Yui-chan

There be more Duality, now! ... (14) Inquisition For anyone who ever saw the old short called 'Convolutions' that inspired the entire 'Duality' story, this is the issue that incorporates the scene from 'Convolutions'. Listenin' to the crickets chirp, ~Yui

(14) Inquisition ______________ "I'm thinkin' that stand o' trees over the ridge might be a good place to take a break an' find somethin' ta eat, Djaz. There's a stream runs by there, an' we 'aven't 'ad a drink since last night. Whadda ya say?" came the deep but quiet voice from Adreina's left, breaking into the haze that had closed in around her. She licked her lips with a dry tongue and tried not to think how nice a cool mouthful of water sounded. "You read my mind, Pel. Think you can find us something tasty for our lunch?" Djaz answered, drawing them both to a halt so that he could look at his friend. The big man looked slightly affronted. "O' course. I saw a kevitch trail jus' a few minutes back that looked nice an' fresh. I'll meet you two over there, then?" Djaz nodded, his expression falsely light, and intoned, "Sure. Just watch your back." "Always, kid," came the response, and Pellorin clapped a reassuring hand on his young leader's shoulder. He ignored the other man's raised brow at the invective, countering it with a warm grin. "You just keep an eye out for yourself an' the mite, 'ere. You're 'oldin' onto what they want, after all." "Pssh." The Hunter answered with a snort, rolling his eyes. "Get going, you big lug. I'm damned hungry!" As am I, Adreina thought, keeping her eyes on the ground lest her anticipation show. She wasn't sure whether they'd even bother to give her some food, but her knotting stomach relaxed somewhat at the very idea. In fact, every part of her weary body was looking forward to a rest, no matter how short it turned out to be. Pellorin left them, then, heading back the way they'd come while they continued on towards the scraggily trees that were just peeking over a low hill in the near distance. The young woman would have been very glad to make the trip in the same silent misery she'd been traveling in for hours, but it turned out that Djaz needed a new chatting partner in his friend's absence. Regardless of whether she wanted that honor or not, Adreina found herself firmly volunteered for the position. After only a few heartbeats of peace, his voice broke into the cold plain's silence. "Just for the record, it was the dustbunnies that gave you away." She blinked, lifting her gaze from the frozen grass at her feet to squint in puzzlement at the man walking beside her. "Huh?" The young man smirked, glancing down at her. "Dustbunnies. You know, the little fuzzy balls of fluff that gather under tables and in the unused corners of a room? They look like little miniature rabbits, all hairy and such..." When she simply shook her head, Djaz rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "Southerners." He said it as if that one word encompassed all that was wrong with the girl, but she imagined that he probably could have provided a longer list if asked. The silence stretched out a few paces before he groaned and turned an annoyed glare down at her. "Well? Aren’t you going to ask?" Adreina grimaced and closed her eyes for one brief moment, wondering if the man would ever just be silent. She knew better, really, but in the end she just met his gaze coolly and shook her head. It was a very deliberate and probably foolish gesture, but she really didn’t care a whit about his dustbunnies. Of course, he wasn’t overly interested in her opinion, so it didn’t hold much sway over his next words. "They’d moved, you see." She wondered why he acted as if that explained everything, but she wasn’t about to ask. "Oh, for the love of the Spirits," he exclaimed, stopping short. She nearly ran right into him, but his grip on her arm forced her protesting legs to stop just in time. The sudden change made her grimace as a muscle in her calf stabbed at her, but Djaz didn't seem to notice her discomfort, turning to her with another roll of those violet eyes. "Would you just try to think for one second? Your little nook was a damn good hiding spot, but you didn't know that Fergal never bothered to clean that corner. Every time you moved, the wind blew those little dirtballs around. Geez. Just think about that, wouldja? You owe all this to a few piles of fluff and some careless fidgeting." Adreina sighed heavily. She didn’t want to think about it at all, so instead she dropped her gaze once more to the frozen grass at her feet, the weight of inevitability heavy on her frail shoulders. She could feel the young Hunter staring at her, but she didn’t want to encourage him by looking up. She just wanted to be left alone. "By the—" He cut off the curse, flopping his free hand helplessly against his side. "You’re terrible company. Come on." A quick tug on her arm had them both moving again, and none too soon for her tastes. She was rather surprised that it'd been so easy to escape his desire for conversation, but it proved a short-lived respite as he tried again after only a few minutes. "So, how did you make it in this far, anyway, princess? Did you have contacts along the way?" Djaz tossed the questions casually over his shoulder as they climbed the low swell that would end at the trees, but Adreina wasn’t fool enough to miss the weight behind them. Here was a dangerous subject and a man looking for conspiracy. "Nai," she muttered, keeping her eyes cool as she stared straight ahead. She didn’t need to translate, nor did she intend to elaborate. Her recalcitrance earned her a skeptical snort. "I seriously doubt that. You’re not exactly built for the kind of journey it must have been." He stopped once again, turning the full measure of his gaze on her as if he could bore the truth out of her head with his eyes. Staring into those violet depths, she wasn’t entirely certain that he couldn’t. "Did you find some way to ride to Madorif? You can barely walk three hours without starting to limp." Perhaps he wasn't as unobservant as he seemed. Adreina fought the blush that threatened to rise into her cheeks, dropping her gaze to her boots. Even flexing her toes was enough to tighten her lips against stabs of pain in her feet. He didn't need to know that she'd used frequent breaks and light healing cantrips to enable herself to travel before she'd taken to hiding at Fergal's tavern; he'd either assume she was lying or probably hit her for daring to mention her magic. Clearly, it made him and his companion nervous to think about spellcrafting. Besides, she may have given away the secret of her ability to speak their language, but she still needed to keep whatever advantages she could. Magic was about the only potential weapon she had left, and even that was weakened by the ropes around her wrist and the unending hunger sapping her energy. Of course, he wasn't going to let her just not answer. Djaz slipped his fingers around her chin, raising her face to his inspection. She was surprised to find that the anger and derision were gone from his expression, leaving confusion and something akin to ... pity? "Why are you here, princess? What on earth would have motivated a young, soft woman like you to come into these lands, knowing you wouldn't be welcomed? You're going to die here." The warmth in his tone nearly undid her, leaving Adreina blinking back the tears that sprang into her eyes. Put so bluntly, his pronouncement of her inevitable demise was like a punch to the gut, and she trembled in reaction to her own fear. It was terribly embarrassing, not only because of the discerning gaze her captor kept on her, but also because of what it meant about her nature, what it said about her lack of faith. She closed her eyes because he would not let her turn her head away and fought to control her reaction, reminding herself that she had been set upon this path by her god. It had been his will that had sent her across the Guardian mountains, and she now served his divine purposes, knowing that her mortal punishment would be execution. She should have been able to take joy in her duty. She should have been able to look forward to death, knowing that she would be rewarded with eternal favor in his arms because of her sacrifice. Ah, but you're so weak, she thought sadly, feeling the wash of shame that reddened her cheeks. She knew it to be so because, since coming to the cold north, she had become filled with dread, fear and doubt. Given the situation, they could be forgiven in small amounts, but for the past few weeks, they had threatened to consume her. She knew that the great god granted comfort to those who were strong in their faith, but she had none; it was undoubtedly a punishment for the flaws in her soul, for her stubborn insistence on fighting death when it came for her, for her abominable lack of acquiescence to his will acting on her life. He knew her heart. He knew how unworthy she was, how badly she wanted someone to save her from the destiny he had given her. She was being tested, and as she stood there on the frozen plains, trembling like a kitten under the scrutiny of Djaz' violet eyes, she knew with heart-breaking certainty that she was failing. "You're not going to answer, are you?" The young man broke into her reverie of despair, his voice surprisingly soft. Adreina opened her eyes reluctantly. There he stood, his gaze intense, willing her to tell him her secrets. She felt the tug as a nearly physical thing, as if every part of him was pulling at every part of her, starting with the tingling place where his fingers held her chin. It was a strange feeling, though not quite unpleasant, and one so weak that she couldn't quite be certain whether she was imagining it or whether it was real. Was he even then working on her mind with some obscure Kohlanmer talent? She couldn't have said it was impossible, but her heart refused to be afraid of the sensation, whatever it was. "Nai," she whispered after a few heartbeats, watching his eyes harden at the rejection. "It... does'n matter any more..." For some reason, she found it uncomfortably painful to watch the candid warmth in his face die away, replaced with that old disdain and no small amount of anger. "As you wish, princess," he muttered, releasing her chin to offer her a mocking little bow. His voice was so cold that she shivered as he turned and swept away with a purposefully long stride, dragging her after him. For her part, she was too busy struggling to keep up and biting her lip against the protests of her tender feet to notice that he rubbed his free hand against his jacket, trying to rid himself of the strange tingling he felt there.

