Topic: Red

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-08-24 23:34 EST
"Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of humankind pass by." - Oliver Goldsmith, Anglo-Irish author (1730??1774)

The world suddenly turned red. A loud, hot, fiery red. Red It swept over him taking out his feet. It shook him to the core. It drowned out the startled screams of beast and man alike. And it burned. It burned with a ravenous hunger consuming the cool air of twilight. Red It moved ominously. It screamed angrily. It threatened. It warned. It cried. It cut, deep and hard. It flowed freely, burning with each pulse...then stopped...suddenly silent. Red It warmed. It twinged. It shined, reaching through the darkness. It danced, and chased the shadows. It sang, clever and cunning. It stirred, needing to move, needing to act. It smiled, through crimson eyes. It beat, rich and alive, burning with each breath. Red It rose, angry and defiant. And it burned.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-09-01 23:00 EST
He spent a lifetime walking the fine line between dark and light. It was a keen edge requiring a delicate balancing act that more often than not led to more than a threat upon his person. And too often, led to personal loss for the barrister.

The afternoon breeze rustled the trees in the outpost's orchard. It cooled and stung his back and he turned his face into the breeze as he sank onto the stone bench. The barrister sought refuge, surrounded by the growth and life here as he waited for Gwyr to hitch up the team. The green would stave off the red that lingered at his periphery, if but for the moment.

"I could hav' those delivered like the others, Gov'nor." The barrister turned at the man's stealthy approach. "It'd be safer for the others, Gov'nor."

Lucien knew the man didn't mean it to cut. But his added caution cut deeply and bled red. Lucien sat up straight tucking the items into his jacket pocket. The barrister rose stiffly to his feet and nodded to his manservant.

"I think a ride into the city is order."

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-09-05 21:48 EST
"Now just remember what Huey Long said " that every man's a king " and I'm the king around here, and you don't forget it." - Stanley Kowalski, A Streetcar Named Desire

"I really don't think that's a good idea, Gov'nor." The man's cautious was spoken quietly and calmly, as everything Gwyr did, but the underlying concern was not lost to the barrister. Lucien just chose not to heed it. "This isn't over," he held up last month's edition of the Oracle folded to the article on Howe. "Not by any stretch of the imagination." "All the more reason for you tae stay here, Gov'nor. This is bigger than you. They can't find you..." "We leave this afternoon, Gwyr." It was a rare thing for Lucien to take such a tone and be so abrupt with the man. So rare, Gwyr could hardly remember the last time the barrister took such a tone with him, or with....But Lucien brooked no argument and the manservant nodded. Lucien sighed, chiding himself. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder and his tone took a much more conciliatory tone, although his resolve didn't waver. "This is my beat." That sounded hollow to the barrister as well. "I want them gone, Gwyr. Wiped from the face of Rhydin and whatever forsaken place they're from. I owe her that much. I owe them, at least that much." All Gwyr could do was nod.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-10-16 04:20 EST
"I want her found!" The barrister's voice boomed in the room, resonating as he closed his eyes and reached for the chair behind him. Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose trying to refocus his thoughts as he settled against the seat back. Gwyr didn't flinch as he bore the brunt of the barrister's pent up frustrations and he simply watched the man sink into the chair. He waited until silence fell over the room again before he spoke in his usual calm and quiet. "I'll have a team searching for the Baroness, Gov'nor. Was there anything else, Ser?" Lucien nodded, without opening his eyes. His tone was far more conciliatory. "Is there any other news, Gwyr?" "No, Gov'nor. There's been no word about the Lady Belial's whereabouts. She hasn't been seen and she hasn't been at the House in the longest time. There hasn't been any reports of the Captain getting any contracts from his ad in The Oracle. There hasn't been anything new about the Lady Sid."

"Any news from Dark Lake Manor?" The man shook his head. "No, Gov'nor. Nothing about Lady Alysia." The barrister ran a frustrated hand over his face and muttered incoherently under his breath. He drew a deep breath and sat up straight in the chair. He grabbed a few prepared documents from a stack nearby and slid them across the desk to his faithful manservant. "Have these filed right away. It's high time the Courthouse...," he paused a breath before he continued, "...and the townhouse are rebuilt."

