Yui-chan

(7) The Face of the Enemy ________________________ The four men huddled around the fire, their eyes fixed on the cooking beast held between them. In another time and situation, Adreina would have found the wolfish looks in their eyes quite amusing, but as it was, she was too distracted by the painful cramping of her stomach as the scent of food carried to her on the cold, night air. The Hunter's party was clearly hungry in that obsessive way that only men can be, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in the Toi's gut, the one that spoke very eloquently about how many days it had been since she'd had more than a few scraps stolen from Fergal's dogs. Ignore the hunger, she told herself, biting her lip, Concentrate on something else, on the faces of these foreigners who control your life. The young woman nodded to herself, raising her gaze determinedly. The pain subsided, though whether it was the cramps stopping or her will forcing the sensations down, she couldn't be sure. She didn't reflect on it, though, instead gazing into the ring of light around the campfire. Her eyes settled on the man facing her, the skinny one, and she bit her lip, trying to remember what he was called. Craedi. The strange name came to her in the smooth tones of Djaz' voice, complete with the stuttering roll of the 'r'. He was a relatively small figure, stickish and short with a shock of grey-white hair that was short and badly cut. It prickled out every which way, making him look wild and unruly as his blue eyes darted around the faces of his companions. He was clearly rather elderly, his face deeply lined and sagging slightly as if his skin had grown too big for his bones. It gave him a dour, angry look until he broke out into a big smile at something one of the others had said and his entire countenance lit up. He leaned over, mumbling something to the man on his right. That one was Thom, Adreina recalled, the man who'd gone to 'scout' - whatever that was. He was much younger than Craedi and taller as well, adding at least another head's length to the elder's height. His eyes were blue as well, though even in the colored light from the fire, it was clear that they were a darker, less intense hue. He had a long, straight nose and a jutting brow that gave him a hawkish look, an effect made only stronger by the sandy-brown hair that swept back behind his ears and the contour of his receding hairline. The man was clearly strong, his shoulders too broad to not have the added weight of muscle on them, but he wasn't the kind of hulking brute that Elvigar had been, nor even of the same evident power as the man who sat opposite him. Pel. Or was it Pellorin? Adreina had been confused by the fact that Djaz had called him both over the course of the conversation. She saw no sense in addressing him by something other than the soul-mark name his parents had given him. Whatever he was called, though, he was a hulk compared to his companions, taller and broader in every dimension. His eyes looked orange in the firelight, and the young woman accepted that at face value. The northerners were very different from her own people, and so it was entirely possible that such an odd color was commonplace among their kind. His hair, though, was slightly more familiar, a color so dark even in the well-lit campsite that it could only be purest black, like hers. Unlike hers, however, his was stick-straight, and here and there it looked like bits of stone or beads had been woven into half-buried braids that fell far longer than the rest, carrying on past his shoulders to the middle of his back. Metal glinted on the ends of those braids when he moved, but she couldn't see the reason why in the shadows, no matter how she shifted. Pellorin foiled her even more as he leaned forward to poke the skewer closer to the flames. His shadow fell across her, then, and cut off the light as well as part of the warmth. Adreina frowned and squirmed, pulling on her tether as she tried to stretch into a nearby patch of light, but it was frustratingly far away, and she was inhibited as much by her own stiff joints and shivering muscles as by the ropes. "All right. That's enough of that." She jumped at the sudden sound, glancing up from her efforts to see the Hunter, Djaz, stalking towards her, a threatening silhouette against the fire's glow behind him. The little woman scrambled back, seeing anger in his gait and the set of his shoulders. "I told you to sit still, didn't I?" She stared at him quietly, purposefully not indicating whether she understood his words or not; she hoped if she didn't provoke him further, he'd just go back to his fire and leave her be. Instead, he stopped a half-step away and stared down at her, his hands planted on his hips. Adreina lowered her eyes and fought to control the shivers that skittered across her body constantly; his gaze made her feel so self-conscious, as if everything he saw when he looked at her was wrong. She had no idea why that should bother her, but it undeniably did. Just leave me alone, she thought with a tinge of annoyance, feeling the weight of his attention as a physical thing. Go back to your warm campfire and your heathen friends. His hand darted out, then, and she cringed back, bracing herself for a blow. Could he have somehow heard her vindictive thoughts? The young man did touch her face, but not with the violence she'd expected, instead laying the back of his hand across her cheek with surprising gentleness. He held it there for a heartbeat before he straightened, the shadows hiding his frown. "Just as I thought; you're freezing cold." As if her body temperature existed just to vex him, he exhaled a long-suffering sigh, leaning over her to untie the knot that bound her to the boulder. She barely had time to stumble to her feet before he was tugging on the line, drawing her towards the lovely, warm and bright fire. Adreina was so surprised and relieved that she didn't even notice when he shoved her a bit roughly to her knees; she sat obediently, absorbed in the pure pleasure that radiated from the fire. After a few seconds, she even skittered closer, pride be damned, feeling her frozen blood start to flow once more. The other men stared at Djaz in something akin to shock, paused in the act of dividing up the meat they'd cooked. "What?" the Hunter growled, folding his arms across his chest and fixing them with his most fearsome scowl. "We just weren't expectin' you to be that kind. I don't remember you ever sharin' the fire with a prey, let alone a Toi one an' all." The woman glanced up at Pellorin as he spoke, noticing for the first time how much darker his skin was than that of his companions. His eyes met hers, and she turned her face away, embarrassed to have been caught staring. "Don't even start thinking it, you three." The young leader seemed a bit out-of-sorts. "She was verging on hypothermic, and I can't exactly turn in dead prey to the collectors. Maybe you perverts want to lie in your skivvies on a cold night with a frozen Toi wench to keep her alive, but me, I'd rather just let her share my fire than have to get that close. Unless I have a volunteer to save her from the icy death?" He smiled at his companions, an expression that opposed the annoyance in his eyes, and they all took the cue to let it be. Even Adreina dropped her eyes from his for a time, but in the end, curiosity gave her the courage to look back up and examine him as he ate his dinner. Here was the first and last man of the group and probably the youngest of them all. Djaz. She'd already seen his violet eyes, but now they settled into the context of his pleasing face, enhancing his high brow and slightly bent nose. His hair was a gleaming golden-brown, too dark to be labeled as blonde, but too brilliant with fire-streaked highlights to be anything as mundane as brown. He kept it long on top and short at the nape of his neck, so that it brushed his ears but didn't reach his collar except at the back of his head, where one thin section had been allowed to grow far longer than the rest similar to the braids in Pellorin's mane. Unlike his friend, however, Djaz kept his lock simply tied back in an unadorned queue that ended between his shoulder blades. She stared, wondering if there was some significance to the style - until she looked up to find him glaring at her. The young woman quickly dropped her gaze, her cheeks flaming. It was time to find something else to think about. Within a few short minutes, the men had all finished their meal and started to settle down for the few hours that remained of the night. Adreina was firmly bound to Djaz' wrist, again, but she considered that a gift compared to being dragged back out to the cold stone on the edge of the campsite. The frigid weather ate at her so much that she was beginning to thing she'd do anything if only she could stay close to the fire. "Look 'ere," a deep, soft voice interrupted her musings, and she turned her head to find a dark hand holding a chunk of meat out towards her. She raised wide eyes to Pellorin's face, surprised beyond thought. He smiled - actually smiled! - at her, and nodded. "You're small enough as it is, mite. 'Avin' some o' this will 'elp with the cold tomorrow. Take." The woman lifted her hand as if mesmerized, stuck in something akin to awe at the unexpected kindness, and Pellorin pressed the food into her palm, nodding again to make sure she could understand through the language barrier. Adreina closed her hand around the treasure he'd given her, and fought to get her tired mind around his actions. The Hunter bringing her to the fire could be explained by the danger of the cold, but this... There was true kindness in the northerner's eyes, a kindness that everything she knew told her was impossible, yet there it was. The only explanation was that it couldn't be selfless; he must want something from her. What will be the price for this later? she asked herself, glancing down at the food. Do I even care? Does it even matter? Her stomach answered for her, and she lifted it to her mouth. Pellorin nodded yet again and flashed her a smile before turning away to seek his blanket. She paused, considered, and then reached out to catch his sleeve before he could get too far. Her touch halted him just long enough for him to catch the word she whispered breathlessly at his back, and the big man glanced over his shoulder in surprise. The Kohlanmer and the Toi shared a little smile, and he chuckled to himself as he whispered back, "You're welcome, mite."

