Topic: Flights of Fancy

Bridgette Sato

Date: 2012-06-19 13:27 EST
The dreams came with more frequency now; her subconscious making up for lost time? She hadn?t experienced dreams for decades and now she couldn?t close her eyes without the flood of images. It had make her leery of sleeping, pushing herself until she fell down into bed unable to drag herself another step, sometimes she did not even make it to her bed.

They all started the same way, with her standing at the edge of the whirlpool that lived inside her mind. It had become a static fixture there, the repository for all that she used to be, perhaps it would suck up the person she was now leaving her future self in a constant state of forgetting her past. There had been many nights that she sat and contemplated the depths, standing at the edge of the event, testing some resolve. There were warning signs that dug painfully into her subconscious that those memories were best left to the darkness of the tidepool, best left to that other person she used to be but was not now.

Another new thing were the wings. Huge and dark grey things that spread up from her back, from where -- when she was awake -- the twin scars lived, and flared outward. They were soft, and lovely but why they kept showing up in her dreams? It was that man, Vegas, he had put that thought in her head and as she had no memory of what really happened her brain must have adopted the lie.
The tips of the feathers were sheathed in some type of metal, much like the feathers on Vegas?s wings. They were deadly sharp but she seemed to be able to maneuver them without slicing herself or her surroundings up into little pieces. She hadn?t tested them for flight, despite being tempted, that would make them too real, to desirable and she couldn?t afford the luxury of feeding that delusion.

The dream shifted, it did this every night, every time she shut her eyes. She was at the whirlpool and then she wasn?t. Tonight was somewhere new, unfamiliar and yet tugging at some memory that made it feel like deja?vu. She hated everything about these dreams: hated the wings, hated these teasing memories, hated what always came next.

?Come back to us, J?ette. You will be forgiven.? The voices sang in sweet harmonies, soothing and seductive.

The dreams had been taking her to places that all felt like a variation on a theme. Some small-ish town with strange creatures that fell back in terror at her passing. No matter the alien eyes that focused on her they all filled with that same soul-sucking horror that made her feel as black-hearted a monster as had ever walked the worlds.

?I am not that person.? She would try to explain, knowing it was a dream and knowing it would do no good. ?I am not whomever it is you fear.? They never listened, never stayed long enough for her to get through to any of them.

Tonight was different, the place she found herself filled the landscape with tall, elegant spires that reached up to a golden sky, piercing the star-starved space above. She was on a platform on one of the smaller spires but glancing downward proved that the ground was nowhere to be seen below her, a fog reached up from the depths to obscure the view but that was a good mile down. It wasn?t that she feared heights, she didn?t, but the emptiness surrounding her perch gave her pause. She backed away from the edge and into the main body of the spire, turning as she did so she didn?t walk into anything, or anyone.

Reaching out to touch the walls she jerked back when the sensation of sentience permeated her senses. The walls were warm, the slick marble appearance just a facade to lull the unsuspecting into thinking it made of stone. No, there was thought behind that touch, a mind so vast and old that it did not care that creatures made their home in its flesh.

?Come back to us, J?ette. You have not been forgotten.? The floor seemed to give with each step she took, cushioning her actions so that she walked silently. Silence followed the chorus, thick and oppressive in this foreign place.

A shadow crossed her peripheral vision and she turned on a heel, the wings -- her wings -- spread and then arced around her body protectively like armor. She was painfully aware that she had no weapons, none but the blades on those wings. There was no conscious thought associated with the appendages however and therefore she could not count on them to do what she wanted. The fact they seemed to act on their own caused a thread of fear to push through her thoughts, demanding attention.

?Who is there? Why are you doing this? I am a bounty hunter, if I?ve done something to offend you then come out and say it. We can settle it like adults.? She demanded in the direction she thought she saw the shadow flee.

For a moment she saw the creature come into view, the scream that started in the dream continued even after she jerked herself free from sleep. Her silk pajamas were clinging to her body and her hair was damp with sweat, her jaw snapped shut so violently that she thought she might have chipped a tooth. Thankfully it was a night she was on her own, she didn?t want to have to explain to anyone, not even herself. Rolling out of bed she headed to the shower, it would be awhile before she allowed her eyes to close again... as long as she could manage.

