Drannax

AWT - Weaver

drannax — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 02:32:54 GMT

A Dirty Pack of Spiders

1. The Dream Weaver's Tale

Dulotiel Endaroth was a gentle soul, despite her upbringing. She greatly preferred to be locked away with her books to just about any other activity in the world. If it were feasible she'd never leave her own private library. Ever. But from her earliest memories she knew such was a fantasy, not the reality which fate had in store for her.

Her kin were a dangerous folk, brought up for battle and blood…mayhem, magic and murder. She herself was the only heir left of the most noble line of her people, Weavers, those who not only used magic, but created it, and in doing so, created destiny. As such she had many duties and ever needed to keep a wary eye watchful for the next assassin.

So with great reluctance, she closed the book she’d been enrapt with when the summons had appeared before her. She raised her eyes, contemplating the golden letters glowing before her eyes.

Come at once to my chambers.

There was no name attached, but none was needed, she was very familiar with this summons’ author, and knew the writing and feel of the magic intimately. Resigned, she set down the book she’d been reading and rose to answer the summons, locking and warding the library door behind her.

Though the summons had demanded speed she sauntered leisurely down the corridors, not speeding her pace one whit! He knew that today was hers! This, her day of ascension, was to be her own, to enjoy how she saw fit, at least until the midnight hour struck and her testing would begin.

She entered his chamber with an imperious stride, looking with disdain at the disarray surrounding him. All sorts of vials and tools lay scattered on the top of the desk he sat behind, and he seemed deeply engrossed in some sort of delicate experiment. She grimaced in disgust as a large spider crawled across her foot.

“Really, Kormair. You should clean up this place. Or at the very least learn to keep your pets well caged, lest somebody take exception and squash them!” She told the mage with completely unveiled venom.

“Ahhh, Dulotiel. I thought I heard your dulcet steps tromping down the hallway.” He replied with a smirk, not even bothering to look up to see her reaction.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. If things had been different, she may have liked the man. The Gods knew he was pleasing to look at. He was tall, had broad shoulders on a wiry frame, long hair black as night, thick as fur, and eyes like jewels of fire. His hands were elegant, long and nimble, but strong too. His skin was white as cream and from experience she knew it was as soft as flower petals. And his face was truly divine, high cheekbones, straight nose, full lips made for biting and a neck that would shame a swan.

If things had been different…but they weren’t. He was a very powerful mage, but he wasn’t a Weaver. He could cast spells but not create magic. It made all the difference. That being the case, he could never be more to her than he was; tutor, drill instructor, and humongous pain in her ass!

“Well? What’s so important that you call me down here on THIS of all days?” She asked.

Kormair hummed a little ditty as he put the finishing touches on the potion he’d been working on, letting her wait and hopefully calm down a bit, though knowing her the waiting would only rile her further, which was perfectly fine by him!

“Oh, just a little something I thought appropriate for the occasion,” he answered coyly.

Something was definitely up! Dulotiel thought. He sounded entirely too pleased with himself. “It isn’t cake, is it?” she asked warily.

Kormair let out a golden toned laugh! “No, nothing so innocent, I’m afraid.”

He regarded his student seriously. He would never reveal how he truly felt about her. He knew his time with her was but a momentary gift which was ending very soon now. He’d resolved himself to his situation and accepted it, even if he didn’t always like it.

“Tonight you graduate, and go beyond what I can ever teach you. After the ascension you will no longer need my guidance or protection.” He held up a finger sternly to silence her outrage before she could give voice to it.

“We both know I’ve been protecting you over the years. Don’t insult me by trying to discredit my abilities. In return I won’t insult you. You’ve done well. The past five attempts on your life I’ve not even had to lift a single finger. That gives me hope that you’ve absorbed most of what’s necessary.” He said with a wry little smile.

“Tonight will be your greatest challenge, and you know what stakes are riding on your success. You also know that you will be at your most vulnerable, and that your enemies most certainly will NOT pass up the chance to destroy you. I cannot go where you’ll walk tonight, nor can you take any items with you. But…”

And here he gifted her with a most dangerous and predatory smile which sent thrills down her body.

“There’s nothing forbidden about taking something there within you.” He finished, holding up a vial of shining blue and golden fluid.

Her eyes went wide as she finally identified the potion. “Is that…?”

“It is,” he confirmed, holding it out for her to take.

She took the vial reverently, gazing at the glow and how the colors swirled and interacted yet never mixed. “Tears of Fate. Oh, Kormair!” Her eyes winced and her heart ached for him. She knew what the cost of this potion was, and it wasn’t one paid in coin, but in life.