Great work, Xaious. I love the dichotomy of the weapons around her waist and the whimsical look and flower in her hand. Thanks so much for contributing! Who're you doing, next? Thanks, ~Yui

You haven't asked for nitpicks, so I won't nitpick, though I do notice a handful of punctuation errors scattered throughout (mostly, missing commas). As for overall, I agree with the others that the sparse writing style and blunt approach is very effective in this short story. I can understand that you might feel like it's a little bare-bones, but that's exactly what makes it gritty and realistic enough to be evocative. Flowery language takes the edge of modern-day reality off of a piece, and you definitely want this to be edgy. Also, I agree that the ending works. The only thing that I might change is the last telephone number. It feels a little too abrupt to me in terms of flow, so I think you might want to consider just dropping that line right off. I would have thought she would pause, reflect, take a moment to deal with the disappointment and excitement both of having spoken to him. The phone number being there makes it seem like she just ... plowed on through to the next, and I get this feeling as if that act would cheapen the experience that is the basis of the story. Perhaps that's what you're going for, though? Anyway, this really is refreshingly written and enjoyable. It's a real challenge to engage your audience with very few words, yet here you have us all caught. Well done. Two cents from, ~Yui

An idea isn't at fault for what comes of out trying to implement it, Rune, nor is the person who offers it. If we all believed that, then it would never be worth the risk to put forth a new idea or make a simple suggestion. Don't blame yourself for what others stir up. Besides, the Guilds are teaching us all some important lessons. 'Harm' in the form of hard feelings may happen now and again, but as we work through those issues and learn how to deal with them and still create a successful system, we are improving both ourselves and our organization. They are a blessing to the Pen. Don't you worry. Now, to both you and Ozy, I say: No more of that silly stuff. We don't pin blame on individuals, here. We work together, talk together, write together and learn together, and when we take blame, we take it as a group or not at all. Two cents, ~Yui

I'm sorry for the lack of response, Katz. If you extend the time a little longer, I'll promise you a response, however that still doesn't solve your problem, as I'm not a guild member, either. Yours, ~Yui

