Mutability Cantos

Fic: Time Stands Still: A Joan of Arcadia and Jeremiah Crossover - Prologue

2011-09-19T11:53:09Z

"Ironically, her internal clock stopped as the world devolved to chaos."

Title: Time Stands Still
Part One: Prologue
Series: To Be Determined
Crossover: Joan of Arcadia and Jeremiah
Author's Note: I've wanted to write this for years. I finally threw the plan out the window and started typing. No, I don't know where it's going anymore!
Beta: Not Yet.
Feedback: Please, rip it apart! I really mean it! Go for the throat! Nicely? I'm a process writer and strongly believe in revision. While this is not a 30 minute first draft (oh dear, more like ~~three~~ four hours worth of work - I am way out of the game these days), I still need pointers. I need strong starts to sentences, elimination of the blah-blahs, rewriting of cliches, and need to kill the passive voice. I will work on rewriting when I figure out my GRE schedule and how to write a cogent persuasive essay in less than twenty minutes! Also, I need to streamline, streamline, streamline...yes, I've basically gone insane!
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to someone else. (In other words, I'll beef up the disclaimer a bit later. I know Jeremiah was developed for Showtime by JMS, and JOA created by Barbara Hall and Eric Kripke for CBS). Plot is mine. Song lyric is from "Time," sung by Chantal Kreviazuk. What If It All Means Something. 2002: Hit Factory Studios, Sony; NY.

Time Stands Still

Prologue

'Time, Where Did You Go?'
...Old World Song Lyric

She once told Him that she didn't want to grow up. Ironically, her internal clock stopped as the world devolved to chaos. In retrospect, the war against Ryan Hunter served to exercise her organization and delegation skills more than anything else. Exercise, as in another training exercise to prepare her for the greater Evil soon to be unleashed in the world - something so insidious that without her friends, Joan would have missed it altogether. Hints from Ya-Ya, Him, or not.

Too soon, the Big Death left behind a world full of children without parents, without comfort, and without hope. Joan quickly, and painfully, learned she couldn't save them all, but could try to save as many as possible. With help, she could create a safe place for them. Some, sadly, didn't want to be saved. Determination and resilience drove her in her tasks. Ripples led to this? None of it made sense to her and His direct hints seemed to come less frequently the more frantically she worked. She felt angry; She tried not to blame Him. She didn't learn for many years that this Evil was created by humanity.

In the Old World, they called her Joan: sub-defective teen and daughter of the Art Teacher the Police Chief. In the New World, they called her Saint Jane: Keeper of the Children's Sanctuary, Sister of Luke and Grace, Friend of Adam and Emissary to the Seer Helena, and Hope for Every Child in The World. The order was a tall one for her to fill, but Joan was going to do her best even though the Ryan Hunters of the World were still out there trying to stop her.

Saint Jane always seemed to know when to rescue groups of children from impossible situations. No one knew who she was; no one could describe her, except say she was a young girl or woman. This was immutable.

As the Old World ended with the Big Death, nearly every human soul who reached puberty and above died. Some were immune, some were locked away in special research facilities, and some reacted to the virus in unexpected ways.

Jeremiah always heard tales about Saint Jane as he searched for his father and Valhalla Sector. She inspired hope and longing in every lonely child that day-dreamed about her, waiting for her or his rescue. She was like Wendy from Peter Pan, flying happy children off to Never Never Land, where they would never go hungry, or hurt again. After his brother died, Jeremiah wished and wished for this story into fruition, clapped his hands for Tinkerbell - not that she had anything to do with Saint Jane, or Saint Jane had anything to do with Wendy, really - hoping that she would come and take him away from the hurt and salve his grief.

Eventually, fairly quickly, he figured out the fairy tale for what it was. Reports spanning fifteen years stated Saint Jane as a young girl, sometimes like Snow White (all pale skin and dark hair), sometimes like Cinderella (blond and blue eyes), and sometimes like Jasmine (sultry green eyes, olive skin, and a flying carpet). Jeremiah personally liked the Wendy and the Lost Boys story best, but point was none of it was real. Nothing like the Children's Sanctuary ever scouted true on any of his or Markus' maps. Of course she and the whole business was one honking fairy tale. No one rescued anyone these days; you had to rescue yourself. At least Jeremiah knew Valhalla Sector existed, or did at one time.

Annoyingly, Kurdy (secret philosopher, poet, and fish thief) insisted that Saint Jane was a secret African Princess who transported those she rescued to the Dark Continent by magical portal. While eating some of his stolen fish that first night, Kurdy regaled him with a childhood tale about 'Jane of the Jungle', proceeded to vocally slaughter a jaunty tune in homage, and waited for some kind of applause with a mischievous smirk. Jeremiah didn't take the Saint Jane legend personally anymore, so Kurdy survived his stolen meal.

Irony plays out in many forms, because before Jeremiah came to Thunder Mountain, meeting the real-life Wendy of Never-Never Land was the last thing he expected.

to be continued...

NaNo a Bust

2009-12-05T23:33:32Z

Well, it seem to be for me :0

Bastet - will review your fic soon - been getting over this stupid blahness.

I've looked over the body of work I've produced in the last six years and have not been inspired.

I'll soon post The Sacrifice, originally written in 1994 for Miracles Fandom, less than 1000 words, and in need of a rewrite. Seriously, I need to pick it apart and shove it through the blender.

