shut behind her as they exited out into the night.
Koyliak "The BobCrusher" VanDuran-Simon
Owner of the Heavenly Boutique
Owner of the Heavenly Boutique
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