“It was necessary, Dulotiel. You are the last. If you fail or are killed before you can complete the transformation, magic will wither and our enemies with their infernal machines will triumph,” he said without a trace of the true emotion he felt for her. “You are not the only one who understands and accepts duty,” he chided her softly.

Her sigh sounded as if she might debate him, but again he held up a hand to stop her words.

“I’m not finished. I fully expect you to succeed. The grounds will be well guarded, but you as well as I know that insures nothing. I’ve taught you well, and if you’ve learned anything from me, I hope you’ve learned to be ruthless. That’s probably the most important lesson I’ve ever had to teach you. Now drink up, I’ll see you take it all. Understand?”

Suddenly she felt like a child again before his iron determination. Drinking the potion would kill him. Accepting this gift would mean cutting his life thread to the quick. She’d be leaving him with so little time! Maybe a few years, more likely only a handful of days.

And there he sat; chin resting in one palm, eyebrow arched haughtily, while his other hand was drumming the table with what seemed to be bored patience.

He was right though. This was an advantage she absolutely could not refuse. While it would steal away all hope of him living, it would make her completely impervious to all harm, physical, magical or spiritual. It might be considered by some to be cheating, but to the wise, it was using one’s resources to best advantage. Yes. He had taught her very well how to be ruthless. She unstoppered the potion and drank it all down in one gulp.

As the fluid slid down her throat, she felt his heart beating within her own and knew it wasn’t months or weeks but merely days that he had left himself. “So few!” She couldn’t help exclaiming in outrage!

Kormair shrugged. “It is done, and well.” He let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He smiled up at her mischievously. “You will, of course, give our enemies hell tonight, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Dulotiel answered with a shark like smile.

“Then I’m satisfied, and glad to be of service,” he said with a nod, clearly dismissing his one time student.

I'm an Aunt!

drannax — Sat, 18 Feb 2006 02:44:24 GMT

It's a Boy! My sis-in-law just gave birth to an 8 lb baby boy. Norman Vincent, perfectly healthy! *HUGE GRIN* That kid is going to be SO spoiled!

Oddly Fun

drannax — Wed, 11 Jan 2006 02:25:03 GMT

Ok, This little gem is addictive. So far my best score is 322.9.
http://n.ethz.ch/student/mkos/pinguin.swf

Meme thingy

drannax — Sat, 20 Aug 2005 03:35:06 GMT

1. Go here.
2. Pass it on.

1.~How did you meet deathly_white? He came to me on a very dark and interesting night.
2.~What would you do if you had never met crazy_dex? Put Amanda with Oscar
3.~What do you honestly think of james_garrison? He's an arrogant bastard, but I love him!
4.~Would or did deathly_white and decynthus go out? No! They are SO not each others' types!
5.~Have you ever liked deathly_white? Yes.
6.~If ls died tomorrow, what is one thing that you would need him/her to know? That she is an awesome person and friend!
7.~Would son_of_darkness and deathly_white make a good couple? HA!!! The Sodsta couldn't handle Ambrose!
8.~Describe chris_barrett in 3 words: Rich, pretty, lazy
9.~Do you think deathly_white is hot? Hell yeah!
10.~Would ls and deathly_white make a lovely couple? Muahahahaha! Until he ate her!
11.~What do you think of when you see decynthus? Friendship and caring.
12.~Tell me something humiliating about deathly_white: He has a tattoo that no one has found yet.
13.~Do you know any of deathly_white's family members? Yes, as a matter of fact, I do!
14.~What's deathly_white's favorite color? Purple, the color of royalty
15.~On a scale of 1-10 how cute is deathly_white? 100000000000000000000000000000000000
16.~What would you do if all_knowing just professed their undying love for you? Laugh, and tell him thanks, that's REALLY good to know!
17.~What language does deathly_white speak? Too many to keep track of!
18.~Who is deathly_white going out with? Whoever he wants to!
19.~Is laidenpierce a boy or a girl? Yes.
20.~Would deathly_white and all_knowing make a good couple? No way in Hell!
21.~Who do you think deathly_white would be great with from this list? James Garrison
22.~When was the last time you talked to deathly_white? A few nights back
23.~What is deathly_white's favorite band? Queen
24.~Does son_of_darkness have any siblings? Yes
25.~Would you ever date deathly_white? Yes
26.~Would you ever date chris_barrett? No
27.~Is deathly_white single? Occasionally
28.~What is deathly_white's last name? Vallerius
29.~What is deathly_white's middle name? He doesn't have one
30~What is james_garrison's fantasy? He won't allow me to divulge it in such a public forum
31.~Where does laidenpierce live? London originally
32.~Would you make out with deathly_white? Yep!!!!!
33.~Are crazy_dex and deathly_white best friends? They do not know each other yet.
34.~Does chris_barrett like deathly_white? You'd have to ask him that.
35.~How did you meet deathly_white? See number 1 above
36.~Is deathly_white older than you? Tons!
37.~Is deathly_white the sexiest person alive? Sexiest? Yeah, by a long shot...alive though...?