I need to watch last season's Sactuary. What happened to Ashley? Did something terrible happen to the actress? Was she too pretty? Did she ever come back? Urg! I'm behind.

Also, Dollhouse is cancelled. I finally decided to like it, and now it's day's are numbered. They shouldn't have cancelled SCC.

I shouldn't be complaining about this here, though....

~Innogen

Sanctuary Fic in progress...

2009-10-30T13:36:58Z

This is a new fic I've been working on. I told innogen about it and she nudged me about posting it here. :-) So, here it is. It's not finished yet. I've been struggling a bit. Unfamiliar fandom and unfamiliar time period.

This is set in the Sanctuary universe at the time of The Five in Victorian London.

Working Title - Nikola and the Source Blood

by
OXBastetXO

Nikola Tesla paced as they waited for the others to join them. It was his turn - his turn to find what the Source Blood secrets held for him. The Source Blood from the ancient Sanguine Vampire. Source Blood which held so many secrets. Secrets in which they were trying to delve. Secrets that did they have any rights to know? Secrets they couldn’t help wonder if they had any right to know...

It seemed like years ago, Helen Magnus had proposed this. The five of them had somehow come together in their quest to delve into the secrets beyond the knowledge the world possessed. Helen Magnus, John Druitt, James Watson, Nigel Griffin and himself had started this quest for knowledge and now it was his turn.

He took a deep breath to steady himself before the others joined them and turned his mind to the new design he had been building in his mind of a series of generators that could be run in tandem to create continuous power. He focused at a particularly confounding magnet placements that had been eluding him. He rubbed his hands nervously and started pacing again, picking at his nails as he walked, his mind refusing to focus where he wanted it to. It kept wandering back to the events of the last few days.

Helen had been the first. Her great blue eyes wide with anticipation and fear as he had plunged the syringe into her arm. They were still not sure exactly what gifts she had been granted, but at least it was not something adverse. Evolution, Helen had first called it referring to Darwin's theory. They were spurring advancement of human evolution in their bodies.

John had been next. Druitt and Helen had been all moon eyes with each other before she had finally gotten around to injecting him. Nikola had stood and watched as the serum from the Source Blood had disappeared into the large man's arm. Pain had ripple across Druitt's features as he answered Helen and James' questions documenting what each of them experienced. After a few hours something changed and the transformation truly was underway. John told him he felt something strange and then...an energy almost akin to electricity had rippled across him and he had vanished only to reappear on the other side of the room. He had stared at them a moment in shock before fainting dead away. It was not until nearly noon the next day, he had woken. Psychoportation, Helen had called it. The use of one's mind instantaneously transfer matter from one point to another. James had proposed the term ‘teleportation’ and he had to admit, that did have a better ring to it.

They had nearly stopped there, but they had each made a pledge to carry through with this. Nigel had been next and his gift was...astounding. One moment, he had sat there describing the odd sensations he was feeling and then the next, they all stared at an empty suit of clothing with Nigel Griffon's voice coming from it. Before their very eyes, he had vanished. Invisible to the naked eye, but still there. His body had somehow developed a way to bend light around him to effectively hide him in plain sight. Well, him, his clothes were another matter.

James had followed shortly after. Despite some discomfort he described from the injection, they were not sure much had happened, until afterward Nikola and Watson had been discussing his new theory on alternating current and concepts he had been having trouble getting James to understand started to flow and Nikola himself was finding that he had to work to keep up with the man's intellect. Nikola could only hope that his own experience with the Source Blood would be so...enlightening.

“Nikola?” Helen said softly, walking over to him. “If you're not sure--” she started, but he cut her off.

“No, I'll do it. I gave my word.” He gave her a tight smile. “Perhaps it will be as James and I will be even a greater genius that I already am. Would it be fair to deprive the world of such a mind?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and in response she sighed, with a long suffering smile.

“Of course,” she said, slipping her arm in his and leading back to the arm chair that had been the seat of all their experiments. The others had arrived and were waiting for him.

Nikola felt his stomach knot in anticipation as he sat down lightly in the chair. “Yes, here we are,” he said lightly, attempting to cover his fear with bravado. “Shall we get on with this? Posterity is waiting for my insight,” he said, shifting to make himself comfortable in the chair. He gripped the armrests tightly with his hands. He caught himself and relaxed his grip.

James Watson rolled his eyes and positioned himself at a table facing him, journal open to document the procedure. “Right,” he said, dipping his pen into the inkwell, not bothering to hide his irritation. “You should prepare yourself, there will be some discomfort once Helen injects the serum.”

“I think I'm prepared after you and John's histrionics,” he jabbed.

Druitt glared at him. “We see about that. Now, won't we,” he rumbled ominously.

Nikola watched as Helen filled the syringe with the serum and carried it over to him. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, her blue eyes boring into him, searching for hesitation.

“Yes,” he said softly, folding up his left sleeve and holding his arm out to her.

Helen gave him one last measured look and then plunged the syringe into his arm.

Nikola grimaced as syringe bit into his arm. He could feel the pressure of the liquid as it was injected and then it started. He gasped as what felt like what could only be described as electricity danced up his arm and into his chest.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” James demanded.