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-10-27 01:19 EST
"Your memory is a monster; ....You think you have a memory; but it has you!" - John Irving

Debris crunched mutedly under the deliberate gait, stepping over shattered and charred pieces of wood, brick and glass. Cold blue gaze assessed the scattered, picked through, looted remains of what was once the barrister's three story townhouse. He skirted the perimeter of the property, walking along the edge of the building, until he found himself standing where the front of the building once was.

He closed his eyes, then stepped forward, fragments of memory scattering around, crunching beneath his feet. He pressed on, eyes closed, tracing the steps he'd taken so often without thought or care. He marked the length of the foyer, then the front hall. He reached out his right hand to touch the newel post that no longer existed. He moved on, alongside the stairs once stood, leading to the upper floors, past the parlor. Each step was marked by a dull crunch and a flood of memories rising in whispers from amid the debris.

He slowed his already careful and deliberate pace all the more, until he came to a stop...where the kitchen door once stood.

"Don't just stand there with your hands in your pockets like a lump, Viktor. Get yourself in here and make yourself useful!" Lucien opened his eyes to find Mrs. Clancy standing in the middle of the kitchen, flour on her apron, pans and pots on the fire and shaking a wooden spoon at him. "Land sakes, it's about time you got up."

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-11-03 15:41 EST
He stepped into the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Clancy. I was thinking..." "You're always thinking, Viktor!" the portly woman snapped, cutting him off with another wave of the wooden spoon she wielded. "You need to get your head out of the clouds and get your feet on the ground!" she barked. "Whole world's going by and you're thinking about it! Land sakes! Didn't your father teach you any better?" "You bet he did!" she interjected before the barrister even had a chance to reply. "Thinking. Always thinking. Well, a whole lot of good thinking's done you. Sitting around thinking things out while things happen all around you! It's a wonder you get anything done!" Lucien grimaced despite himself. Mrs. Clancy bellied up to the barrister and looked him hard in the eyes. Her tone was uncharacteristically soft. "Nothing wrong with a man thinking things out before acting. But he needs to take action, Viktor. What good is all your thinking if nothing comes of it?"

She spun him around before he could get a word in edgewise. "Now get your head out of the clouds and start doing, Viktor." And she gave him one good shove out the kitchen door. He heard the door swing once behind him.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-11-12 22:18 EST
The barrister didn't need to turn around to know the kitchen wasn't intact behind him. Or that Mrs. Clancy wasn't shuffling around, muttering and grousing while pots and pans bubbled and boiled over the fire. He knew he was standing in the burnt out, gutted out remains of what was once his home. He looked up at the open blue sky. The air was starting to hold a bitter chill, hinting of winter's arrival. There was a lot that needed to be done before the first snow would start to fall. "This is madness," he muttered to himself. Glass, wood, plaster crunched and snapped beneath his feet as he moved again. Lucien came to stop and stood in the middle of what used to be the front hall and he let out a deep breath. He turned to his left and looked out over what used to be his office. He slowly let out another deep breath and proceeded into what remained of the room. The skeletal frame of what was once the fireplace and chimney stood at one end. No walls, no windows, no doors stood. All around was charred remains of furniture and papers. The barrister stepped to where his desk had been. Something caught his footing and there amid the debris, a small piece of stone stuck out. He reached down to pick up the black piece of marble. It was part of a ship's hull from the model he had on his desk. He slipped the piece of marble into his pocket.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-11-18 12:45 EST
A long breath was released as the barrister stood amid the remains of house and home. Fingers moved over the cool surface of the stone in he carried in his pocket, cool gaze raking over the debris.

Measured steps led him to where a wall had once stood. A wall covered with books, old and new. But this wall housed more than shelves of books. And perhaps it survived the blast. "Ser?" The voice called louder. "Ser" Are ya Ser Mallorek?" The call drew the barrister from his reverie and Lucien turned around to find a lanky man standing on the grounds behind him. "Lucien..." the man paused to look at the sheet on his board, then turned his attention back on the barrister. "Lucien Mallorek?" the man queried again of the barrister. "Yes, I am the one you seek. You are, Sir?" "Otto. Otto Pembroke. Ser." The man took a wide berth around some of the strewn debris and approached the barrister. "I'm here about some..." Otto cast an assessing glance around the strewn devastation then checked the notes on the sheet. "Some repairs to a house?"