She had a date to go flying with Sergei tonight, perhaps she could use him to keep the dreams at bay. Thinking about him chased away some of the images, a smile formed as she washed away the nightmares with the warm water. He was different from the other men she chased, she was looking forward to spending time with him, hopefully he was ready for her. So very few people were ever really ready for Jet, ah well, it would be an adventure at the least.

Vegas

Date: 2012-06-27 18:39 EST
When your life spread across the years, the decades, the millennia, time meant little. Patience was something that, those with shorter lives, believed they could achieve. Patience was knowing that in the fullness of time all would be accomplished and the hurrying of events was unnecessary and not a productive use of energy.

There were things to do, duties to discharge and he did them to the best of his ability. The Planes were experiencing a rise in unruly behavior, too many people thinking that they could get away with actions that would destabilize the very fabric of their universe without drawing the attention of the Brigade.

Qwen had assigned him to a heavy load of clean-up after the first teams went in to calm the populace or eliminated them. He enjoyed his job, it was his purpose and written into his bone, blood and sinew. If he had some bitterness that his life was driven by a purpose given to him by another he did not show it in how he executed those duties.

He was not Michael, not likely to defect and be the source of the growing chaos on the Planes, as he had to be given the scale of what was going on. There was a freedom in knowing your place in the universe. That did not mean he relinquished all other goals or dreams, just that he chose those that would not interfere with his prime directives. Keeping to smaller goals than that of the First of the Brigade meant that he was left to his own devices to do as he pleased in his free time.

What pleased him recently was the torment of one that had been expelled from the Brigade, one of only two in its long history, J?ette. The details were not widely known, the Creator and the first three of the Brigade were the ones that handed down the sentence of banishment. He had been there that day when they butchered who she was, tearing away her memories and shearing off those lovely dark grey wings. The blade used was special, it was Qwen?s longsword and a part of the woman and her technomancy, and would ensure that the scars would never fully heal.

Coming across her in that town had been happenstance but a happy one for him. After the initial few clashes, which had been brutally physical, he went back to what he did best, working in the dreamscape. Her defenses were woefully pathetic, she could not remember she had them and so they were easy to sweep aside and then he could shape her dreams as he wished.

Repetitive dreams worked best to drive a person to a desired goal. So every night he threw her to the same spots, over and over, repeating the same words... and then gradually adding in elements of the Planes. These were things that used to be in her mind, that now lived in a great, dark whirlpool at the center of her consciousness. He had to admit, that Qwendolen had done a brilliant job of destroying the memories, but allowing for a time in the future that they might be restored.

When she closed her eyes he could feel it, could see her no matter where she tried to hide. Those times were now spaced further apart, meaning she was forcing herself to remain awake. That was good, it meant that it was working and that soon she would drive herself to exhaustion and he could push her to greater lengths with less effort. Hobbies were important when you lived as long as a member of the Brigade... and J?ette was shaping up to be quite an amusing pastime.

Bridgette Sato

Date: 2012-06-29 12:06 EST
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

The flight with Sergei had been thrilling, the type of thrill that started deep in your bones and radiated out to miles beyond your body. It had chased away the cobwebs caused by sleep deprivation and shifted her mood back to something she recognized. That longing for pain and pleasure, a need to live this one moment as though it was the only one that mattered.

His quick answer to her question ?so we going to my place or yours when we land? in the positive with her place had been a surprise. A nice one, to be sure, despite her slight misgivings at the fact he seemed very young. She had met him at the bar, he had been drinking, bore markings of a tribe and carried himself -- at most times -- as an adult. Her bedroom was a wide open space, large bay windows and a skylight that provided a view to the skies above. Sergei left before the sun was close to touching the summer sky, and that was good, she had no intention of falling asleep with him there. Her dreams waited and her reaction to them had grown violent over the past few days.