Helen slipped her hand into his. “Talk to us, Nikola.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, hunched forward over his arm. “Electricity,” he managed to squeeze out, a vice like pressure in his chest increasing by the moment, while pain danced though him and sparked the edges of his vision. The flashes of light which had plagued him all his life taking on form and dancing erratically through his field of vision. He struggled to draw air into his lungs. “Hard...to...breathe,” he wheezed, his native accent he had worked so hard to hide slurring his words. “Bog unutra nebo,” he ground out as a new pain tore though his midsection and exploded upward. He could hear the others scramble to him as consciousness fled.

* * * * *

Cold.

Lightening danced, flashing and burning.

Hunger. Hunger gnawing so painfully that it became his whole being. He could hear something. Something beating. Beating so rapidly. Beating that made his blood sing. He could taste fear and it only made him want it more. He ached with the hunger. Then blackness again.

* * * * *
Consciousness came slowly. Nikola tried to shift, but his arms felt trapped in something, pinning him. He felt...wrong. Something was wrong...with him. Panic gripped him and stole his breath. Images flashed through his mind. Lightening, bright, crackling. Lightening so close he could taste the ozone. Ozone and something else. Something metallic, like copper...or iron.

A shiver tore through him, shaking him so hard his teeth rattled. His teeth...there was something wrong with....his teeth.

“John, no! We can't!” Helen's voice cut through his rambling thoughts. “We must help him.”

He could hear others voices hushed and strained. He closed his eyes focusing on the voices.

“Are you sure?” he could hear Nigel asking, an unaccustomed note of fear tinging his words.

He heard the scrap of a chair against the floorboards and someone start pacing.

“That should hold him for now, but it won't be enough. He'll need more.” James sounded worried.

“Father said he would be able to get us more by morning, but the sedative should hold until we have it.”

“If he can hold out that long.”

“He will. We'll help him.”

“Helen, you're being naive. You're assuming he can control the blood lust. Restraint is not one of Nikola's strong suites and you know that.”

“John, he needs us. We did this to him. It is our responsibility to help him.”

“We did not 'do' this to Helen. He choose this, just like the rest of us. He walked into this with his eyes open.”

Nikola took a ragged breath to focus himself and he struggled to sit up. Something strained and dug painfully into his wrists. He ground his teeth and pulled. He felt a snap and suddenly his hands were free. He rolled over onto his side and he tumbled out onto the floor. He lay there in a heap, trying to gather himself. He brought a hand up to his face and stared. His eyes traveled up the bit of chain connected to the shackle surrounding his wrist. The chain was stretched and broken. He lifted his other hand and found a similar one on that wrist as well. Something crimson trickled down his arm from where the shackle had cut into his wrist. He watched in in fascination, leaned forward his tongue reaching out for the ruby drop. He could smell the blood. He groaned with anticipation. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing and bile surged in his throat. He rolled onto his hands and knees, his stomach heaving.

“Good Lord, Nikola.”

He felt arms wrap around him and a familiar scent. He knew that scent. He turned his head to look at James. He felt a blanket wrap around his bare shoulders. He was naked. He hadn't realized that before. He looked at James and asked, “Šta događaj pretiti?” He had meant that to come out in English, but he couldn't seem to find those words right now.

“What did he say?” Nigel asked as they lifted him back to the bed.

“He wants to know what is happening to him,” James said softly.

Nikola stared at him. Since when did James speak his native language?

James gave him a small smile. “The primer you gave me finally has made sense. Though rudimentary, I am getting a better grasp of your native tongue.”

Nikola nodded, his head falling forward, his hair falling down into his eyes. “Te je ne odgovor moj sumnja. Šta dogoditi se?” he asked. James was stalling and he knew it. Something happened. Something very bad. He looked at the chains on his wrists. “Šta je JA činiti?“

Nigel looked at James expectantly. “He wants to know what happened. What he did,” James said softly.

Nikola felt James shift beside him as he sat on the bed. “You didn't do something, it's more of what could have happened.” He looked at Nigel and then over towards the doorway. Nikola followed his eyes. John and Helen stood in the doorway. “The Source Blood changed each of us. Your transformation was a bit more—dramatic.”

“Dramatičan kako?” Nikola whispered.

James looked at the other. Helen broke in, stepping forward finally. “Nikola, it would seem you have traits, traits the rest of us do not have.”

“Šta crta?” he asked not sure he wanted to know.

Helen looked at James to translate for them.

“He wants to know what traits,” James said flatly.

Helen came and knelt before him. He pulled the blanket closer as she moved to him headless of modesty. “Nikola, it would seem you already had latent traits of the Sanguine Vampire in your blood. The Source Blood triggered a transformation in you and--” she struggled with how to say it.

“JA sam jedan Vampir,” he finished for her.

“Yes, you are,” James said softly. “But not fully. You're still partly human from what we've been able to understand.”

Nikola nodded, feeling sick. A monster, he had turned into a monster. He knew the stories in his homeland of Vampir. What they did. He looked sharply at James. “Je JA raniti netko?”

Helen looked at James. “He wants to know if he hurt anyone.”

“No,” she said softly, reaching out to cup his cheek in her hand. “You haven't hurt anyone. The chains were merely to protect you and us while you finish the transformation. Father says you aren't finished yet. You feel weak and sick don't you?” she asked and he nodded. “Your body is struggling to cope with what is happening. Father is bring more blood for you.”