drannax — Wed, 06 Jul 2005 02:39:04 GMT

New Yahoo ID: Ok, I got the DSL hooked up, so if you guys gat an IM from : bergin.c@sbcglobal.net, it's me, Drannax.

drannax — Mon, 13 Jun 2005 05:38:58 GMT

ProfessorSnape has a thing for RemusLupin

What's Your Harry Potter OTP?
St. Dymphna's - A Harry Potter RPG

Quiz thingy

drannax — Tue, 03 May 2005 04:06:15 GMT

Personal News

drannax — Fri, 29 Apr 2005 00:56:17 GMT

Ok, So...I now own a house and here it is:

http://fctucker.katabat.com/content/propertyDetail.asp?listingNumber=2524792

Quiz Thingy

drannax — Mon, 11 Apr 2005 00:34:01 GMT

You scored as Aphrodite. You are connected with Aphrodite, Greek goddess of pleasure, sexual love and passion. Was born from the union of the sky and the fertile sea womb. Married to Hephaestus. Aphrodite teaches women who are seeking partnership, union, love, and pleasure that you must first learn how to love youself before you can ever love another.

</td>

Aphrodite

100%

Sekhmet

75%

Ix Chel

63%

Green Tara

56%

Isis

56%

Bast

50%

Which Goddess do you connect with? ---But this one's better.
created with QuizFarm.com

Quiz Thingy

drannax — Mon, 11 Apr 2005 00:27:14 GMT

You scored as Shiva. In Hindu mythology, Shiva, represents destruction. He is not an angry God, but will destroy if it brings balance to the earth.
He is also known to be a loving father and husband.
He has a strong erotic aspect and is often worshiped in the form of a phallus.
He is also shown as the cosmic dancer, source of all movement and creativity in the universe.

</td>

Loki

83%

Shiva

83%

Mercury

50%

Olokun

42%

Pan

33%

Cernunnos

25%

Which God do you connect with?
created with QuizFarm.com

For AWDT

drannax — Sun, 10 Apr 2005 18:35:40 GMT

Title: Boosting Morale
Author: Drannax
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Summary: A simple tactic of a wily wizard. Discussion between Snape and Dumbledore.
Notes: For jamie2109’s AWDT, prompt, pg. 347. I couldn't stop at just one...sorry.

From: A Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin: "His face was stern as he sent the men away with thanks."

From: Wolves of the Calla, by Steven King: They walked, high grass swishing against their pants."

From: Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice: "You can't imagine how it is with me!"

Severus was now Dumbledore's lieutenant. The Death Eaters had taken out Mc Gonnagall, Moody and Shacklebolt. With Hagrid being the Order's envoy to the non-human races, that left Snape to fill in the gaps. It didn't help that Voldemort was getting more paranoid and suspicious with every day that passed. He sighed, knowing that the end was near, and that there would be no rest for anyone until it was. He was just now finishing up hearing the reports of several spies. His face was stern as he sent the men away with thanks.

Dumbledore then walked into the small meeting room and crooked his finger. "Walk with me outside a while, Severus. We have some things to discuss." Severus rose and followed the great wizard outside. They walked, high grass swishing against their pants. "The prophecy tells us that Harry has the power to defeat Tom, as well as power Tom doesn't know, which I think is Harry's capacity for love. But it also says that neither can live while the other survives, which is a bit trickier to interpret, as they've both been 'living' for several years."

Severus scowled. "But can you really call it living when both are hounded by the mere thought of the other?" He, himself, felt as if he was barely keeping his head above water for the past few years. His personal life, what little there had been, had been put entirely on hold since the moment Harry had stepped foot inside Hogwarts. Plans had been dropped or put off, some friends had been ignored, while he'd had to re-establish and cultivate relationships he'd never wanted to return to.

Dumbledore noticed the dark rings around Snape's eyes, and the weariness in his posture, and looked at the man with concern and compassion. "I know this has been a difficult burden for you, Severus. Can you continue to uphold it?"