Jinx and Brooklyn were nowhere to be found and that was not helping her mood, it was helping to push her toward Sergei, and that had been going nicely. They had a second date already and he still didn?t seem to be scared... she wasn?t sure if that was good or not, it might indicate he wasn?t all there. Either way she would take advantage of his company as long as he was willing to waste it.

The call to wander had been rising steadily in her blood for the past few days. If her history was anything to go by she had damn near settled in Rhy?din and it was producing a sensation that she couldn?t say she enjoyed. This place was closer to allowing her to feel normal than New York, that was for sure. Hell, in this place she was far closer to their normal than most of the inhabitants and that could not be said for many other places. She thought about where she might go, and if she wanted company. Part of her wanted the comfort that the men in her life would bring but she was not so selfish as to bring them with. There was no profit in wandering the worlds with her, no happy endings that she could see.

There were a few places that she had visited for other bounties, and a even a few that would welcome her back. Perhaps not warmly, but welcome her they would if she arrived without notice. Goldarra was one of those places and she decided that would be a place to go. The world was inhabited by many different species, all war-like and competitive. The Pits of Goldarra were famous for the fighting that went on there. Many different sports called the place home but it was the native sport that drew the most spectators. Large mech machines that could only be piloted by an elite few on the planet.

As children they were tested, brought to the pits and placed in one of the huge, hulking machines. For some children the monstrosities would come to life and respond to the childs whims -- sometimes to the dismay of the adults present. For centuries this was a ritual, for centuries it had been only boy children that were graced with the ability to pilot the machines, nearly all from the Royal bloodline.

Jet had shattered some beliefs when she visited, some ten years ago, in search for a bounty that was sly and slippery. She hadn?t meant to activate anything when she was sneaking through the pits that contained the sleeping mechs. The moment her hand brushed across one of the massive chest plates, as she was trying to sneak around it, the thing had moved and nearly given her a heart attack.

Seeing as this caused an army of men to appear and start toward her angrily she did what she normally did in such situations... she climbed into the mech and wrecked the place. When the smoke clearly... literally, they had come to an arrangement. She was now hailed as a miracle, not just an alien that could use the mechs but a female, it was an unheard of event and celebrated.

She?d fought in the pits for a full season, going 4-0-2 and had loved it, but settling down in a place wasn?t her style and so she moved on. A guard detail was provided for her when she was on planet and most of the rumors of an illicit affair between herself and the Emperor?s son, Trevorius, had died down.

There was one more bounty that she wanted to collect before she went and she managed that one with little fuss or problem. Once found the bounty seemed disinterested in fighting or fleeing, perhaps they had been running long enough. Making the decision to leave the next morning she had the evening to waste... she found herself paging Sergei. ?Peach Button, my place, ten minutes ago.?

Bridgette Sato

Date: 2012-07-12 09:12 EST
The day with Sergei had gone better than expected. Although to be fair she was continually amazed that he wanted to be in her company, she wasn?t exactly the all-Rhydian girl, now was she? Her work had been going well, better than expected as bounty after bounty was bagged without incident. The balance of things told her that there had to be something big, and bad on its way and yet the days slipped by and nothing horrible happened.

Brooklyn was nowhere to be seen and that had begun to create worry, it wasn?t like him not to have any communication with her, even if it was something rude or blunt there was always a reply. There was the loose end of Vegas, something she?d been putting off, if she found out that the man had anything to do with Brooklyn being M.I.A. she?d focus all her energy into hunting him down and doing it right this time.

She had a call in with Arlin for new toys, and she?d given him a sample of the rope that seemed to have some effect on Vegas. Hopefully the man had turned that into bullet form so she could collect on that bounty, they hadn?t specified alive or dead, she?d bring him in dead if she had her way.

The dreams, the nightmares, were still there but she had been doing a fair job at ignoring them or avoiding them by avoiding sleep. It was probably not the best state to be in, exhausted, to meet with Trevorius but she owed him a visit for sneaking into where he kept Excalibur, the royal mech, to allow Sergei to see it.