You're keeping secrets from us, Madamoiselle Celes? Bonne anniversaire, m'amie. I'm sorry to have missed it, but I hope it was a memorable day for you, Daemon and Starlight. Thank you, ~Yui

Yui wanders into the room, carefully avoiding all things glowing and neon with that uncanny way she has of sidestepping all mischief. Standing in her ebon cloak, she is a stark contrast to the blinding colors Mynx has spattered everywhere, her gaze shifting over the small crowd until she spots two new faces. With a grin, the young woman steps forward, offering her hand in turn to each stranger. "Ah, I heard that we had a pair of newcomers in our midst. Good day and welcome. If I know Mynx, one or both of you have already gotten the trounce-greeting, so let me offer you a more sedate version." She grins and winks at the colorful cat Pennite before turning her attention back to their guests. "Temae Yui desu, but please call me Yui-chan. Hajimemasita. It's a pleasure to meet you both."

Well, after a short delay, I've finally read the finale and epilogue to Ward, Zadown, and I hope you're proud of what you've accomplished. As a whole, I thought the tale had a wonderful balance of all the best parts of a fantasy story - action, drama, magic, battle, monsters, fascinating lore and intriguing characters. Your descriptions were just rich enough to be clear without being cumbersome. Your language and tone were crystalline and consistent, giving unity and precision to a long tale written in many sessions (which can be very challenging!). Grammar, punctuation and spelling were in great shape throughout, especially given your tendency to dislike revision. This is an A+ piece, Z, like the vast majority of what you write. Thank you for taking a vague, spur-of-the-moment suggestion and turning it into a masterpiece, and extra-thankyous for being kind enough to share it with us while you did it. I've really enjoyed Ward from start to finish, and I'm grateful that you've given us such a unique glimpse into the Dreamer's inner life and workings. It's everything I hoped to see when we first talked about the concept - and more!. I can't wait to find out what's next. On that note.... I hope you'll reconsider your urge not to post 'Oblivion'. I'm very interested in seeing it, and your comments in your writer's journal are very teasing. Please? Yours sincerely, ~Yui

Fear not, great leader! We've got a big enough stock of bubble gum and duct tape to hold this place together for a week or two more. Just... y'know ... don't take too long, okay? ;;; No, seriously... We've missed you, and while we're waiting with baited breath for your life and connection to become more amenable to your presence, here, we'll do our best to be patient. Take care of what's important, Ozy-san, and rest assured that the Pen will wait until you can get back to it. Much Unconditional Support, ~Yui