"You can't imagine how it is with me!" He snapped angrily. "Every day, every night, every single moment of the past 7 years I've had to pretend to be someone I'm not! And everyone thinks I'm the most horrible bastard in the world. I've no doubt some think I'm even worse than HIM! And yet, even though I hate it, there is NO way on Earth you will keep me from helping to take him down! So don't even THINK about ordering me to stand down, Albus. It's not going to happen!"

Dumbledore chuckled, happy to see the fire back in those night dark eyes of his. He patted the back of his former student, and smiled, offering Snape a mint humbug as they walked back to the Order's head quarters.

AWDT entry...read at your own risk, it's horrid!

drannax — Thu, 07 Apr 2005 05:28:38 GMT

Suzy Q said to Linda Liu that she loved Tommy Ross.
Barry Boo told them that he loved him too,
and smirked as they shudderingly gasped!

Tommy Ross was ridin' his hoss, No! Not that way, man!
When he saw Grady, who was ridin' HIS lady
And by whiplash found himself tossed.

Linda Liu said to Barry Boo, "I'd love to lick your palm."
Barry Boo looked to Suzy Q and said,
"Could you give her YOUR hand?"

Grady looked over his muscular shoulder to see what was going on.
The girly beneath him rose up to greet him, and said
"It's just the Soap that we're on."

Drabble written a while back

drannax — Thu, 07 Apr 2005 05:03:39 GMT

Sharp Edged Words

Black as the night, the shadow strayed, over the hoary fen.
Seeking to test the old adage that, the sword was weaker than the pen.
He sidled up, to the grove, which held, the poet thinking of life.
And with one swift, silent, deadly stroke cut off his hands with a knife.
He grabbed the poet, slitting his tongue, laughing with maddened glee.

"Tell, me, my friend, what say you now? When speaking to none can you
be."

The poet bowed low, ashamed and afeared, for he knew now the truth of the words.
Poetry lies, beauty dies, and the glorious doves are just birds.
Yet he still raised his head, eyes gleaming and red, and looked at the
Shade as it fled.
For the poet was right, and the truth still held might, and his eyes
Could still banish the dead.

Gacked from others.

drannax — Wed, 23 Feb 2005 22:50:27 GMT

Ten Things I've Done That Other People Might Not Have.

1. Taken a 2 week trip on horseback into the Bighorn mountains.
2. Been having sex in a car and got surprised by a cop knocking on the window...and NOT got carted off for it.
3. Been scared by a walking stick (Big, brown, spindly bug)appearing on my shoulder while digging up sassafrass roots for tea, fallen down the hill, stood up and screamed because it was still there looking back at me!
4. Lost my shoe in a mosh pit.
5. Had a boyfriend who dumped me come back several years later, when I was engaged, and want to get back together with me.
6. Went for a polar bear swim in the nude.
7. Got pissed at my manager for not giving me the one day I asked for off, and so took a 2 week trip to London instead.
8. Had chicken pox at the same time I had a broken leg. Still remember the torture of not being able to scratch beneath the cast.
9. Role played over 100 characters for one game.
10. Went snipe hunting on horse back.

Muahahaha!

drannax — Tue, 15 Feb 2005 00:09:21 GMT

hp_hardcore presents Hardcore Valentines! Click here to get your own!

Smirk

drannax — Fri, 11 Feb 2005 04:49:32 GMT

If there is someone on your friends list you would like to take, strip naked, tie them to a bed post, lick them until they scream, then screw them until both of you are senseless and unable to screw anymore, then wait about five minutes and do it all over again, then post this exact sentence in YOUR journal.

Meme thingy

drannax — Mon, 07 Feb 2005 22:51:15 GMT

You Have A Type A- Personality

A-

You are one of the most balanced people around
Motivated and focused, you are good at getting what you want
You rule at success, but success doesn't rule you.

When it's playtime, you really know how to kick back
Whether it's hanging out with friends or doing something you love!
You live life to the fullest - encorporating the best of both worlds

Do You Have a Type A Personality?

To the Sodsta

drannax — Sat, 22 Jan 2005 02:04:12 GMT

Ok, So I have no talent whatsoever with HTML and making things in this dang journal anything other than normal. So here it is, plain and simple.

Happy Birthday!