Currently she was perched on the balcony of his room, he would sense her there and come eventually, he always did. It did not take him long, the suns had hardly moved in the sky when he walked out onto the balcony. He timed it well, the suns were kissing the horizon and beautiful rays of red and gold streamed in just the right way to catch his form. She was sure he knew this and had used the effect to impress others, not that he needed cheap tricks to look impressive.

He was royalty, and he exuded a confidence that bordered on arrogance but shied away from it enough to just make him charming. The fairy tales were born from men like him, but always from a distance, a view from the street below rather than standing before him. Those fairy tales always paled in comparison to the man himself. It had annoyed Jet at times at how very perfect he seemed at all times. It was one of the many reasons they didn?t work beyond just friends, she was not perfect and never felt like she was living up to his standards, not that he ever said he had placed those on her, he wouldn?t.

The outfit he wore spoke of combat training, something he did as often as he could manage, he believed a ruler should be fit in mind and body. Loose black pants, an open black vest embroidered with golden thread was all he wore, showing off his very fit physique nicely. His hair was dark as midnight on a world that has no moons, and his eyes were bright gold, a hawks stare coming from a face of angles and sharp relief. If ever a statue was given life this man would fit the bill.

The silence between them stretched, neither willing to break it yet or perhaps just enjoying the sight. Finally he spoke, his voice a smooth, deep rumble. ?You are looking as lovely as ever. You have not changed at all in the ? five years since you ran from me?? The question was for the amount of time, not the latter part on which he seemed certain.

?Trevorius.? Even speaking his name seemed to cause her some pain, a pain she had thought buried and dead. There were never any cute nicknames for him, they never fit. Brooklyn was Sugar Plum in her mind... Almond Creampuff, Gumdrop Petal, Peach Button, they all fit. None would fit on Tervorius, she never even shortened the name. ?I did not run, I walked. I won?t be trite and say it was for the best, but it is what happened.? You couldn?t lie to others when you couldn?t force that lie upon yourself. Besides she knew she was in the wrong on that one and could own such things as they came along.

The distance between them seemed to vanish magically, he was across the way and then he was in front of her, his warmth close enough to feel. ?You went to visit Excalibur, he told me.? There wasn?t an accusation of wrongdoing, just a hint of disappointment in his tone. ?You miss him more than me? And you brought another man? You wish to cause me pain?? He spoke softly, a hand rising to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her jaw line.

The leaning into that hand was an unconscious action, it had always felt so nice and tonight was no exception. ?He was supposed to keep that secret, I came tonight to tell you personally.? Which was true, he had no reason to doubt her word she had always been honest, to the point of brutality in the past. ?I thought to find you happily wed to a half dozen girls, Trevorius. Your concubine quarters are empty.? She had stopped there first, considering waiting for him there but there was something too... personal about that room. It was almost as if the decorator had her tastes in mind when choosing the layout and the furniture.

?You know why that is Bridgette. You have always known and that is why you ran, is it not?? With each word he leaned a fraction closer until his lips were as good as brushing her own. His golden eyes were wide and focused on her face, searching for something he?d had yet to find.

?That sounds likely. But I am here now. Come morning I won?t be, but you knew that already when you decided to meet me here. Question is what will you do with the time you?ve been given?? She didn?t move, couldn?t without kissing him, and she would not initiate that with him. She?d hurt him, she knew that and wouldn?t do it again. Despite her treatment of the man she was fond of him, as fond as she could manage, he was in the same category as Brooklyn in her affections. And Sergei? No, he was not there yet but there was that potential, he was a fun companion to be sure.

Trevorius opted not to respond verbally, his answer a deep, passionate kiss as his arms looped around her waist to pull her tight against his body. It was a good an answer as she?d ever gotten, and true to her word she was gone by morning.

Bridgette Sato

Date: 2012-07-19 13:27 EST
She was staring at a bouquet of beautiful purple blossoms that had been delivered to her home that morning. The card that accompanied it was being flipped between the fingers of her right hand, the words ?Thinking about you. - Sergei? spinning into and out of view. Her other hand was resting on one of her handguns that was placed nearby on the table.