Zadown-san, I've done some more thinking, and I have a little suggestion that you can take or leave. I think perhaps you have an acceptable ending to Flux if you just add a paragraph or two to the end, bringing Sherishen back into it and revealing the Dreamer as a captive of her circle. The switch, there, from weak human and strong Planewalker to strong human and captive Planewalker draws Sherishen back around in the plot and gives her a purpose while putting a nice cap on the story. It's a natural lull as opposed to the high cliffhanger you've got currently. I've looked over Purgatory's beginning and I think the time you skipped between the stories might be the key. If you can just extend the end of Flux a few more minutes in time, perhaps give at least enough for the reader to know that the Dreamer has now become Sherishen's patient captive, it should be enough to give the sense of completion that the tale needs. Perhaps you could even word it such that it's not certain whether Sherishen is rescuing him or capturing him... after all, their earlier dealings were very amenable. Either is a possibility from the reader's perspective... Your audience just needs to feel that the moment has become quiet and the danger is past. I think perhaps that could do it for you... Anyway, one idea among many... Good luck! It'll all be worth all the work when you see your story in the magazine. Yours, ~Yui

Gah! ... I can't decide whether to be really pleased that you're writing it, alarmed by the mental image of the Dreamer's grin, or horrified for the sake of the child. @_@ Thanks, Zadown. This is definitely going to be an interesting tale... *sets up the perpetual poking machine to ensure multiple timely updates in the 'Ward' story* Yours, ~Yui

Poor Zadown. You've waited so patiently for a little bit of feedback on this story... I'm sorry it's taken me so long to put something together for you! I think Flux is fun and well-written. I've tried to reread it from the perspective of someone new to the Dreamer who is reading a standalone story, and so I'll tailor my comments to those particular perspectives. The story begins well by itself - a mysterious being doing mysterious, magical things in a mysterious place. There's just enough information and explanation to help me understand what's going on while still leaving a lot of enticing details to be explained. From there, it moves into action by way of detailing a little more about how this powerful creature operates and thinks. Sherishen is a good touch, as she demonstrates the ways in which he is different from a standard mortal. The Runelord is a good touch, as he does the opposite, showing that as powerful as he is, the Dreamer still has to struggle. There are a lot of references to previous trips to the Castle of the Birds that I don't get, though. Since they are just detailed enough to be enticing, I find myself wishing for either a follow-on story or some sort of flashback to explain to me why this Dreamer creature has come to the Castle before and just what he has to do with the chained Seer. At first, I can't decide if I'm annoyed or intrigued, but when the blades start flying with the Runelord, I decide that this story is good enough that I forgive you either way. By the time I reach the end, I'm wondering just what kind of being can take that much damage and still stand! Once again, you've reinforced the fact that the Dreamer is anything but human, and it begs the question of just how much damage is too much. What would it take to kill him? And then... "You?!" ... What? That's it? You who? Who's 'you'? @_@ Ack. I dunno if that's in your plan, but you just can't end a standalone story there, lest your adoring fans come and throttle you with their bare hands! I'm really not sure I can suggest a good way to cap this off at the endpoint of Flux, but I do think that (unless you're after a serial publication deal), it needs a little bit more resolution. The Runelord isn't dead. The Dreamer has disappeared to who-knows-where. Sherishen blinked in and out of the story and hasn't yet come full-circle around to having had an actual purpose in the plotline. Somehow, these loose ends need tied up or at least somehow woven together before I can quite declare this a story that's capable of supporting itself. That said, you know I love Flux in its place within the larger Dreamer saga. If you can get a serial deal, all of these stories are paced and written with that perfect cliffhanger-ending mentality. They'd be great for that. Now, I hope some of that helped. It wasn't easy for me to read with the perspective of a newbie to the Dreamer's world, so I might have come to some wrong conclusions. I'd recommend that you find someone who doesn't know anything about the Dreamer and hasn't read any of your other works and ask him/her to give you some impressions. It's a great story as you designed it, but the challenge now is going to be tailoring it to stand alone as a short. Two Cents From, ~Yui

I'm not sure if that means I'm smart or dumb, but after looking at it three different times, today, I finally got it. I shan't give up the answer, though! ... unless you want it. Then, you can PM me. I'll also give clues, so even if you don't want it given away for you, I can try to hint you in the right direction. Yours, ~Yui