To a wonderful guy, who's heart is pure gold. I'm grateful to have met you. I know you are a brilliant writer, a true friend, whom I can depend on. You're honest, kind, brave, determined, and we can't forget to mention...lazy! Everything's out there for you, you just have to reach out and grab it. Don't be afraid to fuck up, and don't wait around forever. ~Cindy~

P.S. Ambrose, Nate, James, Rowena, Theron, Malachi, and all the rest send you their respective love, good wishes, and MANY birthday SPANKINGS!!!!!!!!!

drannax — Thu, 20 Jan 2005 03:41:04 GMT

You scored as Severus Snape. Your alter ego is Severus Snape. Well your a tricky one aren't you? Nobody quite has you figured out and you'd more than likely prefer it to stay that way. That said you are a formidable force on anybodies books, but there is certaintly more to you than a frosty exterior and a bitter temper.

</td>

Severus Snape

100%

Harry Potter

65%

Lord Voldemort

60%

Sirius Black

55%

Remus Lupin

55%

Peter Pettigrew

50%

Albus Dumbledore

40%

Hermione Granger

40%

Draco Malfoy

40%

Ron Weasley

35%

Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...?
created with QuizFarm.com

unfortunately...not a big surprise here

drannax — Tue, 14 Dec 2004 04:26:20 GMT

You scored as Lawful Good. A lawful good person acts as a good person is expected or required to act. They are dedicated to upholding both what is right and what is set down in law.

What is your Alignment?
created with QuizFarm.com</table>

drannax — Tue, 14 Dec 2004 04:19:00 GMT

You scored as The Dragon. Ancient, chaotic, and a bit mysterious is the Dragon figure. Awakened from your happy slumber upon a pile of gold, you go about the country slaying its occupants. Beowulf manages to kill you, but not before you ensure his death. Congrats.

If You Were in Beowulf...
created with QuizFarm.com</table>

For Those who Served

drannax — Tue, 09 Nov 2004 02:12:07 GMT

The stones were rolling into town today and Baxter heaved a heavy sigh. It was too damned beautiful a day outside for this, he thought. It should be cloudy, overcast and grey. The kind of day that would weigh heavily on a man and create a mood conducive to remembrance. Instead, it was bright and sunny outside, not a single cloud to be seen the entire city over. He went outside to gather in the paper and grimaced seeing the neighbors walking along with a spring in their steps, and not a care in the world crossing their happy faces.

Today the wall came to Springfield. Some soul in the nation's capital had birthed the idea to send round a copy of the Vietnam Memorial to all the cities of the nation. They were finally bringing the dead back home, even if in name only. The wall was a litany of death, standing testimony of acknowledgement of those who had served and fallen in the nation's war of youth. For that's what it had been, really. The young, inexperienced flowers of the nation going to fight for something no one could define. And the babies of the generation who did not go, fighting here at home to end what seemed like perpetual madness.

Baxter made his way down to the center of the city, to the verdant park where the memorial had been set up. There was already a diverse throng of people gathered to examine it. He saw the veterans in their cammies, shades, bandanas and beards; The well-tanned young who all seemed to be holding bouquets of flowers and wearing skimpy outfits suited to the weather today, and then the elderly, who, like himself, came dressed simply in slacks and oxfords, or simple dress and hat if they were female. The elderly all came quietly, like puffs of dandelions in the breeze, slowly drifting up, touching for a moment, then fading back away to be lost in the more colorful members of the gathered crowd.

Baxter walked around, circling the monument and threading his way through the crowds for a while, dreading to finally approach the Great List of Names. There had been rumors...hints and whispers that not every name was there, that something had been lost in translation from national monument to traveling side show. He hoped it wasn't true. As he stood there malingering, he was approached by a young girl, about 16, dressed in a bright yellow sundress. Her walnut shaded hair was caught up in a ribbon that matched the coloring of her dress. He smiled as the ghost of a song tumbled through his mind looking at her. She had an easy going, friendly smile and spoke to him kindly.

"I know it isn't much, but you can take something more than memories back with you, if you'd like."

She offered him a piece of paper and a small golfer's pencil. On the paper was written the name of the memorial, the dates of the war, and at the bottom, a little bit about the original in Washington, and the traveling exhibit as well. Between these two areas was a wide space of white, blank as freshly fallen snow. He took the offering and finally went to do what he came here for. He went up to the wall, and started reading. So many names. Each one was alive at one time, and they all had stories that ended unfinished. Here they were, all set in obsidian and alabaster, stacked so close that they swam together, blending into one united morass of letter soup. It took focus…and concentration…to bring meaning out of the whole and separate the strands back into the individuals they were in life. He owed it to them. He knew he would forget most of the names come tomorrow, those who weren’t his own, but for today, they would each be acknowledged and paid their due respect.