?Still doesn?t mean you?ve gotten it wrong. I left him stuff.? And she had, she liked gifting small things to the people she liked. It was a thank you and an apology all in one for them suffering through her company.

Her body was relaxed, sprawled carelessly on the chair and dressed for the day in jeans and a simple cotton shirt and combat boots. The shoulder holster was on but did not have guns in it yet and to anyone that didn?t know her very well she seemed too distracted to notice anything in her environment beyond the bouquet. Perhaps, if she was in a mood to be fair, she would have acknowledged that there was only two types of people that knew her that well. First included a single person, Brooklyn, whom had been there with her through several of her hunts and knew her capabilities, all those things she hid from the public when she was just out and about. The second included the beings she had captured, having learned how deceptive this pose could be when she went from something similar to aggressively active in a blink of the eye.

That second category was about to grow by two. She was aware of the men the moment they had broken into her back room and started trying to sneak up on her They were about to learn the hard way that looks could be deceiving. Mid flip of the card it was dropped and her body was in motion. Twisting around and dropping to a knee, the chair now used as a distraction. The gun was nestled neatly in her left hand, her finger squeezing the trigger, a smooth action so that the shot was clean and true. A fraction of a second later, after adjusting the angle, another bullet was released. So many people panicked and jerked the trigger, this just meant a lot of noise and no actual success in striking a target.

How she knew where the men were when she turned to shoot was something she thought of as finely honed instinct. The changes that recovering memories had brought informed her that it was more than that. Some advanced technology that was embedded in her body had been busy quietly monitoring the mens? progress and providing her with the coordinates within the confines of her home to pinpoint the shot without looking.

The first man would never need the information that a lazing Jet was not a helpless one as he slid to the ground with a bullet wound oozing blood down his forehead and into glazed eyes. The other man had taken a bullet to his right shoulder, causing his gun to fall from useless fingers. A shimmer in the air told her that they had been employing a form of cloaking technology and that probably accounted for some of the shock written on the mans face, pain did that too so it was likely a mix.

Rising from the kneeling position and stalking toward the second man, the gun?s muzzle dipped and another shot was fired. It hit just above his left knee and he dropped to the floor, and the panic started. By the time he recovered his wits enough to speak she was holding the warm muzzle of the gun to his forehead and looking down at him with a disapproving glare. ?Just two? Who ever you work for sent you here to die.? Her tone was cold and calm. ?Tell me who and I might consider ruining his day by letting you live. Talk fast, that leg wound will be the death of you if you hesitate.? That was true, it was bleeding fiercely and would need tending sooner rather than later.

?Don?t! Don?t kill me. I?ll tell you whatever you want to know.? His words wore a thick accent, that same lilting tone that her own words fell prey to if she was not paying attention.

?Tell me who sent you.? Repeating the words for him as he was obviously not in a coherent state and did not register the words the first time around.

?It was Mister M-? The name was cut off as foam exploded from the mans mouth. It frothed red and spilled from lips gaping like a fish out of water even as he toppled to the floor to convulse and then go still.

Spitting out a few choice words in her native tongue before holstering the gun and moving to sink back down into the chair. One hand reached out and idly picked up the card from Sergei, setting it spinning through her fingers again.

?Hopefully you aren?t thinking of me like this.? Said in a soft tone as she considered her options. Sergei was out of town and that meant she didn?t have to worry about him knocking, but it didn?t stop her from worrying about what he?d think if he saw her like this. There was no regret in her expression, could not be without a great deal of acting for she felt none of it. They broke in, intent on causing her harm, and paid for it.

Digging her phone out she quickly sent a text to Violetta, the woman was surprisingly resourceful about practical matters like how to dispose of bodies from one's apartment in a hurry. Sending a quick message to Sergei as well to thank him for the flowers. Her day had not gone as planned but that was the beauty of living life moment by moment, things like this could be handled and absorbed without panic. It said something of her character that the thought of how Sergei would react caused her more anxiety than the killing itself, but she was in no mood for self-reflection.