He looked at her sharply and then he nodded. He closed his eyes again as the weight of what she said sank in. Her Father. He remembered her fear at her Father finding out what they were doing with the Source Blood. It was out now and it was because of him.

He winced as his stomach knotted. It felt like hunger pangs, but worse. So much worse. Like his insides were clawing their way out. A hunger so deep it was if he had not eaten in weeks. It was then that he heard it again. That pulsing sound again. Only stronger and closer. He could almost feel it. It made his blood crackle like electricity in his veins. He needed it. He had to have it. Hunger swept through him doubling him over. He could smell it. He could...

Horror washed through him as he realized what it was. Helen. Her blood. He could smell it, feel her blood pulsating in her veins. He wanted her blood. In panic, he shoved himself away from her, backpedaling on the bed until he smacked painfully into the headboard. He curled in himself, crying, “Bog unutra nebo neka smjesta umrem! Ugoditi ubiti mene!”

“John, it's started again,” James called and Nikola could hear the big man coming.

“Easy,” John said soothly, sitting beside him on the bed. He held a glass of wine. “Nikola, you need to drink this. It's just wine. It will help.”

With a little coxing, they managed to get him to drink a bit of it. He grimaced at the bitter aftertaste. Laudanum. He took the glass from John and gulped it down, nearly choking on it.

“Easy,” John said, rubbing his back as he coughed.

Nikola leaned against him as he felt the drug start to take affect. John and James eased him down on the bed covering him with the blanket. Nikola grabbed James' wrist before the opium dragged his eyes closed.“Obećanje mene taj te volja ubiti mene da JA probati za raniti Helen. Obećanje mene!” He tightened his grip on James' wrist. “Obećanje mene!”

James grabbed his hand, wincing. “I promise,” he said finally.

Nikola nodded, finally succumbing to the drug induced sleep.

* * * * *

Nikola woke slowly. He didn't want to move. His body felt heavy and warm. His tongue felt thick and a vile taste filled his mouth.

'Nikola?” a hand brushed his forehead and he frowned. Father? “Nikola, come. I need you to wake.” A hand gently tapped his cheek. The voice didn't sound like his Father. His Father's voice boomed and resonated as he spoke. He could fill the whole Church when he read from the Holy Scriptures.

He felt the bed shift and the voice moved away. “How much laudanum did you give him?” the voice demanded.

There was a pause.

“Tell me, John,” the voice demanded.

“Nearly an ounce,” came the answer.

“Good Lord, man! Were you trying to kill him?” the voice hissed angrily. “If not for his transformation, you would have killed him. You may have yet. He needs to feed or his body will destroy itself.”

“Gregory, you didn't see him,” Druitt whispered back. “You didn't see his eyes.”

“John, he's a Vampire. That does not make him a demon. He's still Nikola, just—different. He will learn to control this, but he needs our help now, not our fear.”

Nikola pushed himself up as best he could. His eyes refused to focus completely on the men standing close to the door. The room was so bright. He could only see a small lamp lit on the table, but it burned so bright it made his eyes water. He groaned as a bone deep ache bored through him, despite the numbing pull of the drug that muddied his brain. Hunger gnawed at him. Hunger so deep it made it hard to think.

“Kill me.” He forced the words out. Weakness and laudanum making the words stiff in his mouth. His accent slurred the words so badly he wasn't sure they could understand him. “Kill me before I kill you,” he said softly.

Gregory Magnus hurried back to the bed and helped Nikola sit up, shifting pillows behind his back to hold him up. “You won't, Nikola. You just need to feed and then you will be able to think more clearly.”

Nikola shook his head. A Vampir. He was turning into a Vampir. A monster. “Kill me. God forgive me, kill me,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes closed.

“You won't,” Gregory told him. He captured Nikola's chin in his hand, forcing his head up. “You're not becoming a monster, but you are changing. Sanguine Vampires were not the demons legend has made them. They were simply another species of human. A variation. Not demons or the undead. You are very much alive, but you will not stay that way unless you listen to me and do as I say.”

Nikola swallowed hard and finally met Gregory's eyes. What he found there was understanding. The eyes of a Doctor treating his patient. Not the fear and loathing he had anticipated, expected.

“Do you trust me?” Gregory asked simply.

Nikola nodded, not trusting his voice.

Gregory nodded, smiling. “Good.” He glanced back over his shoulder to John. “Get me my bag.” Druitt paused a moment. “Now, John,” Gregory ordered sharply.

The large man scrambled to obey and disappeared into the other room.

“Father?” Helen. Even through the haze enveloping his senses he could recognize her voice. He turned towards her voice and the gasp of fear that tore from her, cut him to the soul. He hung his head. He feel the tiny spark of hope for his humanity that Gregory had given him die and grow cold.

He heard her hesitant steps on the floor as she approached.

“Nikola.” Helen's hand rested lightly on his arm. He jerked as if touched by a live wire.

He shifted to hide his face in his hands, but something scraped his face. He stared at his hands on horror. His carefully manicure nails had turned to talons. Claws like that of some beast. A whimper of fear slipped from him.

“Father?” Helen's voice held a note of alarm.

“It's begun again,” Gregory stated simply. “He must feed now.”

Nikola could hear the clink of glass on metal and then the smell hit him. The wondrous, glorious smell that made his being ache and tingle at once as if live current was passing through him.