By the time the sun rose to conquer the blue-grey night, the Halls of the Mighty Pen were already starting to fill with sleepy-eyed figures and lively morning-goers. They drifted from their rooms into a mist-silvered morning, exchanging their quiet greetings and friendly hugs in a ritual that was quickly becoming tradition. Yui watched it all from a bench in the alcove, her eyes dim and underscored by purple shadows that told the story of another sleepless night. Her lips were ghosted with the hint of a smile, and her slim hands toyed absently with the sealed lip of a small letter. "Yip!" came the enthusiastic interruption from her dead-eyed revery, and her smile gained substance, her gaze shifting to the flame-colored furrball who bounded up on the bench beside her. "Good morning, Daryl," she said softly, reaching out to give the fox a pat between the ears. "From the grin on your face, I'd guess that your night's hunting went well?" He nodded, flicking his tail back and forth happily and leaning into her hand with a soft 'murrr'. "Yarf! Yipyip, yarf." "Ah, I see," the Huntress answered with a laugh, succumbing automatically to Daryl's demands for more involved pets. She skritched between his ears, shifting as he padded over and plopped his furry rear down by her hip. "So, did you bail him out, or leave the Ranger to take care of all five of them by himself?" Her smirk suggested that she already knew the answer, and it was mirrored by the were-fox's own mischevious grin. "Yiyip yap yuff," he answered, confirming her expectations. Yui shook her head, tweaking one pointed, black-tipped ear in mock annoyance. "You're a scoundrel and a cheat, Daryl Carnsillion, and when Gyrfalcon gets back, you'd better not come running to me for protection. After a trick like that, you and your fuzzy little tail deserve whatever he plans to give you." The harsh words were softened by the grin she couldn't keep from her face. Daryl just winked playfully and leaned into her side, demanding more pets. His golden eyes flitted about for a moment before coming to rest on the neat square of folded parchment in her lap, and he pawed at the letter, asking about it in his forthright way. "Oh, that?" the young woman responded, rescuing the page from his careful claws and flipping it over to finger the simple, wax seal. "It's just a short thank-you to Jonathan. He paid off his bachelor's auction date, last night." "Yarf? Yapyerf yuff?" Yui shook her head, her lips once again twisting in a smirk. "No, of course not. He was every bit the gentleman and wrote me a lovely poem." Cocking his head to one side, the fox pressed further, "Yuffyuff? Yipip yap yip?" "Daryl!" The rather blunt question made the Huntress laugh, and once again her small friend got his ear tweaked. "No, Aegon didn't cut his tail off and stuff it ... anywhere! He didn't know about the date, and..." She placed a finger over his mouth and cold, black nose. "... you most definitely are not going to be informing him of it. Right?" The threat of mischief was written in stone in the scowl she shot him. Still, like the troublemaker he was, Daryl spent a few seconds pretending to ponder that course of action. Yui folded her arms across her chest and speared him with her best 'Just you try it, mister' look, and finally he had to laugh, bowing his nose to his forepaws in a little, wordless promise. "Goooood little fox," she teased condescendingly, patting his head. "You wouldn't want to deliver this for me, would you? I think a thank-you goes very well with an early-morning pounce, and goodness knows, you're better at catching Jonathan than I could ever be." The werefox's eyes lit up playfully, and he nodded, yipping his enthusiasm. They both knew that if he hurried, there was even a chance that he could score that most vaunted bed-tackle that always scared the bejeezuz out of his similarly-canine friend. Every chance to one-up Jon in the stalking-and-gnawing arena was fun waiting to happen, and the thief-turned-fox had never been good at resisting an excuse to have some fun. Daryl grabbed the offered letter in his teeth, holding it gently as he yurfed a muffled 'goodbye' and hopped down from the bench, racing off down the hallway. Weaving through the waking Pennites was child's play, and in moments, he was trotting to a stop in front of Jonathan Wolfe's door. A knock would have ruined the surprise, so the fox just stepped silently forward and pressed an ear against the smooth wood. On the other side, he could hear the regular cadence of his rival's sleeping breath. Smiling a very evil smile, Daryl nosed the door open and crept silently into the room... Ten minutes later, after a cacaphony of yipping, crashing, thumping and warfing, he left significantly more quickly, laughing as he bounded away down the hall with Jonathan's yapped curses burning the marble behind him. It was going to be a good day. ______ Jonathan Wolfe wurred grumpily under his breath, twitching his tail back and forth in agitation as he watched his friend-and-tormenter disappear around the corner in a flash of red tail. Oh, there would be revenge at some point, but for the moment, all he wanted was to crawl back into bed and finish his very nice dream about chasing winged rabbits. Shuffling towards the mound of pillows on his human-sized bed, he almost missed the letter Daryl had tossed on the side table. He blinked, tilting his head as he sniffed at the creamy parchment. "Yui?" he yipped to himself, wondering what the Elder might be writing him about. Surely, she wasn't expecting more from the bachelor's auction...? Nearly as dextrous in fox-form as he was in human form, the little creature slit the seal with one claw and pressed the note open, his dark eyes slipping back and forth as he read down through the lines of scrawled handwriting.

If your muse is anything like Salinye's, Ayshela, then I'm suddenly really glad that I don't owe anyone a date. ;;; Briefly, ~Yui

Standing over Wyvern's fallen form, the Huntress rolled her eyes and shot a grin to her partner in crime, who stepped out from behind the fountain and clapped a hand on the massive shoulder of her ogre Muse. The other woman's blue eyes twinkled in the darkness, bright with barely-concealed mirth. "That was great! You should have seen his face when Bertha turned around, Yui. It was priceless!" The little woman across the way laughed softly, leaning down to pat Wyvern's rough cheek ineffectually. "I can imagine. You two were great. I can't thank you enough for helping." "Our pleasure, Yui. Right, Bertha?" "Yeah, but ..." The ogress pouted slightly, her beady, black eyes fixed on the fallen almost-dragon. "Me kinda wanted a kiss. Little dragonling is cute an' me always liked a man in scales." Salinye and Yui both raised brows at the ogress over that one, but the mild horror of the thought was quickly overshadowed by a particularly vivid mental image of Bertha dragging him around by the tail that had them doubled over, laughing. Twisted minds think alike. It was the human who recovered first and, swiping the tears of mirth from her eyes, peered down at the unconscious form lumped at her feet. "Well, maybe if you ask really nicely, he'll give you one next time, Bertha. ... ask really nicely and offer him a geld." The intent expression on the ogress' face as she considered that advice nearly triggered another fit of giggles, but Salinye chose that moment to interject the question she'd been biting back since her partner in crime had first asked for her help. "So, as much fun as this was, why exactly did you want to shock the horns off Wyvern in the first place?" "Mph," Yui huffed in response, her lips twisting up in a wry little grin. "Mostly because it's fun. I also needed some measure of revenge for spending an afternoon trapped in the shadows thanks to his incessant scheming. You would not believe the stunning headache I had after that much time on the wrong side of the light!" The sorceress nodded sympathetically, brushing her hair back from her shoulder. "Oh, yes. I remember you mentioning how tiring that is for you," she said, following her words with the growth of another deliciously-wicked smile. "You're going to have to tell me about this episode, though. How did he manage to do that? For that matter, I still need to hear the rest of the details of your bachelor date with him." Yui couldn't resist an answering smile, and she easily promised, "I'll be sure to tell you all about it tomorrow, as long as you promise not to mention anything to Aegon. I didn't ... exactly tell him about the auction or the dates I won." "Eep. Are you sure that was wise?" "Well, no, but..." The Huntress shrugged, grimacing theatrically, "it sure is easier than spending an hour convincing him that it's all for fun and the sake of Pen participation. What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?" Blue eyes narrowing skeptically, Salinye frowned. "Mmm... I suppose not." Despite her friend's lack of conviction, Yui nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Exactly. Now, I'm going to sit down and wait for Mr. Manly, here, to wake back up. There's still one more little thing I want from him before our date is complete." Salinye raised a brow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? And what's that?" Unable to resist a chance to be mysterious, the Huntress just gave her elven friend a smug smile. "I'll tell you about that tomorrow, too. Goodnight, Salinye. Bertha." "Oooooh, you...." As much as she wanted to ferret the story out, Salinye knew that expression meant she'd get nothing more for the time being. There was nothing for it but to accept defeat gracefully, so she stuck out her tongue at the other woman and grumbled, "Fine, but if you forget to come find me, I'm sending Bertha after you." Somehow, the grin Bertha offered to the small Huntress managed to be amusing yet threatening at the same time, and Yui hastened to bow politely. "Heaven forbid! I'll be sure to find you. Now, shoo before he wakes up." She softened the order with a wink and watched them both wander back into the building, leaving her alone in the dark but for an unconscious lizard. Yui sat down on the lip of the fountain, ever mindful of her beautiful new dress, and rested her chin on her fist, resigning herself to waiting for Wyvern to come back to his senses. ...