Bridgette Sato

Date: 2012-08-02 13:25 EST
There was a long list of things at which Jet excelled, none of which would be classified as social skills. On the whole she thought that a good thing, it meant that only those nearly as broken as she felt attempted to get close, all others shied away from the woman they could not come close to understanding.

Today, as she was practicing her archery, she could not keep thoughts of Sergei out. Nocking another arrow she attempted to focus on the target. There were several schools of thought on how to focus your mind on the task at hand when firing a weapon; sink all thoughts into the void, into a flame, into the point you are aiming, visualize the desired outcome, aim with your heart not your hand, etc. etc.

What she did was something different that that and difficult for her to explain to others. It had been difficult anyway, as memories trickled in the hows of things were becoming less magic, more technology based and easier to explain to others, if she choose to disclose such things. On the whole she was good with the response to any questions about her inhuman accuracy being ?I?m just that good.? What she was really doing was sending out microscopic machines that fed her data on the distance, vectors, air conditions and calculating that in some part of her brain automatically that then translated to how she aimed and shot.

The arrow was loosed and sank into the dead center of the target. Oh sure, she could hit the mark on this, but with Sergei? She thought he was enjoying spending time with her and then he had sent her the text of wanting to talk. To be fair she hadn?t thought much of it until Vio informed her that was code for ?we need to stop seeing each other?.

Another three arrows were put to the bow and loosed in as few seconds and one of the men in the booth next to her leaned forward to see who it was that just managed to split three arrows in such a shotgun fashion and found the expression on Jets face so intimidating that he nearly fell over in his haste ducking back out of her line of sight.

Cursing softly under her breath she grabbed her quiver and slung the bow over a shoulder before stalking off. She was supposed to meet Sergei in the park in just an hour and she wanted to clean up before she went there.

It was quick work, cleaning up, putting together a picnic basket, complete with some food for Muffin, her pet bear. Jogging over to the spot she wanted to have the ?talk? and sending Muffin to the road, a purple flower tucked behind his ear. There was a flittering thought about whether she warned Sergei that she had a pet bear... ah well, it wasn?t like they were going to be hanging out for much longer. If she realized the bitter edge to that thought then it wasn?t something she acknowledged.

He came up in that beater truck he owned, Muffin pouring out of the passenger side and trudging off to stand near to Jet. She was laying back on the grass, her hands cupped behind her head as she stared up at the clear blue sky, hardly a cloud to be seen and that did not suit her mood. "Good boy, come and get a treat." A slight pause and one of her small, wicked grins before adding. "You can come too Muffin."

"Ba-dum-dum-ting," Sergei mimicked a percussive sting as he plopped onto the ground beside her. "Limeade? It's good. Rot-your-teeth and pucker-your-lips at the same time good." Said as he fiddled with the plastic cups.

"Questo ? il punto che dici cos? a lungo e grazie per tutto il pesce? Ho capito, io non sono facile da affrontare a lungo." She fell into her native tongue without thought and her tone was edged with a sorrow that she wanted to kick herself for when she heard it coming from her lips. She told herself she wasn't going to do that.

Sergei looked at her like she was having a stroke and then seeing the confusion on his face she started to stammer out an apology just as he was stammering out a statement. ?Look, I..." He abandoned the limeade in order to rub the back of his neck. "I know, when we started this, it was well, we had that little chat recently, and you said we're friends, I know, but..." More neck-scratching before he he looked over at her. "Jet, I'm pretty crazy about you. And I like to think I'm pretty brave, but I'm pretty scared that you'll hear this and run, but I feel the way I feel about you, and it needs to be said." There was another look up at the sky, around, and back at her, composing himself, and drawing from his well of courage again. "You ever think about taking this to the next level? Making it just us? You and me? Boyfriend, girlfriend...?"

Now it was her turn to look at him like he was having a stroke. This was not even close to what she had prepared herself for and it took her a very long moment to identify what the emotions were that welled up inside her. The predominant one was fear and followed quickly on its heels was shock. "Cosa? Non sei qui per ... a ... ragazza?" Then a sharp shake of her head as she realizes she did it again. "What? I mean, Vio told me that 'want to talk' is code for you don't like me anymore." She sounded more confused than he would have ever heard from her before. This was unfamiliar ground and she wasn't sure where to step so she wouldn't sink.