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-11-20 03:38 EST
"Ah yes. Mr. Pembroke. My associate told me to expect you." Lucien moved around to meet the man who was looking over the gutted remains of the townhouse. "I want the work to get started straight away. You were told that I wanted to work to start right away, yes?" The man glanced to his clipboard and checked the notes written on the sheet. Otto looked back up at the barrister. "Ser, er...," Lucien interjected with a nod to the man's clipboard. "It should also mention the Courthouse. I want the work on the Courthouse started right away." "But, Ser..." The barrister shook his head and interrupted the man once more. "Time is of the utmost important. Well, quality and time," Lucien quickly amended. "I was told you were the best, and I don't expect to be disappointed." "But, Ser," Otto waved his clipboard around over the debris they were standing amid. "This is a lot of work. This is more than a repair," the man continued tapping a crooked finger against the clipboard. "And there isn't anything left of the Courthouse," Otto added with a final nod. "Time is of the essence, my good man." The barrister's tone, although outwardly cordial, brooked no argument. "I will expect to see you and your crew of men starting first thing in the morning."

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-11-27 22:55 EST
There is no justice in law. - Remark made by a law professor to first year law students.

The briefcase was tossed haphazardly on the table, sending papers flying off the desk and raining down around an already cluttered room. He walked over to the small bar, ripping the already loosed tie off and decanted a good measure of scotch into a waiting glass. He sank into an arm chair and cast a cool gaze over his makeshift office in his apartment. What's troubling you? He took a deep breath then a healthy swallow of the scotch. I've got a lot on my mind, Alysia. Is there anything I can do to help, Lucien" Know a good lawyer" Or a good and fast builder" Lucien surrendered the glass and clenched his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Months since the explosion that took his home, a good woman and friend, and wounded many friends, and still the toll was growing. Still the wounds lingered.

Several moments passed before the barrister was able to stave off the dark cloud that lingered at the edges of his mind and regain focus of his thoughts. He let out a deep breath and set his head against the back of the arm chair.

Can't imagine why -you- would be looking for a lawyer. I need a good laywer, because I think I'm becoming ineffective.

Months and nothing had come from any of his motions against the DCH. In fact, the multidimensional firm seemed to be getting a firmer hold of things. And the Bloods, the Captain, the Baroness, Lady Mercer and others remained in their direct line of fire.

There was the brick wall he ran into at the Garrison regarding the Judge's bail. Or lack thereof. Something that used to be an effortless exercise was an enormous hurdle beyond even first efforts. Every where he turned, all Lucien seemed to be faced with was a road block. He'd been, possibly still was, a marked man. So he wored the mark of Cain.

He reached for the glass for another drink.

Lucien had heard of the provincial problems and rumblings the Priestess was dealing with in Rhilshen. Ms. Frost was dealing with a rebellious province. A dragon (who believed he went around sniffing bottles) offered her services to Alysia, who mentioned the possibility of war in the western...

Thoughts swirled and muddied, and the room seemed to waver.

The drink was thrown blindly against the far wall, sending glass and scotch spraying over the wall and room.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2006-11-30 03:11 EST
The cases you take. . . I wonder, do you end up emotionally invested in them' Having a personal interest can make you fight harder, but . . . I think sometimes it makes it more difficult to evaluate yourself clearly. Particularly if there's a serious consequence from failure.

He ran his hand over his face and pulled it over his beard. Alysia's apt observation had afforded him a moment of clarity that stunned him. The cases were personal. There was no doubt of that. The barrister had always taken a personal interest in each case. However, had he gone too far? Lucien drew a deep breath and looked over the uncharacteristic clutter that consumed the room. It seemed to reflect his own cluttered thoughts and emotions. Restless and tired.

Angry and happy.

Defiant and resigned.

Cautious and hopeful.

Distant and close.

It was a struggle to keep himself in control. To keep his easy smile intact, when he feared he was losing his mind, losing himself.

Have faith in yourself, Lucky.

She anchored him and he needed it desperately. But the storm that was brewing was growing larger, greater within than without. And he feared losing her in the storm of red.