- 12:02 am - "Oh, dear, oh, dear!" The little white rabbit pulled a fob watch from his jacket pocket without breaking a stride, clucking in dismay at what he read on its mother-of-pearl face. His cotton-ball tail shuddered as he redoubled his pace, hopping madly down the corridor. "Oh, my, oh, dear! This won't do. Won't do at all... I'm late! I'm la--ugh!!!" THUMP. Before he knew what had hit him, the hapless gentleman bunny was facedown on the ground, as near to two-dimensional as he ever wanted to get and sporting a fresh wyvern-print in the center of his back. He raised black, beady, bleary eyes just in time to see his heavy attacker shoot a glance back at him and belatedly announce, "Look out! Late almost-dragon comin' through!" "..." Without a word, the rabbit flopped his head back to the floor, ignoring the thrown 'Almost-Draconic Emergency Services' business card that lay beside him. Wyvern skidded around the corner and burst through the doorway, running full-tilt along the wall of the main building. His almost-draconic brand wristwatch said that it was 11:48pm, and he winced inwardly, hoping his mysterious and sexy admirer (who was gaining favorable adjectives every time he thought of her) would wait for him. Of course, if she was as hopelessly in love with him as he assumed she was, she'd probably wait forever, but a playah just didn't take chances with the honeys. With one paw holding the heavy mass of afro wig steady on his head, Wyvern rounded the corner and bounded into the courtyard, his gaze riveted to the dimly-lit fountain at its center. There! Standing nearby, he could see an unmistakably humanoid shadow, an undoubtedly-frantic devotee silhouetted by the silvery light of the moon. Each four-pawed gallop brought him closer to the woman of his dreams, and the almost-dragon couldn't help but pant happily at the very thought of the beauty that awaited him... "My princess," Wyvern exclaimed as he approached, too excited to wait until he could see his lady, "my lovely and extremely tasteful bride-to-be! I hope you didn't worry because I was late. I've come for you, my dearest ... " At that moment, she turned into the light, revealing a large woman with a besotted grin and a very large mallet held in her beefy hands. "ogress?!" Screaming like a little girl, the almost-dragon screeched to a stop, his claws digging long furrows in the earth as his bugging eyes ran over the horror in front of him. Pot-bellied, black-eyed and green-skinned, she smiled at him through half-black teeth, her lips stretching around the massive tusks that jutted out from her lower jaw. Far from the lithe and curvaceous figure in his daydreams, she was a block of sturdy muscle softened by the flubber of a massive, drooping stomach that dripped out from under her horrifying spandex tank top. Her legs, encased in a matching pair of spandex capris, might have been passably pleasant if not for the wiry coat of black hair that just screamed 'yetti'. As Wyvern ogled in stunned dismay, the massive admirer before him raised arms that would have made Conan the Barbarian jealous and rumbled, "Oh. Dearest Wyvern. How I have. Waited for dis moment to. Hold you in my. Loving. Arms and... um... smothah you wif. Da kind of kisses. Dat your han'some. Veerage... er... Veezage deserves." She paused awkwardly, tilting her head as if listening to something, then brightened her ferocious smile and nodded. "Come to. Me. And let. Me. Show you da. Powah. Of my. ... uh ... Admeeration. And. Love." "S-s-s..." As she thundered towards him, step by slow step, the almost-dragon quaked in his nonexistent boots, trying to force words past the lump of ice in his throat. "S-s-s... s-st...s-s-stay a-away!" His attempt at command might as well have been a blown kiss for all the effect it had on his behemoth of an 'admirer', for she smiled toothily and growled, "Do not. Fear. My widdle wubbums-wyvie-pooh. You don't gotta be shy around youah big princess, or nuddin'." As she stepped within arms reach, the green beefcake clapped her rock-crushing hands over Wyvie's shoulders and pulled him close enough to smell the garlicked boar stew on her breath. Puckering lips that looked for all the world like hair-dotted caterpillars, she leaned in with amorous intent, closing her eyes. "YEARGH!" The threat of imminent death by kissation jarred her unwilling paramour from his paralysis, and Wyvern jerked away, sacrificing a few precious scales to her grip. He didn't waste any time mourning them, though, his claws scrabbling on the grass as he turned and dropped to all fours, fully prepared to launch into a life-saving sprint back the way he came. It was the other voice that stopped him before he got more than pace or two, its familiar tones short-circuiting his one-track mind with confusion. "...well. I admit I wasn't really expecting you to bring another woman to our first-and-a-half date, Wyvern." Yui-chan frowned slightly as she stepped from the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, but the object of her ire forgot to notice that as he stared, slack-jawed and silent, at the vision she made. She was wearing it, the dress, the masterpiece of black velvet and sparkling diamonds that had made her stunning on the stage of Merelas' fashion show. At midnight in the Mighty Pen's courtyard, however, with the moon making her hair silver and her skin luminous above a bodice filled with diamonds that twinkled with her every breath, the young woman put the word 'stunning' to shame. She looked nothing less than celestial, like a part of the heavens that had escaped from the night sky to dance closer to the earth. Poor Wyvern could barely process a thought past the sight of her. "Y... Y-Y... Yui?!" He managed to squeak the single word past the malfunction in his brain before the sheer number of shocks in the past few minutes caught up with him. With a little whimper, the almost-dragon succumbed to a dead faint, his eyes rolling back in his head as he sunk to the ground.

In the course of the busy day, Yui wanders by Valdar's notice and peers at it with interest... until she reaches the part about having to have completed last year's piece in order to participate. At that point, a blush slowly creeping up her cheeks, she reaches back and draws the cowl of her cloak over her head and turns to wander off, mumbling something about tigertaurs and work queues that are getting more than a year long. I never finished the last one. Sorry. Slackerish, ~Yui

Yui spends the first half of the evening making sure that Thinas joins Brute in partaking of the alcohol and the second half of the evening biting her lip to keep from laughing after she's convinced him to try a few of the expressions in the earspeak book. Needless to say, the darkelf's dignity might have suffered greatly if she weren't one of the only people left in the room who was sober enough to remember the entire episode. By the end of the night, she's given up on getting anyone to their beds and just settles for reading a book on the Cabaret Room floor while Thinas, Brute, Wyvern and many others loll about, snoring drunkenly. Many happy returns to you both. I hope your birthdays have been memorable and wonderful. Much love, ~Yui