"What? No, I said it was a good thing." There was a breathless laugh, his hand came to rest on her shoulder. "I mean... at least, I hope it's a good thing. Look, if you don't want to, we don't have to, but... I do care about you a lot, Jet. And I think we're great together."

There was a lot of questions that followed, and parameters defined and clarified before gave him one final chance to redact his question. ?Are you sure? I mean, I am not exactly what is coined a ... good catch? I am rash, odd, place myself in danger without thought, take in stray bears..." His retort was a good one. ?You're mysterious, you're brave, you're a lot of fun, and you take in strays," which in Sergei's mind said an awful lot about her. "You're exciting. Electrifying. And I can't help but light up when you do."

There was a pause as she thought that was followed by a ?yes, then.? After Sergei got over his surprise at that, they sealed the deal by sending Muffin off to find his dinner as she tested to see if Sergei was tasting peachy today... he hadn't ever yet but the testing was enough fun that Jet didn't mind.

Bridgette Sato

Date: 2012-08-17 14:54 EST
Much had been done this week. More work than she?d done in years, her bank account would be thanking her but it wasn?t for the money that she drove herself so hard. It was to keep her mind off the memories that kept seeping in every time she had a moment to think, waiting just like the dreams that she now believed would never leave her alone.

The relationship she found herself in with Sergei was not helping matters. Before she could just find someone and keep herself occupied doing physical things but he was busy and she had an awful lot of excess energy and desire to spare and it burned in her gut until she felt nauseous. The desire to hunt Brooklyn down was one that grew along side that need, but she liked Sergei in a way she couldn?t ever remember liking someone before and she didn?t want to mess things up. Hunting Brooklyn down would definitely mess things up.

She?d done a job before going to visit Violetta and she?d gotten herself hurt. It happened, she typically just ignored injuries as they healed quickly. Lunch had been planned with Vio and she turned up at her friends house bloodied, something that her friend did not appreciate. ?Mio dia! Jet can you not just have a normal day like everyone else? Put your arm in the sink I will bring things to clean the wound.?

Jet did as commanded, putting her bleeding arm into the sink and turning the water on to wash away the blood and examine the wound. It wasn?t bad, it would heal in a day, maybe two, a knife wound taken as she used her arm as a shield. The blade had been a fancy one, not made by human hands, if she was any judge, it was now a part of her private collection.

By the time Vio came out with the first-aid kit she found Jet with the knife in hand cutting the wound deeper with a terrifyingly calm expression on her face. ?Jet! What the hell are you doing??

?It?s written on my bones.? The words were flat, just stating a fact as she used the knife to expose a portion of the radial bone. Jet didn?t look up at Vio, even when she heard the woman gag and then shout something at her, her attention was fixed on what she saw there. Runes dug deep into the bone, rivers of blood filled the gouges but they were clearly a message.

It wasn?t until she felt Vio?s hand wrap around her own and yank violently that she looked at the woman. Vio?s eyes were wide with concern and fear, she?d seen Jet go a bit off kilter before and it hadn?t been pretty. The fear grew as Vio realized that Jet?s eyes were shot through with a silvery substance that danced and writhed through the green that usually filled the space. ?Jet, listen to me, step back from whatever madness you are lurching toward. You are who you are and nothing will change that, not if you do not let it.? It was a plea, desperate for her friend to recognize that she was acting less than sane.

?How can you change something writ upon your bones?? There was still no emotion in her tone but there was something infinitely sad in her gaze, still flooding with that slippery silver substance.

?What does it matter what is on your bones? It is what is in your heart that matters, Jet. It has always been what is in your heart. That is what determines if you are humane or not.? She was careful not to say human, she had already puzzled out that Jet was not human. Whether it was she was no-longer human, or had never been was not something Vio knew. Despite her friends constant reminders, via her actions, that she was not bound by the same value system she had values that were admirable, if not always fathomable. The bounties she chose and how she handled herself around others always spoke to Vio as someone she was proud to call caro amico.