He felt Gregory's strong grip on his arm and a cup in his hands and then everything else just melted away until all that was left was feeling of lightning flashing through his mind and setting him on fire.

* * * * *

Nikola woke slowly, stretching. Lord, what dreams. He had always had a vivid imagination, but it usually kept to more conventional subjects. Not typically monsters and demons. He scrubbed his hands over his face and frowned at the stiffness of his mustache. His hands smelled of copper. His frown deepened and he opened his eyes. Sunlight filtered into the room through the single window. This wasn't his room. Lazily, he watched motes of dust with fascination as they danced through the shafts of light. The light held an orange cast of sunrise or was it sunset?

What was he doing here? He shifted to sit up and found he was naked. What was he doing here and where were his clothes? Images from his nightmare flooded back over him but he pushed those away. That was ludicrous. That was a dream. Things like that didn't happen.

The door creaked open slowly and he looked over to see Helen peeking her head in. A relieved smile lightened her face. "Nicola, you're awake!"

He felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. He had often dreamed of having Helen alone in his room, but not like this. “Helen!” he gasped, grabbing the blanket from the bed to cover himself, but she didn't seem to notice.

“I'll let Father know you're awake,” she said before darting back out the door.

Nikola started to look around for his clothes. He didn't want anyone else to catch him in such a compromised position. He frowned when he saw a bit of grey fabric wadded up and shoved into one of the corners of the room. He slowly got to his feet, gritting his teeth against the bone grinding ache that washed through him as he put his weight on his feet. The room swam sickeningly and he reached to grab hold of the table beside the bed. His hand grazed the edge of the table knocking it sideways as his knees buckled, refusing to support him any longer. He landed heavily on the floor his shoulder striking painfully against the the floorboards. Darkness swirled and danced before his eyes.

The door to the room flew open and he heard anxious voices, but he couldn't focus on any of them as darkness swirled and danced before his eyes. It felt like he was falling. The voices kept getting farther and farther away as if he was falling down a well. He tried to fight it, but the darkness swallowed him.

* * * * * *
“I think he's starting to come around,” a voice said from somewhere over him and he felt a cold cloth rest on his forehead. The cloth felt good against his hot face, but he felt like a swooning woman. This was getting ridiculous he couldn't even get to his feet without fainting.

Nikola groaned and reached his hand up to push the cloth away. His head hurt abominably and he felt as limp as an old rag.

“Leave it,” Gregory Magnus said, catching his hand. “You are feverish. It will pass after you feed again. Your body is going through a great deals of changes, but it will settle itself soon enough. You will need to feed regularly, but in exchange you will be granted heightened senses, speed, agility, and lengthened life.”

Nikola felt his mouth go dry. “It wasn't a dream then.”

Gregory smiled gently. “No,” he said simply. “Foolhearty and ill conceived, but not a dream. I have found everything I have at my disposal on the history of Sanguine Vampires for you. It is very unlike the tales I am sure you have heard in your homeland. They were neither fables nor demons. They were a race of people with great gifts and great knowledge. You have studied history. You know of the Pharaohs and Caesars.”

Nikola nodded slowly. “The rulers of the ancient world.”

“They were also the original full blood Sanguine Vampires,” Gregory continued. “But none remain. Long ago, fear hunted them and destroyed them, but not their descendants,” he said, watching Nikola. “Somewhere in your linage, there was a Vampire. The Source Blood brought out their heritage in you.”

“You're not a monster, Nikola.”

Nikola looked up sharply. He hadn't noticed Helen until she spoke. He pulled the blanket covering him farther up his chest, suddenly feeling self conscious. “Helen, you shouldn't be here,” he told her. “You shouldn't see this.”

“Why Nikola? Because you have become an Abnormal?” she asked, giving her Father a guilty look. She turned back to Nikola. “If you haven't noticed. We all are now. All five of us.” Her earnest blue eyes bored into him, “we are all a part of this.”

Nikola looked at Gregory. “How long? How long until this is over?”

Gregory sat back in his chair and sighed. “A few more days and then afterward, we will work out a schedule of feeding. You will need blood or you will grow weak and ill. Your body is no longer able to make the amount of blood you need to fuel your altered body.”

“So, this is how I survive now,” he said quietly. A living leech, living off the blood of others.

Gregory chuckled. “No, I am sorry. I did not make myself clear. You will only need the blood periodically to supplement you. You will live much as you have. Eating and drinking what you wish, at least that is what Helen and I have gleaned through our study.”

Helen nodded, smiling hopefully at him.

He closed his eyes, the ache in his head getting worse.

Gregory pressed a glass to his lips. “Drink. This will help.”

Nikola took a sip of the wine and he tasted the bitter aftertaste of laudanum again. He drank it down, letting the drug take him away from this insanity if just for a time.

Serbian and translations:

“Šta događaj pretiti?”
“What's happening to me?”

“Te je ne odgovor moj sumnja. Šta dogoditi se?”
“You didn't answer my question. What happened?”

“Šta je JA činiti? “
“What did I do?”

“Dramatičan kako?”
“Dramatic how?”

“Šta crta?”
“What traits?”

“JA sam jedan Vampir.”
“I am a Vampire.”

“Je JA raniti netko?”

“Did I hurt anyone?”