(13) Foot In Front of Foot _______________________ Adreina tensed at the Hunter's words, fighting the urge to pull away, to finally give in to the temptation to try to run from him and his big, dark companion. The bloodshed she'd just witnessed made it a little to easy to call to mind an image of Djaz' dagger slicing the tender flesh of her neck, of her blood pouring down her shoulder and chest to join the red-black stain on her tunic from when she'd held the old man, Craedi. The vigor of her imagination chilled her to the bone far more effectively than the cold air of the burgeoning morning, but she fought back the shudder that threatened to skitter across her shoulder blades. The two men with her had already seen enough of her vulnerability; she was determined not to show them any more. That promised to be a sizeable challenge, though, as she was tired and shaky, exhausted as much by the short night's sleep as by the challenge of the mental games the purple-eyed man seemed to constantly play with her. Undoubtedly, half of the reason he'd spoken so coldly of putting a knife to her neck was because he knew it would alarm her. It hadn't escaped her notice that he liked to keep her off-balance, unsettled, and generally confused - smiling one moment, violent the next, and then bouncing between coldness and caring. Given the windstorm of chaos that he left in her mind and heart, she was very proud that she ever managed to keep her face impassive. She just needed to work a little harder to ignore the strange tingle that she felt where he held her elbow. The young woman turned her attention purposefully away from Djaz and watched his bigger companion. Pellorin stood a few paces away, his leonine eyes narrowed as he considered his young friend's words, pondering the implications and possibilities. She knew the direction his thoughts had probably taken and followed it, wondering if threatening her own life would truly safeguard theirs. After all, it was true that the assassin hadn't killed her when he'd had the chance, though there had been more than enough time to run her through a few times over. Still, there was a big difference between saying that he wanted her alive and saying that he needed her alive. If it was merely a case of preference, then the Hunter and his man would have no leverage when they found themselves facing the next squad of killers. They would die before they could even realize their mistake. "It's a start, at least." Pellorin spoke up, interrupting her musings. Apparently, he thought it was a risk worth considering. She ignored the sinking sensation from somewhere near her heart, forcing herself to remember that he, too, was Kohlani. It explained away a lot of things that might otherwise have been hurtful. "Now, all we need is to find out who's after us, why they're wantin' us dead, and 'ow we can protect ourselves from their magic long enough to get the mite to the Collectors. If the Collectors don't turn out ta be the ones who want us dead, after all. Piece 'o cake," he mumbled, failing to keep the cynicism out of his deep voice. "You make it all sound so easy, Pel," came the predictable response, complete with a cocky grin and a twinkle that lit the Hunter's bright eyes. He earned himself a very unsavory snort and a roll of the eyes. "It's a gift I 'ave, that's for sure. I can make anythin' that's damned well bleedin' impossible sound like a dance through the daisies. Where you come in is makin' it 'appen despite the monumental odds against us." "That's why they pay me the big wages while you get nothing but peanuts. Just wait and see," he promised with a mischievous wink. Pellorin actually grinned at that one, and Adreina could see some of the tension flow out of his broad shoulders. Had she known the source of his confidence, she might well have shared in his comfort, but as it was, she could do little more than peer up at the young man's brash smile and worry. ++++++ Five hours later, the young Toi had forgone worrying in the face of the need to put foot in front of foot, a process that was becoming increasingly challenging. The men had not stopped walking since the morning, when Djaz had suddenly chosen a direction and grabbed hold of her arm, tugging her off across the frozen tundra as Pellorin followed, and they most certainly hadn't bothered to inquire as to her comfort. Not that she'd have told them her woes even if they'd asked. No, exhaustion was a state she could live with, as were the aches and pains of her abused body: the bruise across her shoulders that pulled miserably every time Djaz jostled her arm and the stinging blue-black welts that poor, dead Craedi had left on her neck. Her stomach, which was still tight with cramped muscles and tender to the touch, was a little harder to take silently, but she kept her peace by biting her lip whenever it stabbed her especially hard. The real challenge lay in walking without a limp, as her feet had become more and more tender, having progressed from pain, through agony and numbness, and on to excruciating torture. She had never walked so far in one day, before, let alone on hard, often icy land and in boots that were a size too big and stolen from a farmstead near the mountains. Adreina found herself nearing despair as she reflected on the fact that the sun had not even quite reached its zenith, yet. By the time the day was over, her feet would be bleeding, if they weren't already. She refused to glance down and find out. But more stubbornly, she refused to tell any of this to her Kohlanmer captors, simply walking along as best she could, keeping her silence while they chattered back and forth, droning on and on about things she neither knew nor cared about. There were cities she'd never heard of and taverns she'd never set foot in. Pellorin told a few tales about his wife and children, none of whom she would ever see; and Djaz laughed over some bawdy jokes that she couldn't quite understand. She rather imagined that the words she didn't recognize were anatomical references, but she didn't care enough to ask. Instead, she just watched the ground and willed one foot in front of the other, continuing on that way for what seemed like an eternity. "You realize that you’re weaving about like a drunkard, don’t you?" Adreina blinked, noting the change in Djaz' tone that heralded his attention had swung to her. She lifted her head for the first time in hours, staring at him as she took a few seconds to recall his words and then a few more to properly translate them. Her thoughts were alarmingly sluggish. "Gi haivem 'darunkard' arut’ord souvharen?" She didn’t realize she’d failed to translate her thoughts until he frowned. "Um... What is it - a 'drunkard'?" He shook his head. "You really are quite out of your league hereabouts, huh? I’ll never understand how you made it all the way to Madorif as you are." She may not have spoken his language all that clearly, but she certainly understood his tone and the derisive snort that followed. His scorn stung, strangely enough, and the young woman found herself looking away from his cool eyes. "A drunkard is someone who’s had too much booze, princess. And you’re looking as unable to walk a straight line as the worst of them. What’s wrong with you, hm?" Adreina didn't know how to answer that question, so she glanced over at Pellorin where he walked a few paces away. He, too, was watching her, though his expression held far less scorn and even a hint of concern. It was such a welcome sentiment that she had to struggle with her face to keep it from breaking into a smile. Of course, she'd already lost the battle to keep herself from recognizing and appreciating the kindness that the big, dark man showed her. It was going to be hard to avoid trusting him. "Hey!" Fingers snapping in her face drew her attention back to the man at her side, who was staring down at her with a frown drawn across his thin lips. "I asked a question, highness." The only answer she gave him was a noncommittal shrug that darkened his violet eyes with anger. She wasn’t about to tell him that she was surely dying from exhaustion, or that she was pretty certain her feet were bleeding in preparation for falling off if they walked another pace. She may not have had much, any more, but she still had far too much pride to mention to this ruffian just how much she was suffering. Then again, if either he or Pellorin realized it for themselves, she probably wouldn't argue. Unfortunately for Adreina, the men weren't the most observant of creatures. Djaz stared at the young woman for a moment, then raised his brows in the classic 'suit yourself' expression, shrugged, and turned back to the plains, dragging her after him. Adreina didn’t have much choice but to hurry on his heels, swallowing a grimace as her body protested. Pellorin's boots crunched on the ground behind them, and she could feel his dark-gold eyes on her back, leaving her to hope that her limp wasn't too pronounced.