Issue (6) Pieces of the Puzzle is available. Enjoy! ...? ~Yui

(6) Pieces of the Puzzle ____________________ By the time the man called Djaz ordered a halt for the night, Adreina was shivering uncontrollably, her bound wrists folded up against her chin in an attempt to wrap her arms around herself. It was no more effective now than it had been weeks ago, when she'd been traveling alone from the Guardians to that tavern, and her spirits plummeted at the idea of who-knew-how-many days of that kind of misery. Of all the enemies in the north, the cold was quickly becoming the one she feared and hated the most. Next to that, the ropes chafing her wrists and the incessant chatter of the two men in front of her were nothing more than annoyances. When they paused to scout around a jumble of boulders that protruded from the smooth ground, she followed silently, listening and watching as they verified that the area was safe and relatively well-protected from prying eyes. The men seemed to find it very important to keep commoners from seeing her, though the young woman didn't really understand why. They'd already taken a couple of ... creative detours away from late-night travelers and a small settlement. She had spent a considerable amount of time pondering why they might not want her seen, but thus far she had only come up with reasons that couldn't be right. They'd bound her hands, so of course they couldn't be worried that she would use magic against their citizens; they undoubtedly knew that there was no way to cast without using the gestures. Similarly, it couldn't be that they feared citizens might try to help free her; that the Kohlanmer commoners hated her people was made undeniably clear by the reactions of the citizens in the tavern. Why, then? Adreina shook her head, still unable to come up with a reasonable answer. "Come here." The voice broke her from her reverie, and she raised her silver gaze towards her captor. When she didn't move immediately, he gave the tether an ungentle yank, forcing her to stumble the few steps towards him. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment as she struggled to regain her balance, feeling clumsy and awkward. It was such an uncomfortable and unaccustomed feeling, this stiff, half-frozen gracelessness that had come over her, and she was ashamed that she could no longer seem to make her body demonstrate the Toi fluidity that she was so proud of. When she finally got up the courage to raise her eyes once more, Djaz was staring at her intently, his face deeply shadowed by the younger moon hanging low on the horizon behind him. She stared back, puzzled by his silent regard, but her attempts to see any details in his expression were frustrated by the night. She had yet to get a chance to view her captor clearly, too overwhelmed in the tavern to take advantage of the light and too blinded by the darkness since. All she could remember were flashes of impossible, violet eyes and an angry, square jaw, both of which she imagined were set towards her at that moment. The man stared at her so long that she started to wonder what the moonlight revealed, shifting self-consciously. Adreina could feel her shoulder-length hair curling riotously around her head, a stubborn lock tickling her cheek. It was dirty, she knew, matted and oily and coated with the grime of months, just as the rest of her was. Her stolen tunic was also ripped and frayed around the hem and sleeves and fit her poorly, too long and too wide by half. She'd been constantly rolling and re-rolling the long sleeves before tonight, but now the tight ropes that bound her wrists were holding them up and away from her hands. It was something of a bright side, if a pathetic one. She sighed and looked down at the strange, loose breeches that she'd taken for her legs and the stiff shoes that were tearing away at her feet, accepting the truth. There really were no meaningful bright sides. "Feeling sorry for yourself, princess?" Djaz sneered, turning away from his examination of her to lash her tether through a water-worn hole in the boulder beside him. She glanced up in surprise, his words echoing her own stern thoughts. "Yeah, I noticed. It's kinda hard to miss when those freakish eyes of yours go all sad and flashy. Don't expect sympathy from us, though. You should have stayed on your own side of the mountains, and that's all there is to it." For one, brief moment, Adreina considered speaking up, considered telling him about how little he truly knew, but she knew better than to try. Even if her limited mastery of his language was enough for her to convey her thoughts, he would not care. He'd told her not to expect sympathy, and she most definitely did not intend to. She wasn't that foolish. The young Toi simply watched his back as he worked, distracting herself by watching the flex of his shoulders beneath his course tunic. When the man turned back towards her, he reached out, grabbing her elbow in a firm grip. "Sit here. Don't get up, and we won't have any problems," he growled, pulling her up against the cold stone. She shivered more violently at its touch, trying to edge away from the heat-leaching surface, but he pinned her against it despite her resistance. She couldn't even hope to compete with his strength on a good day, let alone when she was hungry, weak and half-frozen. The moonlight shone on his face as he stepped to the side, and she watched his frown darken, noting absently that his eyes were, indeed, violet. "I said sit!" He pulled, and his strength threatened to pull her over if she didn't fold her knees, crouching down onto the cold ground. More of her precious heat leached away at the touch of the dirt, and the tether pulled her hands up against her cheek. It wasn't long enough to let her sit with her arms in her lap. She should have guessed. Adreina sighed miserably as the northerner turned away, curling her legs up to try to warm her core. She was getting very tired, so she rested her head against her bindings, watching listlessly as Djaz rummaged around in a pack that the other man had left on the ground. Craedi had gone off somewhere or other almost as soon as they'd stopped, mumbling something to her captor that she hadn't heard. She let herself spend a moment spitefully hoping that the lecherous man got himself eaten by something before chastising herself for the unworthy thought. Spite and vengeance are two of the obstacles on the path to Redemption, she reminded herself, quoting the strictures she'd had ingrained in her from infancy. The faithful will not succumb to their lures. Taking comfort from the fact that she was clinging to her ideals despite her current trial, Adreina nodded to herself and rested her head back against the boulder. No matter what the Kohlanmer tried to put her through, her strength came from the great god and His righteous teachings. If she stayed true to Him, held tight to the belief that He would do His will through her, she knew that she would have the courage to face anything. This nightmarish journey could not truly destroy her as long as she remembered her faith... The little Toi nodded to herself, fighting off another fit of violent shivers as the man who had traveled with them returned around the edge of the boulder, his arms full of sticks and twigs to use as firewood. She found herself leaning forward, anticipating warmth as he crouched down and started to arrange the wood into a pile on top of a flat stone off to one side of the little sheltered area. He was disappointingly far away, but the young woman figured that any heat would be a blessing compared to none. As the tinder caught and brightened, she scooted sideways along her boulder, stretching the tether to get as close to the fire as possible, absorbed by watching the hiss and flicker as the flames grew. The other two men returned soon after, just as the outer reaches of the warm area around the campfire had started to expand enough to touch her icy skin. They'd caught some sort of creature and skinned it, and now the big one, Pel, was spitting it on a sharpened stick. The men must have been tired, for their earlier banter was gone, replaced by one-word answers and grunts when they bothered to speak at all. Most of their conversation was in such hushed tones that she couldn't make out what they said, but she heard that place name, Devonswyrd, a few more times as they all watched the meat brown in the fire. Adreina strained closer to the fleeting warmth, glad for the golden light that glowed off the tall boulders that ringed their campsite. She was still left shivering and in the relative dark, but for the first time, she was able to catch a glimpse of the men who held her.