?You didn?t say human.? It was just like Jet to pick that out of everything Vio had said, and for the first time since she arrived she sounded wounded, struck through her soul by the lack of that word.

?Being human is not all its cracked up to be, and in this town it is nothing unusual. Now, please, allow me to bind your wound and promise me that you will not do this thing again.? Her fingers were still holding tight to Jets own. It was a symbolic action, they both knew Jet could overpower Vio at any time, it was a test of their friendship.

The silence seemed to stretch forever, broken only by the sound of thick, ruby drops of blood falling to the sink to join the growing puddle and then mingling with the running water. ?It is ok if I don?t tell Sergei about this, right??

?That you?re a cutter?? Using a very modern and ill-fitting term for what Jet had done? ?Yes, I think it will be alright if you tell him the full wound was from your bounty. But if you keep getting this hurt on the job he will start to think you inept, and we both know what that will do to you.? She spoke as she reached for the medkit, drawing out a suture pack.

?Yeah... I?ll think on it. After this we should get some steaks, nice and rare.? Her eyes were fading back to containing just a green color as she said the words and gave Vio an impish grin.

?Ugh, you know I will not be able to eat anything bloody for days. I will come to you for money if my dresses start falling of me because I cannot stomach the best foods in life.? Vio bantered as she went to work on the vicious wound, she wasn?t lying however, she?d not be able to eat anything meat-like for days after this. She could compartmentalize long enough to mend wounds but then she paid for the experience by losing her appetite for days. ?Sundaes and wine I think, on you.?

?Ugh!? Frowning at Vio. ?Is there anything that an Italian won?t have wine with??

?No, and why should we? Wine goes with absolutely everything!"

Vegas

Date: 2012-09-18 11:01 EST
Patience, it was adopted by those with limited time but embodied in the long-lived. That patience was spent watching from the shadows, and from the depths of the dreamscape. Jets dreams were now something he could slip into easily to watch and sometimes prod into directions he wished. He was working on breaking into those of Violettas, and Brooklyns but they were proving more difficult because of the special gifts they possessed. It was just a matter of time and he would have hooks in them as well, slowly breaking down the defenses until he could seep into their unconscious.

By following Jet he had learned of her newly formed relationship with Sergei and this gave him something new to focus his attention upon. He was cautious, he always started assuming that a person had talents that were hidden from the casual observer. After a few weeks he came to a conclusion that Sergei was exactly what he appeared to be, that being human.

He spent another few weeks observing Sergei and planning. At night he began the process of breaking into Sergei?s dreams, slowly and surely he would break in and be able to twist in ideas that would make Jet miserable. Misery would drive her back to the Brigade, not that they had agreed to have her back. Then she would need a friend, an... ally, for she would never be his friend. He would tear down everything she held dear, strip away her delusions of humanity and then his revenge would be complete.

Until he could twist the mind of the boy she was dating he thought he found a way to get close to him. Sergei was a flyboy and participated in the local high-speed racing. The notoriety that came with the sport was an ill-fitting suit on Sergei and that was where Vegas saw opportunity.

One of his talents included the reshaping of his face and form into something that would not be easily recognizable. There were somethings that could not be hidden from those with the skills to see but his deception skills would prove more than sufficient for what he had in mind.

The new form he took was similar to his true form, that would be easier to appear comfortable. Shorter hair, darker and true, free of the streaks that usually flowed through his locks. The gold of his eyes changed to a striking blue and he lengthened and thickened his frame, looking a bit more brutish. If it wasn?t for the aristocratic air to his facial features he might have looked intimidating, as it was he looked like a successful businessman. He looked at himself in a mirror, examining his work and the finely tailored suit he had made in preparation. ?You look good.? The words held a Russian accent to go with the persona he chose, a Russian talent-agent named Klavdii Romanov.

Now there was just the matter of putting himself in Sergei?s path, then the games could begin.








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