Katz, Thank you for reading this. I appreciate the comments. It's kind of funny the way strict, metric poetry is dependent upon dialect and region. You brought up 'detail' as a perfectly valid example. Another one that hit me while I was writing 'Perfectionist' is the word 'every'. Now, it's no secret that I naturally speak a bit of a country-fied American dialect, but I never before thought about the fact that 'every' can have either two syllables or three, depending on your pronunciation. I say ev-ree, so it ruins a line I write if the reader says ev-er-ee. So it's not just about what you write, it can also be about how you write it! Fascinating, huh? It's all part of the wordplay that makes poetry fun, and I think I agree with you that there is not solution. Perhaps that's why people sometimes don't get a poem on the first read? Sometimes, maybe, it takes a few reads to realize that the author was 'pronouncing' certain words differently than you are. As for the last line, you got it on the second try. I really struggled with that line, trying to find something that would fit better yet still convey my meaning in a nice, abstract way... I'm afraid I never stumbled upon a better way to say it, though I agree with you about the weaknesses of those words. Like you saw, it's easily misinterpreted and not necessarily obvious from the first. Then again, it's a perfect example of how the 'perfectionist' way of interpreting something (the author's 'correct' way) is not necessarily the only or best way. Yeah, I don't like it either, but I guess it'll probably stay there until I can come up with a more clear way to say what I wanted. :/ So, thanks for the feedback! You always have such good insights into a piece. Yours, ~Yui

Perfectionist 2 September, 2004 A life defined in black and white, devoid of shades of grey, Each choice assigned to 'wrong' or 'right' concedes no other way. Opinions not just held, but clenched in fists of stubborn steel, Are rooted deep, entwined, entrenched, against outsiders' zeal. The critic's eyes see ev'ry smudge in pitiless detail, Dissect, dissolve and duly judge, lest ignorance prevail. A honey voice, so harsh without, yet harsher still within, To crumble walls of strong redoubt and lash at hidden sin. The line must be both straight and true, the word assigned with care, Lest flaws in 'yours' show flaws in you. Perfectionist, beware: A spine of glass that cannot bend will someday have to break. A shell of pride so slow to mend will crack with each mistake. A heart that hides in jealous thorns will bleed with ev'ry beat. A life spent hunting unicorns will only find defeat.

Wyvie, Thanks for the response, especially after so long. It's not often that a piece will get anything when it's had time to linger for a while, and I appreciate you taking the time to come back and give me your thoughts. 'Blue wind' is in there to suggest nighttime (perhaps not so effectively ;;, and the last haiku is not really exactly part of the rest. It's sort of tacked on as an afterthought. It's very good of you to notice that it doesn't quite jive with the rest of the piece, because really it's just not meant to. Good eye. Yours, ~Yui

Solivagus and Vanessa, Don't worry. This isn't going to send you an email every time the administrator makes a post or moves a thread. This option just ensures that you will receive the mass-mail announcements that administrators can send in the board controls. (Things like "Bingo night at Ozymandias' house! Friday at 8pm! BYOB and don't forget the cheese dip!" or, more realistically, "Please be advized that the Mighty Pen website will be down on September X for x hours due to routine server maintenance.") To the best of my knowledge, we have never used that option, and we even go so far as to keep our list of member email addresses manually rather than rely on the board. Granted, you wouldn't know that because we send out mass mails once every other blue moon. I wouldn't worry too much about it. The Pen really tries not to accost anyone's innocent email inboxes unless the end of the world is nigh. The Answer Wiz, :wizzie: ~Yui