I agree. ChibiWyv is just adorable. I love that smarmy grin of his, Alzorath! I can just see the geld-making scheme growing in his thoughts. Great work. Who're you going to make next? Thanks, everyone, for all the nice comments on Salinye and Gyrfalcon. I'm really pleased with them both, so I'm glad that you all like how they turned out. Thanks for being so supportive! Yours, ~Yui

Aegon's insulted. He says he wanted to be an 'O'... ... then again, when I mention that the X's won, he changes his tune very quickly. Pft. ~Yui

Yui rejoices, for Salinye is back!

(5) Rendezvous ________________ Djaz trudged along purposefully, his booted feet crunching on the half-frozen grass as he walked. Around him, the night was dark and brittle with cold, the moons Dor and Fiya little more than thin slivers of weak, silver light in the sky; and the plains stretched flat and featureless on either side of the dirt track. Only a shadowy copse of low trees broke the line of the horizon, and he watched them grow nearer with tangible anticipation, his thoughts on a warm fire and a good night's sleep. Of course, with his captive in tow, he knew better than to hope for the latter. He never slept well with enemies nearby. He slanted a glance over his shoulder at the acquiescent little woman shuffling along behind him, grimacing in the darkness. She hadn't said a word, yet, not in the tavern and not in the short while they'd been walking, keeping her eyes mostly downcast, but that didn't reassure him in any way. In fact, it made him more wary and nervous; he could practically feel her mind buzzing, feel the intense thought and reflection hidden behind that humble demeanor. Though he wished fervently that he could read what she was contemplating, he'd discovered already that her strange, silvery eyes were utterly unreadable, even to his experienced eye. Whatever she felt now, it was locked tight behind a surface of utter calm and quiet acceptance that he trusted only as a dangerous illusion. The woman was closed, and Djaz didn't like it one little bit. With a frown, he gripped the rope tying her to his wrist tighter and forced his eyes back to the path. He'd have to work at her, chip away at the implacable defense she'd adopted, before he could get any information, but there wasn't much time. The trip to Devonswyrd would take three days - four, if he made sure they traveled slowly. That wasn't much time to mount a mental offensive, but he found himself looking forward to the challenge. It kept life interesting. After all, victory was only sweet when he had to earn it. A part of him hoped she'd be up to the challenge. Djaz' musings were cut off as they stepped into the deeper shadows beneath the small stand of trees. "Hey, honey. I'm home," he whispered, a mischievous glint joining the moonlight in his eyes. "May the Land Spirit 'ave mercy on me," answered a familiar voice from the darkness nearby, a sound that caused the woman behind him to jump nervously, "If you were my wife, Djaz, I'd 'ave to pray that 'e opens up and swallows me whole, I would!" Djaz laughed, watching the hulking silhouette of his partner step out from behind a tree trunk. "I'd be pretty upset to find you in my bed, too, Pel. The others?" "I'm sure they saw ya approachin'," the bigger man shrugged, leaning his back against the tree. "They'll be back in two shakes." His gaze was on the indistinct form behind Djaz. "So, this is the 'igh-and-mighty southerner we been after, then?" The Hunter glanced back to his charge, nodding in the dark. "Yep. This is her." She was watching them both openly, her eyes liquid silver in the ray of moonlight that slanted across her face from a gap in the leaves. He pondered for a moment, calculating what it was she would see of them in the sparse light beneath the trees, but as he glanced over at the man beside him, he decided that it would be preciously little. Even from this close, Pel was little more than a shadow among shadows, his face and features completely obscured. Djaz smirked to himself, quite certain that the lack of information was only adding to the woman's apprehension. Keeping a prey off-balance had never been so easy. Pellorin looked Adreina up and down before turning back to Djaz with a raised a brow and a skeptical frown. "She's a mite small, ain't she?" The younger man laughed, giving a tug on the rope that connected them. Adreina was forced to step forward into a brighter patch of light, her cheeks burning at the other man's words. "She's not a fish, Pel. I don't think it's size that matters in their case." "Well, it seems not, since this little'un gave us such a merry chase. I think I'm forgettin' what it feels like to sleep in a decent bed, we been after 'er for so long." "Bah." Djaz snorted, pulling his eyes off his charge to regard his friend. "Suffering builds character, old man. Besides, I'm sure your wife'll be real happy to remind you once we get home." This time it was Pellorin's turn to chuckle, the sound a deep rumble. "Oh, I'm sure hopin' so, Djaz. Make no mistake about that." He winked and clapped a hand on the Hunter's shoulder, his smile bright against the darkness around him. "D'ye think ye're makin' enough noise, ye pair 'o lackwits?" Another voice hissed out of the night, again making Adreina jump. She edged closer to Djaz, a move that left the young man frowning in puzzlement. "Yeah. I could'a found you two with my eyes shut tight, chattering away like a pair of wenches on washing day." Two more men melted out of the night to be met by smiles from Djaz and Pellorin. "Mf. Consider us 'wenches' properly chastened." The Hunter was non-plussed, his eyes going from one newcomer to the other. They, too, were rendered two-dimensional by the darkness, one a stick-thin shadow of average height and the other slightly taller and sporting the fine lines of a lithe and muscular male body. "Anything to report?" "Nah," the skinny man on the left shrugged, brushing a hand through his wild hair. "The tavern stayed quiet after ye left, lad. They didn't know what to make o' someone takin' the bruiser down like that." "Speakin' of which, did you break your hand, again?" The fourth man, similar in size and shape to Djaz, found himself fixed with a dead-eyed glare and grinned good-naturedly in defense. "My hand's fine, Thom. D'you want a demonstration?" The young man smirked and waved a fist threateningly at his subordinate, earning a chuckle and a quick step back from the other man. "I'll take your word for it, boss." The others joined in a moment of quiet laughter, carefully oblivious of the woman who stood silently among them. Only Djaz slanted a glance her way; watching her as she observed them all. Once again, he was sure he could see her thoughts whirling behind her eyes, and it made his brow crease speculatively. He sobered, his expression all-business suddenly. "Let's put some more distance between us and the town, then we'll get some shut-eye for the night. Thom, Pellorin, you two take the scout slots. Craedi, you're my backup. You all know what to do if you hear or see something." They each nodded as he looked at them, their expressions intent. "We'll keep any citizens well away from you and 'er, Djaz. You just keep 'er under control an' watch your back." Pel tilted his head at their captive, his eyes hard. Despite his words earlier, he knew better than to underestimate any prey, no matter how small. Djaz nodded back, his face breaking into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If she tries anything, I'll just charm her back in line. She's a woman, after all." "Aye. Sure, sure." Craedi rolled his eyes, the thin man stepping up beside Adreina. He looked her over in a way that was designed to make her very self-conscious, and it worked. She edged away from him to the limits of her tether, earning herself a wolfish smile. "I'm doubtin' she'd be susceptible to ye're wiles, Djaz. Seriously doubtin'." The younger man smirked and muttered, "Oh, ye of little faith." He then gestured with his free hand. "Let's go, gents. The longer we wait, the less beauty rest I'll get tonight." "Oh, now there's something you don't need to be skimpin' on, sure 'nough," Pellorin observed with a dry chuckle. "Let's bugger off, Thom, an' the sooner, the better." With his usual deceptive grace, the big man faded off into the night, followed by his grinning companion. Djaz watched them go with a roll of his eyes and a mumbled, "Your momma didn't have many complaints about my looks, you old goat," that had Craedi beside him biting his lip to keep from laughing. Luckily, Pel didn't quite catch his witty retort. With a self-satisfied grin and a tug of the rope, Djaz turned and set off towards the north, leading his teammate and his young captive back out onto the brittle plains.