“Bog unutra nebo neka smjesta umrem! Ugoditi ubit mene!”
“God in heaven strike me dead! Please kill me!”

“Obećanje mene taj te volja ubiti mene da JA probati za raniti Helen. Obećanje mene!”

“Promise me that you will kill me if I try to hurt Helen. Promise me!”

“Obećanje mene!”
“Promise me!”

NaNoWriMo INSANO Support

2009-10-28T08:15:34Z

Since I always maintained that this area was a process writing area - a support writing group, a safe place to post among friends before posting to the big bad world, for the next few months it seems it will become a NaNoWrMo support group. If you don't want your posts seen by the outside world simply lock them. Don't worry about the people signed up already - they are already writers who have been through everything are another piece of me.

A friend has a word template that has things set up that allows us to type into word so we don't have to change a thing once we dump into the Main site's uh...template. Damn I sound redundant. I am throwing everything into this, this year. I always keep saying I'm going to do it, but this year I committed. ::HeadDesk::

How many of you did I tell you that I have a writing folder of original ideas (forget the fanfic of circular ideas - yeah, the state of my mind most of the time, which I plan on shedding) - since my freshman year of high school?

I want you to post your random fragments, your free writes, whatever comes to mind here. All right. If I see something that seems worth exploring, I will pop up and say, 'HEY!' - what is this! I hope you guys will do the same thing for me.

Remember, 50,000 words can be a compilation of original stories, as well. Hell, who knows, maybe it will be enough for those of you bucking to get into an MFA program, or not. Some care, some don't. I still want a bloody Doctorate, coming from that blasted Pacific Northwest compulsory philosophy where we need education when we don't know what else to do with ourselves, except teach and write.

TEASER: Which Way This Time Goes; or, What Will Happen This Time Around the Bend?

2009-04-05T12:30:31Z

She wrote a 'Book Blurb', ladies and gentlemen! ::Ha!::

Well...

...if I ever get around to writing the story, or story sets, brewing in my brain since last fall, the following serves as a 'book blurb' - hopefully intriguing readers while remaining suitably vague, especially since I have not committed to any real plot yet.

I'm never going to try to translate .pwi files to a desktop computer again - I spent way too much time on it already because I tried to send this out in a PM to about three people. Always so distracted: the reason why I never get anything important done....

Which Way This Time Goes

She must fulfill her destiny - but what personal costs will finally add up as one too many? At what point does her soul grow wings, fleeing her mind's increased numbness as a hole opens within her chest, chilling her compassion degree by degree?

Did Sarah ever consider that she was trying too darn hard? If she doesn't slow down and think before she completely loses her sanity, her humanity, and her capacity to love and trust; more than her soul may be sacrificed to the Fae Courts' cruelty or the Immortals' needless game.

Both worlds will tumble and fall; and with them, the Human world will cease as if it never existed at all.

"It's not fair!"

How can Sarah keep balance when her only previous experience consists of running through a magical Labyrinth so she may right a malicious and thoughtless wish-come-true?

Apparently, this is the exact qualification the job requires....

Peeking over the top of notebook screen. Awaiting Scary Verdict. Poised ready to duck the over-ripe fruit.

Hopefully I will write this, eventually. The story just won't be linear, in any sense of the word.

~Innogen

PS: I promise to reply to my messages very very soon, all right?

Veronica Mars: Rec and Fiction Fragment

2008-08-21T16:21:36Z

I wrote this as an off the cuff review to Can't Let You Go, written the the fabulous Linda06 'Can't Let You Go' is her only Veronica Mars fic posted at FF.net, so check it out and give some support for the 'what might have been' Season Four. The story is a Logan/Veronica ship, with the beginnings of an odd Mac/Dick vibe. It's worth checking out for some emotional immersion.

The Fragment:

Please keep in mind that while this may be related to the story I rec'd above, that doesn't mean that this is where it will ultimately end up. Spontaneous writing is actually not so rare for me - unfortunately, I tend to go off in tangents in response to other person's stories instead of whipping up my own.

Desire: I wanted to see a scene where Dick sees Mac interact with Mrs. Sinclair on a girlie-girl basis....

Result: Dick calls Mac's birth Mom 'Satan's Handmaiden's Mother' ....

Dick was thinking, on one of those strange subconscious levels, of course. He didn't know what was going on with him - he liked being single, but at the same time he could see what his friends have had for the last four years, and a part of him really wanted that. Only, he couldn't consciously admit it. He didn't have the motivation for a life, or even the girl to share it with. Well, there was Mac, but she might be dating some teacher, and as much time as they spent together - they sure as heck weren't a couple. But--

Mac - somehow in the back of his mind his subconscious viewed Mac as the Veronica to his Logan (without all the Rich Dude Kryptonite; of course, of course they never really talked about what happened that year the bus crashed and Cassidy jumping. He kept putting that conversation off - it would involve a of vodka, gin, Jack Daniels, and down the line.)

Speaking of Mac; what the hey? A waiter just seated the Mac-ster and Mrs. Sinclair at the corner outdoor café' He would never have seen them if he hadn't seen them standing up. So, when presented with a puzzle, Dick did the only thing he could do: spy - even though Veronica told him the 'subtle' wasn't one of his strongest characteristics.