It took him hours, and there were many times he thought about just cutting to the chase, finding the one he was looking for and getting back to his normal daily existence. He didn’t. Baxter was a stubborn old cuss, and when he got tired or his back and feet started aching…he thought about his son, and what it must have been like over there with no comfort or home to return to at the end of the day. One day of so many hundreds lived to honor those who died. No. that wasn’t too much to ask. So he persevered and finally read the last name carved, with tears falling freely from his eyes. He then went back to the name that had hit him hardest, the named that defined his son. He took out the piece of paper the girl had given him and shakily covered the name as if laying a blanket over the sleeping form of a child. The hand holding the paper to the wall looked ancient. It was translucent yellowed cream lined with pale blue veins, thinly covering the bones. It looked as if it was fading away. Against the sheet of white, it made so little contrast. Baxter frowned as he noted this. Soon, there would be no one left who knew. He set pencil to paper and rubbed it against the wall with fury. The grey began to texture the paper turn white snow to ashy sludge. He cried out in relief when the name was dredged up from the murky smudge. The young girl had been right. He could take something more than memories home. It was ephemeral, true, nowhere near as lasting as the stone before him, but it was physical proof that his boy had lived and would bring him comfort in the twilight of his age.

November Picture Challenge

drannax — Sat, 06 Nov 2004 17:40:27 GMT

James walked along the path. The snow was fresh and deep, and the maintenance crews hadn’t even been out to lay down salt, much less shovel a path yet. But that was typical for city workers, especially this time of year. It was beautiful out here, that was true, but James found his appreciation of the scene lacking in direct relation to his lack of warm clothing. All he had on was a pair of torn jeans, a long sleeved shirt, socks, and sneakers. No hat, gloves, coat or even underwear. He felt lucky for the long sleeved shirt, which he had won a week ago in a poker game. His stomach growled, it had been almost two days since his last meal. Checking his one good pocket, he saw he had 2 quarters and a nickel. Looked like it might be a toss up as to whether he’d starve or freeze first.

He shivered and looked at his hands, wondering how long it would be before his fingers started turning blue and freezing up. He had tried to crowd in around the winos’ bin fire over on 42nd, but they had chased him off and told to go find his own fire. There had been too many of them, and there simply wasn’t anymore space. He was too small to fight them, being only 10 years old. He knew that if he went to one of the shelters, questions were going to be asked, and he would end up getting placed right back in the same foster shelter he’d recently broken out of. There was NO Way he was going back there! Not after everything that had happened.

He debated the wisdom of committing a crime right in front of a cop. On the one hand, it would land him in jail; give him somewhere warm to sleep and 3 meals a day, which was looking like a cushy prospect right about now. On the other hand though, it was jail. No exit, living by other people’s rules, ending up as somebody’s bitch, and he really didn’t like that idea at all. No, he’d save that for a last resort. He made his way through the park, hoping to find some street bum passed out from the booze he could steal a blanket or something off of. Pickings were slim to none today though, he could find any that weren’t awake and watchful.

He was getting tired and feeling exhausted. The lake was frozen over, but there were no kids or lovers out skating on it today, not when it was this cold. He’d over heard some guy saying that it was only twelve degrees, but with the wind chill added in it was like fifteen below! James believed it, too.

Up ahead, he saw a couple empty benches between two willow trees. He sighed and headed for them, thinking he’d just curl up and lie down for a few minutes before going on. Maybe with a bit of rest he could think of something better. He curled up on the bench, trying to keep his entire body heat close by putting his back to the wind and drifted off to sleep.

As he slept, an odd and misty fog crept in over the lake and settled over the park. It stole warmth the way a vampire steels blood, draining every ounce of comfort from the body of the sleeping boy. As the fog drew out the heat of his body, it left behind a dank and dreary chill that clung to the bones and permeated the skin. It felt like being wrapped in chilled slime.

James would have died that night, if Carson hadn’t found him and taken him in. Carson could not be called a nice man by any stretch of the imagination, but that was unimportant, at least to James. What mattered to him was that the man had saved his life. The things he had asked him to do in return were hard, and sometimes humiliating, but never fatal, and so the boy felt he had got the better end of the stick. Now he had a place to stay. He had 3 good meals a day. He still wasn’t sure why Carson had bothered to save him; it wasn’t in the man’s nature to do such a thing, from what James had been able to observe of him. But he got the feeling it was for something important, not along the man’s usual line of work either. So he bided his time, watched, worked, and learned, waiting to find out why this man had really saved him, and every time he passed the lake, wondered what Carson had been doing out there in the cold the day he found him.