Yui completely skips the entire point of the thread to GLORMP Salinye! Sali-chan! {Edit to do credit to the project: To be overwhelmed is to return to a place you love after too long gone and find that it hasn't stopped while you were away. It is to find a hundred new gems waiting for you there and to put your hand into the pile only to feel the sting of the dozen black blades mixed in because of the fallibility of humanity. To be overwhelmed is to come home uncertain, and it is best countered by a smiling face and unconditional welcome. 'Lost' is the feeling you get when you can feel another's pain and confusion, yet you don't know what causes it or how to save them from it. Lost and helpless often go hand in hand. }

Great job, everyone. This would make a really fun online quiz. Thank you for the Yui-chan writeup, Gwai. It's very her. It's taken me a while, but here's my second little image to accompany the writeups. This one goes with Merelas' great description of Salinye, so without further ado... Everyone's favorite highelven lady: It's been really fun making this one. Thanks for the inspiration, Alaeha! ~Yui

This is very interesting, Appy. I like the way you played with the 'I've been drawn' lines, taking it from something normal to something a little bit morbid. As I was reading through, though, there was one thing in particular that caught me up. The first line in each of the first two stanzas are so similar in meaning that I essentially didn't even catch that they weren't identical, so when I came to the third stanza, I expected that line to be the same. It was only in looking back that I noticed the difference between 'within' and 'inside'. It's kind of distracting to think you're falling into the rhythm of the work and then get jarred out, so I might suggest either somehow making those lines even more diverse in their meanings or just reordering the stanzas to separate them. Just my two cents, of course. I really enjoyed this, so thanks for sharing it with us. Yours, ~Yui