Situation: Mac having a swanky lunch with Mrs. Sinclair. Mac is telling her how, four or five years ago, Veronica nearly had Madison's new Mercedes cubed, with a bow on top. Mrs. Sinclair is laughing hysterically at this and Dickie's jaw is about to drop - what was so cool about 'subtle' anyway?

"Mac! Dudette, telling in-crowd secrets to Satan's Hand-Maiden's mother --

"I beg your pardon?" But Dick didn't notice the amused smirk behind her protest, nor did he notice the waiter adding another chair, and drink to the table.

"Dick, it's not what--"

"I think you owe an explanation, I'm calling Veronica right this minute-"

This makes both women laugh even more.

"And interrupt my employer's stake-out?" Mrs. Sinclair coolly asked, eyebrow raise.

Mac turned to the older woman, whilst Dick stood gaping, and said, "Or she's probably getting laid. I have it on good authority that second trimester is a real bitch with those hormones."

Mrs. Sinclair started giggling into her drink.

"Chill, Dude! I'm here on legit, and semi-legit business," Mac grinned at Dick, who was still lost in his maze of confusion.

[Veronica has a case where she is proving Mr. Sinclair is stepping out - with Celeste Kane of all people ::snicker:: and Mr. Sinclair is being over-obvious about it, suggesting he wants a divorce. But, Mrs. Sinclair just plans to get the evidence and torment her husband, and perhaps Celeste Kane, who doesn't want to lose her position as ruling Queen of Kane Industries. On the flip side, Jake Kane (via Clarence Weidman) hired Veronica to prove she is having an affair. Yeah, it's all Pot-Kettle-Black, but there it is!]

"Sit down, Dickie!" Mrs. Sinclair ordered him to sit in the MOM voice, which still works on 22 year old surfer dudes. Then she handed him a Cosmo.

"Hey, that's a girlie drink"

"Deal, Dick," says Mac. 'BTW, which daughter is Satan's Hand-Maiden? The oh-so-obvious Madison, which I got the go-ahead to cube her new Jaguar, the shy studious younger sibling, entering High School and already learning Veronica's tricks, or...," Mac paused, winking at Mrs. Sinclair, me, the secret heiress to a lost fortune - wait, is that the plot of National Treasure 3?" Mrs. Sinclair shook her head.

"Huh?"

"Dick, the Sinclairs are my birth parents, but you can't tell anyone - at least not until my family moves to Ohio - which I am not! Not moving, it's obvious that I'm not Ohio...,"

"You were going to leave me alone with the PDA junkies and leave me for Ohio?" He whined. Too much information. Way to fast. Were Mac and Madison twin - ewww - maybe Madison was a clone? Wait, that doesn't make sense--

Mrs. Sinclair physically shut Dickie's jaw, "It's all too much for the poor man, I see that now. It's okay to blame Madison." To Dickie she said, "Sorry dear, but you were starting to leak."

"Boys," said Mac.

"Huh?"

"Drool, Dick. You're mouth was catching so many flies you were drooling - they must have been yummy," Mac giggled.

"Mac, when I recover my wits--"

"--you have wits?"

"I'm so going to get you. Prepare for the TickleTack!"

"Hey," protested Mac. "Not in front of my client, by proxy anyway, not to mention your possible secret future mother-in-law!'

Dick gulps.

"Wha?"

"Have another Cosmo, dear," The waiter refilled his empty martini glass.

Dick has no clue why the two women keep giggling. They were messing with his head, and doing a damn good job! Madison as Mac's evil twin? Right, like that's believable!

DUDE! He's so got to have a Halo competition with Logan to find out just what the heck is going on, because while Veronica Mars might know it all, and Mac may have Neptune wired, Dick's mind just changed residence to Pluto - so not a fun place to be - out in the cold without the 411!.

~end fragment

Fic: Why Rodney McKay's Cat Went To Eureka

2007-11-12T10:38:48Z

Sometime in 2006, cougarcat asked, "Eureka - Why do I think that Rodney McKay's cat lives there?

On 11/03/2007, I answered said question by writing the following in the comments. No beta, but I did some editing as I transferred the story here.

Why Rodney McKay's Cat Went to Eureka

Because once, Rodney McKay's cat was probably exposed to a little known meteor phenomena before finding Rodney to take care of - and Rodney needed a lot of taking caring of. Also, once becoming 'Rodney McKay's cat', she could not live with Rodney's former neighbor long - the energy around her felt like someone was rubbing her fur back-wards, or pulling the kink in her tail a twinge too much. Plus, the woman was not blond, nor intelligent.

So, one day, Rodney McKay's cat made her escape with the first intelligent scientist leaving Colorado Springs, who happened to get waylaid in Eureka. Of course, this scientist didn't ever realize he had a feline passenger, and that suited Rodney McKay's cat just fine.

Rodney's cat then made her escape into Eureka's wilds, sensing a very Rodney-like energy all around - so it made sense that when Rodney finally returned, he would come to Eureka. All she had to do was wait things out, and in the meantime, there were lots of super intelligent scientists that needed looking after. Oh, they got themselves in oh so much trouble, and without her, they would be in oh so much more trouble.