(12) Trust No One __________________ The younger man turned to look at his companion, his eyes going wide. "The Elite? Do you think it's possible?" Pel frowned and shrugged, his face a mask of uncertainty. "Could be, Djaz. I ain't 'eard nothing about them beyond that they use magic and work exclusively for the 'ighest levels of the government. It might well be true..." The Hunter cursed and set his bundle of loot on the ground, wracking his brain for anything he'd ever heard about the Noble-born Elite. There wasn't much to go on; they were largely considered a myth, a story made up by angry fathers to keep their headstrong young boys in line. After all, it was hard to believe that the guilds would make a practice of taking in unruly children with the intention of turning them into man-magic hybrids, even if it was supposedly to serve the best interests of the Kohlanmer Republic. Trading their souls for the most powerful spells, sneaking into the homes of the disloyal and turning them to stone, assassinating foreign ministers and leaders of the island nations - those were the kinds of intrigues and fanciful stories that made for a good evening around a bard's campfire but fit poorly within the boundaries of reality. However, Djaz had never been the type to ignore the evidence of his own senses, and slit-pupiled, magic-tattooed assassins who could blend into the darkness and make an entire area disappear in an instant fit just a little too well into the myth for his tastes. Still, whether they'd been members of the Elite or not, the men that he and his companions had faced had been real and very dangerous. They had known precisely where and when to strike, catching his team at its weakest. He was still puzzling over how they'd taken out Thom, the best lookout among them, without giving him a chance to make even the slightest sound. Nothing had ever gotten past his cousin's keen eyes and sharp hearing before. Most alarming, though, was that they'd come for the captive that no one should have known he'd had, government or cult alike. It hadn't been long enough for anyone to have interviewed the tavern patrons and tracked them down, so how had they known when and where to come for her? Had that been the work of their magic? If so, if their spells could make them that close to omniscient, what chance did he have of ever keeping his friend and his Toi safe from them? Djaz growled, shoving a hand through his hair in frustration, and mumbled aloud, "You've got no stinkin' chance, that's what. Damned mages." "What's that?" came the response from his big friend, and Djaz remembered himself, flashing a lighthearted smirk. "Ah, it's nothing, Pel. Just thinking aloud." He turned to the black-haired woman, regarding her through narrowed eyes. "You haven't lied to us, have you, Toi? Did Craedi really tell you that? Are you sure you got the word right?" Adreina nodded enthusiastically. "Tha word is good. I swear this to ye." There were long heartbeats where he just stared at her, like Craedi had minutes before, gauging the truth in those almondine eyes. He almost would have preferred a lie to the disturbing implications that the truth held, but she wasn't offering him any reason to disbelieve her. Except that she's a southerner, he reminded himself sternly, his eyes narrowing on her face, and therefore a mystery. Who knew what was driving her, given her situation? She was a captive being taken to the Collectors, where she would be tried and executed as a spy; Djaz had seen in her face that the little woman knew this, understood the finality of her situation. Surely that couldn't be a good motivation to want to stay with them, and yet she had screamed for help when faced with capture by the golden-masked men. She had screamed for him and Pellorin, had chosen to stay their captive rather than face whatever the black-clad figure had in store for her. It made no sense... unless she knew something that they didn't. The thought clicked, and Djaz was suddenly very, very curious about what was going on in that foreign mind of hers. His gaze danced her face, and he found that her expression, her soft little dirt-streaked face and slightly-parted lips, was too guileless to be true. Those big, gray eyes looked innocent and clear, but behind that he could see the caution, the wall guarding her innermost feelings from him. The young man smirked. She was a damned good actress, but she wasn't quite good enough to slip past him. All he needed was to shake her up a bit. The Hunter devised his strategy in an instant, his face slipping easily into reluctant acceptance. He shrugged and turned back to Pel, "Whether they're Elite or not, we're not just going to hand over our lives. We need to figure out precisely what's going on so that we can find a way to defend ourselves." "Well, there's the problem, ain't it?" Pellorin responded, his frown dark and pessimistic. "If there were a way to defend against Noble-born magic, I figure someone with common blood woulda started usin' it a long time ago. We may be up a creek without a paddle, 'ere, an' I'm doubtin' they'd offer us a clear road out even if we 'anded the little mite over right now." "It's an option, though." Djaz pretended to consider it seriously, watching the woman from the corner of his eye. "We could leave her somewhere for them and be well away by the time they found her. They probably wouldn't bother to hunt us if they had the Toi." Neither of the men missed the fact that all color drained from their captive's face at that idea, and Djaz smirked in triumph. Her mask had cracked thoroughly. "Now, that bothers you, doesn't it, princess?" he muttered, watching her carefully. "What do you know about those killers that makes you so nervous, hm?" "I... I dunna know about tha masked demons," the little woman responded, meeting his gaze hesitantly. There was the fear that had been hidden before, and he could see her trying to wall it up once more. "... my heart jus' says they are more evil than ye. Lotta more." Djaz raised a brow, considering it quite likely that her instincts were right, but he wasn't going to let her off that easily. "Your heart, eh? Do you always listen to your heart that way?" She hesitated, her eyes dropping to the ground, but after a few heartbeats, she nodded. "'Tis usually right, tha feelin' in here." Her chest thumped hollowly as she tapped it, and when she raised her eyes once more, there was such unguarded honesty and uncertainty in them that it took both of the men aback. "Not always ... um... unnerstood, but right." After pondering that for a moment, Djaz lifted his foot, dragging the pitch-black cloak he'd salvaged from the last assassin's well-gutted corpse up from where he'd laid it on the ground. He couldn't think of anything to say and felt vaguely uncomfortable with the raw vulnerability of her expression. She was clearly as troubled and confused by the choices she'd made as he was, and that more than anything else, left him unsettled. Leave it to a woman to be not only incomprehensible to men, but also to herself. The young man shook his head, snapping the cloak once to open it before he stepped forward and draped it over his puzzling little captive's narrow shoulders. He rather enjoyed the way wariness and surprise mingled in her eyes, and he offered her a charming grin just to make her more nervous as he bent over to close the three buttons at the collar. It worked perfectly, and she tried to pull back, her brow furrowing. "Wha's this?" "It's a cloak, princess," the young man replied in a matter-of-fact tone, holding her still with a firm grip on the edges of the cape. "The man who used to wear it doesn't need it any more, and you do." When she shuddered in revulsion, he ignored it, instead tucking the generous material tightly around her as she stared up at his face. Inches separated them, and he could feel the slight heat radiating from her skin. It could almost have been a tender moment, if the two people involved didn't view each other in much the same light as mortal enemies. The thought turned the young man's lips down, and he pulled away wondering if he was starting to go soft on his fragile prey. When he turned back to Pellorin to see the amusement in his eyes, the frown only deepened. The Hunter switched his mind back to the issue at hand, daring his friend to say anything with his eyes. The other man was wise enough to keep his own counsel. "So what's the real plan, then? I know ya wouldn' really be handin' over yer prey to the likes o' no one," said Pellorin, changing the subject. His eyes were on Adreina, and he flashed her a slight, reassuring smile that had Djaz raising a brow speculatively. It seemed like he wasn't the only one who needed to worry about going soft on their little Toi. "Well, whether they're Elite or not, we know what they're after, and I don't think that just includes taking our captive from us. They want us dead, probably because we're the only ones who would know what happened to her," the young man answered, regarding his partner thoughtfully. "We're going to have to be careful who we trust from now on, Pel. There's a lot of the government's stink on this, and until we have more information, we can't be sure we haven't been betrayed by someone within our own organization." The big man raised a brow at that, peering at his leader. "Do ya think someone's after 'er jus' ta discredit ya, then?" "No," Djaz shook his head, "though I had considered it. If this were about ruining my career or sabotaging some of my plans, they wouldn't be trying to kill us. Anyone who wanted to get at me that way would want me very much alive to suffer the humiliation of being defeated." Rather than reassure Pellorin, that statement seemed to worry him. He glanced over at the young woman who watched them, his eyes darkening worriedly. "They'd be after the mite, then, fer certain." "Right. Which gives us a distinct advantage." The young man flashed his friend a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, stepping back over to take a hold of the Toi's elbow through the fabric of her new cloak. "We have something they want." "'Ow's that gonna 'elp us?" the other man queried, peering at his friend. "Simple. They want her alive, Pel, and that gives us a foolproof bargaining chip." Djaz' smiled darkened, his eyes narrowing with the self-satisfaction of a man who knows he has the upper hand. His grip tightened fractionally on her arm, and she looked up at him, worried about the track of his thoughts. "If they threaten us again, all we have to do is put a blade to her neck."

... and as they were flying high over the palm-tree canopy of the jungle, Melvin felt a tingle that began in his eyestalks and radiated down to his slimy little tail. Suddenly, poof, he was human again and screaming like a little girl with her pigtails caught in Big Billy Beefcake's fat fists as he and his overburdened bird escort plunged like fallen stars towards the vegetation-crowded ground below. ... meanwhile, Vinnie was happily sliming his way across his imitation-meat-substitute McDonald's hamburger when poof, he found himself refreshingly human again, crouched on the cheap plastic table. Blinking in bewilderment, he reached up to pluck the sauce-laden bun from his head just as Wendy beside him covered her eyes and screamed, "No shirt, no shoes, no PANTS, no service! OUT! OUT!" It happened so fast that Vinnie didn't even figure out what had upset her until the McD's security guards threw him bodily out the door. As he scraped across the sidewalk, the sting of the asphalt revealed to him in unpleasant ways that not only was he human again, but he was also butt nekkid. >_