(4) In Anticipation of the Prize ___________________________ He stared down at the mirror surface of the oil, watching with no small amount of pleasure as the two figures melted into the dark night. It was all going according to plan, and as the moment drew nearer and nearer, his excitement grew. With a sharp laugh, he lifted his fingers from the carved symbols on the rim of the scrying pool, allowing the spell to dissolve into the scented air. "Good news, I take it?" His compatriot lifted his wine glass, reclining in his chair at the long, grand table that occupied the center of the room. "Yes," he nodded, moving to take his place at the head of the table. His gaze traveled the length of the board, taking in all five of the men seated around him, and his grin was as dark and dangerous as the look in his ice-pale eyes. "The Hunter and his team have secured our treasure for us, gentlemen. They are headed for the Collections Office in Devonswyrd." "Excellent," came the rumbling reply from the other end of the table. "Well, the Hunter may have it, but that doesn't mean that we do." The tall, thin man to the left of the speaker frowned, idly tapping a ruby ring against his wine goblet. "Can these plebeians be trusted to bypass the official channels and deliver it to us?" He raised his head, gazing up at the head seat. "Probably," the leader replied with that cold smile, indicating a few sheets of vellum spread on the table in front of him. "Our esteemed Hunter is an ambitious man in addition to being a capable one. If the deal were sweet enough, I'm quite sure he'd do as we asked." "Well, then--" "Ah, ah!" He stopped the interruption with a raise of his finger, his rapier-sharp gaze cutting into the other man. "I never deal in 'probably's. I have already dispatched a team of our own men to ... 'liberate'... the prize from this Hunter and his men. Why bargain when we can just eliminate anyone who might know of its disappearance from the system, hm?" To his right, the firelight glinted off crushed blue velvet as his peer shifted in his seat, laughing. The others joined in the mirth, some more enthusiastically than others. For his part, their leader just smiled that same darkling smile and let them enjoy the moment. His keen mind assessed and observed, taking note of the smallest details about his company and filing all the knowledge away for future use. One could never be too careful. "Ah, my lord," the jovial man beside him sucked in a deep breath, his bearded face split into a blinding smile. "Yours is a ruthless mind and a terribly efficient method. I commend you." He raised his glass in a toast, bowing his head with appropriate humility. The others quickly followed suit, their pleasure readily apparent. The man at the head of the table merely nodded, taking a sip of his own drink. He left the response carefully neutral, unwilling to encourage that kind of empty flattery. His suddenly-ardent 'admirer' dropped a notch in his estimation, and he made a mental note to watch him all the more carefully from now on. "Well, then. We'll have our little treasure in a few days." The barrel-chested man at the far end of the table spoke up, his voice rumbling like thunder through the room. "What methods will we employ to ensure that we get what we want of it without destroying it? Have you gained the intelligence you were looking for, Lord?" The leader nodded, his blonde hair glinting red in the firelight. "Yes. I have seen enough to be confident that we have isolated the flaws in the methods we've used in the past. This one is fearful and raw, and it will prove absolutely susceptible to the Bending. I'm quite confident." "And if it doesn't?" For the first time, the figure to the left of the table's head spoke up, his arms folding across his silk-clad chest. The ice-eyed leader frowned, fixing the man with a dangerous glare. "Surely you don't doubt me." It wasn't a question. The room went still as the two men regarded each other, the nay-sayer overly confident about his own worth. He thought hard about how far he could push, but in the end he acquiesced most wisely. "Of course not, my lord. I only meant to ask how much longer we could afford to wait if this one breaks as well. They aren't exactly a common resource." "This one will not break before it's given us the information we need, lad." He snapped from his place at the head of the table, his tone and the degrading form of address making his displeasure unavoidably clear. The other figures around the room went quiet and still, recognizing the danger. The youngest of them, stung by the insult, bit his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret. Instead, he merely nodded humbly and raised his glass to his lips, using it to hide his angry sneer. The silence strung out, shrouding the room as their leader's eyes traveled once more over the table of his peers, looking to see whose sympathies might lie with his young enemy. He marked two names in his head, adding to a growing list of discrepancies. When enough time had passed to have them all sweating in their seats, he spoke up. "We'll reconvene in five days' time. By then, our prize will be secure, and we can begin the process of completing our plans. The rewards are great, gentlemen, so I will expect a sizeable investment from each of you." He was answered with grave nods from around the table, and he stood significantly, dismissing them from his presence. The five men rose from their chairs and quickly, but quietly, made their way through the grand, oaken doors, leaving their leader to stare out the room's magnificent windows at the night and the city below. "Urathiel is going to be a problem." He didn't react to the dulcet tones from behind him, choosing instead to lift his glass of wine once more to his lips. "Shall I arrange for an accident?" "No. I already have a noose about Sir Enric's arrogant, young neck. If he pulls any harder, he will hang himself for me." "I understand. And the others?" The woman was a blur in the smooth glass, a shadow among shadows kneeling on one knee behind him. "Mmm..." He made her wait for his response as he took another leisurely sip of his drink. "Once we see how things stand with the quarry, I may reassess their usefulness, but they continue to serve me ably for now. You need not concern yourself just yet." "Very well. If there is nothing else, I will travel to meet the retrieval team in the morning." He nodded at her reflection, not bothering to turn. "Go get my prize for me, Xelis. I have so many, many plans for her..."

Congratulations, Alaeha. You did a marvellous job on your Quill Quest, and we all hope to continue to get to enjoy your work for a very long time to come. All the best, ~Yui

Huzzah for birthdays! Here's hoping your 21st is a ton of fun. Yui hands Exs a bag of magic corn kernels and some books with interesting titles, such as "32 Ways to Tickle a Cow" and "1001 Hobbies: Survival Guide for the Country Folk". All the best from Aegon and I, Exs. Enjoy! Yours, ~Yui