The Picture for this story can be found here: Snowy</dl>

Ambrosian Christmas

drannax — Sat, 30 Oct 2004 22:27:13 GMT

This is my first fic. Generally, I don't do fics, but the picture inspired me. And now, on to "Ambrosian Christmas"

Ambrose walked along the cozy neighborhood lane in the dwindling light of winter. The sun had not fully set, but was far gone enough for him to safely venture out. It was the magical hour of evening, the ending of the day and birthing of the night, where people were just getting home from busy days at work, and settling in to relax and enjoy the night. A time when people were still feeling a lingering buzz from the day's activity, and looking forward to winding down.

And at this time of year, especially, people liked staying close to home, surrounding themselves with family. This meant pickings around here were very slim for him. He snarled at the home he saw glowing with the good cheer of a family and the love they so obviously shared.

A wreath encircled an old fashioned, but well cared for post lantern, there was a path cleared through the snow leading up to the porch, a silly snowman grinned away happily in the freezing outside air, and all the windows of the house were lit up with a warm, inviting glow. Smoke rose from the chimneys, indicating that the interior was even cozier than the yard, and the stone wall...reminded him of the walls the Picts had thrown up against the Romans so many years ago.

He'd been off in China in the years the Christ boy lived and died, had missed out on that drama entirely. He shook his head thinking about how drastically one man could change the world. Even now, over 2000 years later, the man's sigils were scattered all over the world, permeating almost every culture on Earth.

And yet, things still went on pretty much the same way they always had. Styles changed, but people remained the same. Some were sheep, some wolves...some good, some bad, many still indifferent. He admitted to himself that Christ had a hell of a track record when it came to the staying power of gods, but thinking back, it seemed that there was little change in the overall masses of people. To Ambrose's mind, it seemed like Christianity was something people strived to embrace, but failed to enact, as if the ideal enchanted their minds, but never really quite reached the day to day moments of their lives. So many times, he had seen it...a person professing to faith and love of Christ, who, when faced with the chance to show it through their actions, instead became petty and hypocritical.

Rarely, someone would surprise him, and show such kindness and true love of mankind that it touched him. But those moments were few and far between. He sent his mind out to explore the inhabitants of this house, wondering what he would find in such a clean and cozy setting. Scanning the abode he found 2 adults: one male, one female…a teenager…male and two younger children, one of each gender. He smiled grimly and approached the house. Obtaining an invitation inside would be child’s play for one such as him. He wasn’t wrong, either. Once inside, he chatted for awhile with the parents, learning that the woman was named Elizabeth, and that she was a simple homemaker, and the head of the house was called Martin, and had a good job as an investment broker down at the local bank.

So far there was no sign of the offspring. So Ambrose inquired as to whom had created the well made snowman who adorned their charming yard. Elizabeth blushed at the compliment, but kept her eyes downcast and let her husband do the speaking. “Ah! That would be the handiwork of the twins, Lisa and Lawrence, our little rascals!” He informed Ambrose. Martin could tell by the way Ambrose dressed that here was a man of means, decked out in a stylish black wool coat, dark tweed pants, and a grey cashmere sweater. He had also taken due note of Ambrose’s watch, and shoes, both of which were top of the line and of finest quality. Martin figured that the man’s ensemble had to cost more than he himself made in a week, and was therefore bending over backwards to ingratiate himself.

Martin then bade his wife go and fetch the children and make sure there was plenty of food for everyone as he insisted that Ambrose stay for supper. Ambrose smirked and accepted his invitation, knowing that his idea of dinner and this man’s would hardly be the same. Moments later there was a thunder of footsteps tromping down the stairway, and the two younger kids came skidding into the room laughing uproariously as they each claimed to have beaten the other.

Ambrose wanted a closer look at the wife, but knew that Martin wouldn’t hear of him going into the kitchen after something like a glass of water for himself, but that the man would insist on fetching it for him or making one of the children do so. Instead, Ambrose asked for directions to the bathroom, and was pleased that he would have to go through the kitchen to get to it. He took the opportunity on the way through to speak for a moment with the wife. And although she kept her demeanor modest, there was a flirtatious twinkle in her eyes that told him much about her morality. Plus, he could smell the scent of another man still upon her, and he chuckled as he walked away, wondering if her husband was completely oblivious.

So far the only member of the family he had not met was the eldest child, but he got his chance as soon as dinner was served. Martin introduced him as Brandon, and Ambrose noted that he looked nothing like his father. Brandon proved to be very sharp, ignoring the way Ambrose was dressed and asking very pointed questions. He was the type that seemed never satisfied, and it was obvious he taxed his father’s patience immensely. Ambrose found himself liking this child. After dinner, Martin asked him into the drawing room for a brandy cordial, which Ambrose graciously accepted. Martin made no move to invite in his wife and told Ambrose to leave the dishes as she would handle them.