The citizens of Eureka took good care of Rodney McKay's cat, not batting an eye at never seeing her absentee human, as they understood the weird nature of scientists. So the highly intelligent Persian received a constant stream of nutritional food, electrolyte-filled water, and constant brushing that kept her kitty's mane sleek and shiny in the sun. Rodney McKay's cat was even recognized by Sheriff Carter's smart house, as Zoe encoded her name-tag information security systems to give her free reign, much annoying her father. But as to where Rodney McKay was - no one seemed really worried, because if his cat was in Eureka, then so was he. If Rodney McKay was in trouble, Rodney McKay's cat would let them know. Everyone was certain of this - somehow.

Then a time came when the citizens really started to fret about Rodney McKay. Rodney McKay's cat yowled, paced the streets, the countryside, and generally gave off the vibe that someone ate and killed her kittens. Sheriff Carter kept explaining to random scientist that their metaphors were wrong - it had to be killed and ate, and the scientists kept telling him that he was missing the point. Something must be wrong with Rodney!

Zoe finally suggested that her dad, Sheriff Carter, call the emergency number from the tag on Rodney McKay's cat collar, and Sheriff Carter resisted vehemently. Carter managed to never meet McKay, and sensed that not meeting McKay was perhaps the best course of action. But when the long-haired Persian started making mewing sounds all night long that sounded like a baby's crying, and when this lasted two weeks long not letting him get any sleep, he finally gave in.

Gravely, with his daughter watching, he picked up the phone and called the telephone number. His daughter calmingly stroked Rodney McKay's cat, who looked like she was nearly comatose from some kind super-cat herculean efforts.

And then the phone shocked Jack Carter, and for once it wasn't the smart house doing the literal zaps!

The shock he received was that the number didn't lead to Rodney McKay, or a family member, but to a loud-mouthed General sitting under a mountain in a Top Secret project just as Top Secret as the whole town of Eureka. The General had yelled out that his name had two 'L's', not one, and then asked what the hell he was doing with Rodney McKay's cat! Then he asked if he happened to know a Samantha Carter - which coincidentally, oddly enough, he did.

She was his cousin.

Then Sheriff Carter exchanged a wide eyed look with his daughter as they both heard a 'Sir!' and what sounded like a struggle for the phone on the other end, with the loud-mouthed General yelling sarcastically, 'Sam, why didn't you tell me you had a cousin living in Eureka?' Meanwhile, Rodney's cat looked at the phone with avid interest and began purring, quite loudly.

'Give me the phone, Sir! It wasn't your business!'

'Every thing's my business, Sam!'

Another slight scuffle was heard as words about 'bizarre coincidences', 'you're the one who wouldn't let him take her with him!' and 'inane balls of fluff' - at which Rodney's cat hissed - quite loudly.

Suddenly silence stilled on the other end, as if they heard the feline-in-question's response.

"Hello?, It's me, Sam. You still there?"

"Yeah, It's Jack, Sam.... Um, we have Rodney McKay's cat, here, and this is the emergency number on the tag?" Carter hadn't spoken to his cousin in quite a few months, and wasn't really sure how to discuss 'Top Secret' business with her.

"Yeah, I got that info from the General."

"Anyway, she's been acting up for a couple of weeks, and the town was worried. So we finally called this number. We thought...well, we thought we'd get Rodney, actually. He's supposed to be somewhere around here, we just don't quite know where he's set up shop."

Jack Carter heard a choking sound on the other end of the phone....'Um, how long has Rodney been in Eureka, Jack?'

'At least eight, maybe nine months. Thing is, none of us have met him yet. Security only has a basic portfolio put together when we identified his cat.'

'Whoa! How do you even know it's his cat?' Sam sounded suspicious over the phone now.

'Well, gee Sam, let me think!' Carter began sarcastically, as Rodney McKay's cat emitted a growl and yowled into the phone. 'Pet Identification Chip, and a collar listing the a Loud Mouthed General for an emergency contact? I think we have the right cat. Plus, the PIC has all of Rodney's bio-data, and that matches what we pulled from the Pentagon. Any more questions?'

'Jesus, Jack, Calm Down! I just needed to verify some data. She's with you now?'

'Yeah, and she was perfectly happy, I guess, until about two weeks ago, when she kicked up a hell of a fuss--'

'--that makes sense. There's been some huge trouble. Tell her not to worry. Rodney will be by to see her soon. All right? I've got to go now. Is she alright now?'

Sheriff Carter looked at Rodney McKay's cat, purring and snuggling into his daughter's more than willing arms.

'She's great, Sam. See you soon?'

'Count on it.'

The phone went dead. And, two weeks later, Sam showed up with Rodney McKay in tow, who spent three days, well, all Carter could say was, communing with his cat. Then they left again. And Rodney McKay's cat? Rodney McKay's cat stayed in Eureka, keeping an eye on things. She had to keep the scientist out of trouble, after all.

Sheriff Carter shook his head at the whole incident when it was over.

'How very strange,' he said. 'They never even told us her name!'

Rodney McKay's cat didn't mind, though. Eureka was the next best place living in than living with Rodney. Plus, Carter's daughter always paid her kitty's mane extra attention so it gleamed and shined in the sun. As for her name, it didn't matter. She knew her name. All the rest of them needed to know was that she was Rodney McKay's cat.

~finis

Hoped you liked.

So, if you have questions that might stimulate fic, ask them. I might write a story. You never know. I wouldn't mind some feedback. Real feedback. After no fic writing of any kind in years, any start is important. So, tear it apart. Do your best.

~Innogen