- 11:55pm - Gyrfalcon barked out a dwarvish curse, grabbing his aching shin and catching himself with a desperate grip on a bedpost. "Wyvern, this has gone a little beyond amusing. Get this, this ... thing off my head!" he growled, his voice muffled by strange, warbling little creature that had wrapped itself bonelessly over his eyes and half of his face. "Um... gee, sorry, Gyr, but I really can't right now. I'm going to be late if I don't hurry up, and you should know a playah never keeps the ladies waiting," Wyvie hissed from his place in the closet doorway, running a paw idly over his massive, afro wig. He leaned a little further into the small space, rifling through his fellow Elder's clothes with cool deliberation. "His name's Cuddles, by the way. ... now where's that nice shirt Salinye made you?" The ranger went stock-still, his struggles with the cloying whatever-it-was instantly dwarfed. "No. Absolutely not!" He tried to walk forward again, only to smack his poor, bruised shin once more on the little stand Wyvern had pushed in his way. "You can't have that! You'll ruin it in about two seconds, and Salinye will kill me for it. Borrow anything else you want, just not th--" "Oh, here it is," Wyvie interrupted cheerfully, gently disengaging the tunic from its hanger. He didn't even seem to notice Gyr's growing panic, intent as he was on trying to fit his massive bulk into the less-massive piece of clothing. Though he managed to get it on without ripping it, he frowned at his reflection in the long mirror on the wall, muttering, "I thought it would be a little looser..." The ranger growled from across the room, finally managing to pry the clingy little 'Cuddles' away from one eye. "Take it off right now, and I promise not to hurt you. Much." With an angry kick, he shoved away the table that'd thwarted him before and snatched his katana from its resting place by his bed. Wyvern gulped and shuffled towards the door, keeping his beady eyes trained on the irate swordsman's rather lethal-looking blade. His first attempt to speak came out as nothing more than a squeak, so he cleared the ashes from his throat and tried again. "N-Now, Gyr... you know I wouldn't bother you at this hour if it weren't an emergency. I'll just take this and be out of your hair so you can get back to your... um... r-rest." With that, the overgrown lizard turned and sprinted for the door, skidding out into the hall with a little yelp. Gyr followed for about ten paces before he gave up any hope of saving the shirt. With a dejected sigh, he yanked the unidentifiable creature the rest of the way off his head and watched it wrap its filmy body around his hand, instead. "Well, Cuddles, I guess we'd better start planning what to tell Salinye when he brings her gift back ruined." Visions of flashing blue eyes and flying spells had him pondering his defenses as he wandered back to his quarters. "... I wonder if you're fireball-proof," he asked his new 'glove' without much hope, pulling the door closed behind him.

- 11:15pm - The next night... Wyvern shuffled down the hallway of the Pen Keep, rubbing one curled paw against his gritty eyes and cursing the Honest Abe Debt Collection Service's latest idea of using tear gas grenades to try to slow him down. Apparently, they didn't know that he could run quite well through nearly any physical discomfort when geld was involved. It was a talent to be proud of, for sure. Casting a last, furtive glance over his shoulder to reassure himself that he'd lost his angry pursuers, the scaly schemer turned down a side-corridor and lengthened his strides, his claws clicking on the marble floor. It was late, and a day full of felonies and frantic flights had left him pleasantly tired. As he began the familiar walk to his quarters, he rubbed his paws together in anticipation of curling up in bed (or wherever he could find space in his disastrous quarters) and sleeping until at least noon. Melba would never find her way out of the bear trap he'd hidden under her desk before then, and these days, Xanthus was too weak from hunger to successfully escape from the Recruiter's Office. Pausing for an instant, Wyvie laid a thoughtful claw against the side of his nose and pondered whether he should be worried that the captive recruit didn't even bother to curse at him when he came in the office... But after about a half-second worrying, he shrugged and continued on his way, dismissing the thought with a mumbled, "Ozy'll cave before he croaks, I'm sure..." The very idea distracted him immediately with images of diving into the swimming pool full of geld that was one of his demands, and he hissed a little snicker, rubbing his greedy palms together. In fact, the almost-draconic Elder was so distracted by his daydreams that he had unlocked the door to his quarters and waded halfway to his bed through the mess by the time he realized that he'd seen a note tacked to his doorframe. He blinked, ignoring an ominous crash behind him as he turned back towards the door, his curiosity stronger than his fatigue. Wyvern tumbled head-first into the hallway, yanking his foot away from what was either last month's pork-rind-and-spam yogurt treat or a ravenous were-beast trying to eat him from the toes up and grabbing the mysterious note on the way down. With the blunt back of his tail, he slammed the door shut before a pile of crumbled scheme plans could collapse into the corridor after him, his greedy gaze already riveted to the neat little paper in his paws. It smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and his name was scrawled across its face in what could only be a woman's flowing handwriting. To the overgrown gecko's hyperactive imagination, that left only one conclusion. "It's a love letter! I knew I was irresistible!" As he absently scrambled back to his feet, Wyvern whooped aloud. The excited Elder lifted a shaking paw and used his fore-claw to slit the seal, squinting at the sparse writing revealed on the inside. Wyvern read the rather imperative and very anonymous missive at least three times before he let loose a gleeful cackle, rubbing the page lovingly against the sandpaper surface of his crimson cheek. A secret admirer! His mind filled with images of buxom, bikini-clad babes waving and calling out to him, their pouty lips moving in slow motion as they all held out bags full of geld and begged him to "pick me! pick me!" Smiling dreamily, he practically floated back through the door to his quarters, unperturbed by the ravenous, self-aware snack food that latched onto his ankle with moldy, green teeth. Ten minutes later, he was staring at a closet full of garish Hawaiian print shirts and contemplating whether he had enough time to sneak into Gyrfalcon's room and 'borrow' that nice dress tunic that Salinye had embroidered. ... the half-elf probably wouldn't mind. Much.

Heaven forbid! I see a blanket in the list, there... Sorry about that. It -was- 3 in the morning, after all.

Thanks very much, both of you. It's been a great day made only better by your good wishes and kind words. Thank you! ~Yui

By the wee hours of the morning, Yui sat quietly at her desk, feeling far younger than the candles on her cake proclaimed her to be despite being utterly exhausted. Her own special Black Friday had begun with well-wishes, wonderful gifts and treasured friends and progressed through a beautiful, sun-speckled afternoon of mayhem and madness. Metal-and-wood dragons. Talkative woodland creatures. Dancing aliens and sparkling fireworks. In the strange land to which Aegon and Thinas had hijacked her, such marvels were commonplace and expected. Much food and fun later, after the fifth stomach-churning ride of loop-de-loops and nosedives on one of the dragons, she still knew that she preferred the nice, stable Mighty Couch, but that she'd always treasure a kidnapped afternoon of life-threatening danger and excitement. (Besides, even if she hadn't had a wonderful time, she'd have to remember it all for the new stories she'd weaseled out of Thinas. Blackmail material is always good. ) With a little laugh, Yui leaned back in her chair and smiled at nothing, staring at the dark ceiling of her room. Another year down, she thought, stretching the kinks out of her tired muscles, and another amazing birthday to cherish. I wonder if they all know how well they spoil me? My friends have managed to make this such a special day... Standing, she slipped over to the bed and reverently set the beautiful scabbard, shadow-blanket, soft cloak and Wyvern's (probably purloined) book on the chair next to the freshly-arranged vase full of luminescent moon flowers. With a smile of utter contentment still on her lips, she leaned over to blow out the candle before crawling under the sheets to enjoy the kind of sleep that only happiness brings. _______ Thanks so much for the birthday wishes, everyone! I really appreciate your thoughts and great gifts and words, and it all serves to remind me how lucky and grateful I am to know each and every one of you. Here's hoping that your Friday has been at least as enjoyable as mine. :wizzie: All the best, ~Yui

Black can be such a comforting color. I've gotten used to celebrating through it. Happy Friday, everyone. Yours, ~Yui