Ambrose listened to the man’s tedious patter for all of about 10 minutes before he decided to put himself out of his misery. As Martin was gearing up for yet another discourse on a good investment prospect, Ambrose struck. He grabbed the man by the lapels and sank his fangs in deep, draining the man’s life away so fast Martin didn’t even have time to look surprised. Ambrose blotted away the few drops that had escaped his lips, and sealed the wound with his tongue, leaving an uninjured but bloodless corpse behind, sitting in the chair, looking as if he had just dozed off. Ambrose then strode silently through the hallway to the kitchen.

Ambrose came up to Elizabeth from behind, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his groin to her ass. She was startled, and tried to fend him off, blushing and acting innocent as any proper housewife should. Her body however, betrayed her, and Ambrose found it easy to overcome her objections by mentioning that her husband had passed out due to his overindulgence in the brandy. After that, it wasn’t long at all before he had her stripped and pliant beneath him, begging him to ravish her even more. He grinned down at her and told her he’d be delighted to oblige her, then sank his fangs in and pounded into her until she climaxed and faded away from life.

Sated for the moment, he dressed himself again, and walked out the door, whistling a merry tune of the season. He knew that by leaving the younger children alive, he would crush the dreams of the eldest child, who would now be forced to set aside his dreams and ambitions, and hopes for the future, as he now would have to find a way to care for his siblings. Ambrose could almost see the look in the boy’s eyes, many years from now, full of regrets and broken aspirations, working some dead end job just to make ends meet. All in all, Ambrose had had a Very Merry Christmas!

And here's the link to the picture that inspired the story: NAME OF LINK

drannax — Fri, 10 Sep 2004 04:58:41 GMT

Just to explain, I was born and spent half my life in Michigan, and oddly enough, I relate to more of these than I do the ones from Indiana.

You Know You're From Michigan When...

You define summer as three months of bad sledding.

You think Alkaline batteries were named for a Tiger outfielder.

You can identify an Ohio accent.

Your idea of a seven-course meal is a six pack and a bucket of smelt.

Owning a Japanese car is a hanging offense in your hometown.

You know how to play (and pronounce) Euchre.

The Big Mac is something that you drive across.

You believe that "down south" means Toledo.

You bake with soda and drink pop.

You drive 75 on the highway and you pass on the right.

Your Little League baseball game was snowed out.

You learned how to drive a boat before you learned how to ride a bike.

You know how to pronounce "Mackinac".

The word "thumb" has a geographical rather than an anatomical significance.

You have experienced frostbite and sunburn in the same week.

You expect Vernor's when you order ginger ale.

You know that Kalamazoo not only exists, but that it isn't far from Hell.

Your favorite holidays are Christmas, Thanksgiving, the opening of deer season and Devil's Night.

Your snowmobile, lawn mower and fishing boat all have big block Chevy engines.

At least one person in your family disowns you for the week of the Michigan/Michigan State football game.

You know what a millage is.

Traveling coast to coast means driving from Port Huron to Muskegon.

Half the change in your pocket is Canadian, eh.

You show people where you grew up by pointing to a spot on your left hand.

You know what a "Yooper" is.

Your car rusts out before you need the brakes done

Half the people you know say they are from Detroit... yet you don't personally know anyone who actually lives in Detroit

"Up North" means north of Clare.

You know what a pastie is.

You occasionally cheer "Go Lions- and take the Tigers with you."

Snow tires come standard on all your cars.

At least 25% of your relatives work for the auto industry.

You don't understand what the big deal about Chicago is.

Octopus and hockey go together as naturally as hot dogs and baseball.

You know more about chill factors and lake effect than you'd EVER like to know!

Your snowblower has more miles on it than your car.

Shoveling the driveway constitutes a great upper body workout.

When giving directions, you refer to "A Michigan Left."

You know when it has rained because of the smell of worms.

You never watch the Weather Channel - you can just assume they're wrong.

The snowmen you make in your front yard actually freeze. Solid.

The snow freezes so hard that you can actually walk across it and not break it or leave any marks.

All your shoes are called "tennis shoes", even though no one here plays tennis anyway.

Your major school field trip includes camping and cross-country skiing.

Half your friends have a perfect sledding hill right in their own backyard.

You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Michigan.

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Ambrosian Christmas

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