(3) Victory and Defeat _____________________ "Well, hello there, princess! How nice of you to join us. We were so hoping you'd be sociable." The man’s dry words rang clearly in the sudden silence of the tavern, his smooth, tenor tones very carefully modulated to sound wholeheartedly sincere instead of dripping with the sarcasm that the situation warranted. The figure at his feet squinted and blinked, trying to clear her vision, confusion flickering across her dirt-streaked oval face, and he couldn’t help but smile, a threatening and predatory expression filled with that all-too-male satisfaction over a victory. After six weeks of searching and tracking, the prey was finally his. Ah, and what a docile little prey she was, half-laying there on the floor, her legs curled into her body protectively. Her Toi heritage was given away by the upward tilt of her eyes and the olive tones of her skin, apparent even under weeks of dirt. Her features were softer than anything his race bred, her nose small and dainty, her lips thinner and darker than the lush crescents he was used to. Even her body, evident enough under her ragged tunic and patched trousers, was thin and angular instead of curvaceous and soft as it should have been. Apparently, even their women are designed to deny them any pleasures, the young man noted wryly to himself, his lips twisting. He leaned down closer, taking hold of the Toi’s chin despite her attempt to cringe away from him. She didn’t resist much as he raised her face to his inspection, instead fixing him with a gaze as incriminating as the rest of her features. Her eyes, clear now in the reflected firelight, were an unnatural shade of grey, a bewitching non-color as light as her ragged hair was dark. He lifted a pitch-black strand from where it fell across her forehead, noting with clinical detachment that it wanted to curl around his finger at its end - again, a trait reserved for those religious zealots from south of the Guardians and damning evidence of her guilt. Djaz knew the inevitable outcome of the woman’s situation, and after reading the expression in those pale eyes, he knew that she did as well. She covered it admirably, but he could see the slight tremble in her limbs, the fear dancing across her face. He was calmly waiting for her to make her attempt to run, as they all did, but for now she seemed content to simply return his gaze, submitting to his perusal of her person without resistance. When he realized she wasn’t going to launch into anything amusing, like hysterics or groveling for her misbegotten life, he released her, roughly shoving her chin away to disrupt that disconcerting stare. “Bright Sun!” came the gasped exclamation that finally broke the veil of silence in the room, and Djaz straightened, glancing over his shoulder at the tavern owner’s wife where she stood near the bar. Winelda Chaelsen stared at the dirty girl with saucer-shaped eyes, her round face red enough to make her look as if she was about to fall into an apoplectic fit. Beside her, her husband patted her hand in an absent attempt to comfort her, though he looked as dumbstruck and horrified as she did. The Toi glanced at them as well, and they both stiffened in alarm, habitually making the sign against evil over their hearts. “Fergal, ya poxed wart-hog! You been hidin’ a scrubbin’ Toi in ‘ere, have ya?!” The outraged bellow came from the man-mountain standing by the door, a red-faced miner who looked like he could butcher meat with his bare hands. He turned on the tavern’s portly owner with nothing less than murder in his beady blue eyes. Fergal jumped, utterly shocked by the accusation as much as by the sudden looks from those around him. “It ain’t anythin’ like that, Elvigar! We didn’t know she was there any more’n you lot did! I swear on my honor an’ my tavern!” He practically begged them to believe him with his voice, spreading his arms wide as if to show them his innocence. “Oh, izzat so?” Elvigar stomped towards him, his eyes narrowed to slits. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to buy the other man’s story, having had a few too many ales to over the course of the night that had fed his temper. "Well, what I think izzat yer nuthin' but a swippin' southie-lover. Ya got some o' them earth-forsaken witchy artifacts o' theirs in the back room, do ya?! Setcherself up with an altar ta that black-hearted god o' theirs? HMM?!" "By the deep waters! No!" As if poor Fergal didn’t have enough on his mind with his impending pummeling, his wife chose that moment to heave a great sigh and faint dead away into his arms. He had to stumble around a bit before he could find a neutral resting place for her not-inconsequential weight against his massive belly, all the while watching the man who’d been a friend just five minutes ago contemplate the best way to murder him, the few patrons left in the bar forming up behind him. It was relatively small, but it was definitely a wanna-be mob. Still standing over the huddled form of the young woman, Djaz sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. “That’s enough!” His voice cut through the room like a sword, the command in his tone instantly stopping the drunken miner and his violent friends. Turning towards him, they were all surprised to see a friendly grin on his face. “There's no need to get pissy, friends. Fergal didn’t know the first thing about his little guest, here. Hell, I had a hard time finding her out, myself.” The portly tavern's owner released the breath he’d been holding and thanked the wind god for the young man’s intervention, turning his attention to his swooning wife. Elvigar stared at Djaz, transferring his scowl to a new target. “An’ jes who are ya, anyway, stranger, that we should believe ya. Huh? Ya come draggin’ on in here an’ yank a filthy southerner outta the wall like it ain’t nothin’. Iz you a Hunter or somethin’?” “Yep. I’m a Hunter ‘or somethin’,” the younger man replied with a mocking smile and a slight bow. His eyes, however, stayed hard as he stared challengingly across the room at the miner. “Now, if you good citizens will kindly go about your business, I’ll have this little ‘infestation’ of yours taken care of in no time.” Djaz drew a chord of rope from a pocket in his overshirt, his eyes never leaving Elvigar’s as the brute glanced down at the Toi still curled at his feet. There was the expected hatred in the other man’s gaze, but there was also something more - the kind of drunken courage and self-righteousness that meant trouble. The Hunter stretched out the rope, his senses alert; he wasn’t about to be caught unawares by any one of these country backbreakers. Sure enough, Elvigar decided not to leave well enough alone. “Ya don’t need ta trouble yerself, mister fancy Hunter. Jes give’er to us, an’ we’ll make sure she ain’t no trouble fer no decent folk no more. Right boys?” He turned to the other patrons with a feral grin, buoyed by a rousing chorus of gruff ‘yeah’s from his mates. One meaty fist pounded into the other as his fevered eyes returned to the woman huddled on the floor, and his grin widened threateningly as she blanched and shrank away. Djaz glanced down at her, but this time he didn’t find anything in her alarm amusing. Nobody, not even a southerner stupid enough to cross into the north, deserved to be beaten and tortured in the ways that ignorant miner had in mind. Besides, making her dead wasn't compatible with his mission to return her to the Collectors at Devonswyrd. He pressed his lips together, his temper starting a slow rise, and leaned down to grab a handful of the girl’s tunic and drag her to her feet. The look she shot him as she stood up made it clear that she thought he was going to throw her to the wolves, and for some reason, it only added to his annoyance. From between gritted teeth, he ground out a simple, “That won’t be necessary.” He should have known the ox wouldn’t be smart enough to let it go at that. In two thumping steps Elvigar was beside him, his shadow looming over the young Hunter and his captive. "Now, ya lissen to me -- " A roundhouse punch to the jaw shut the man up very effectively. Elvigar never saw the blow coming. One moment, he was clapping a meaty hand against Djaz' shoulder, and the next, he was dropping to the floor like a lead weight, his eyes rolled up into his head. The entire tavern went dead-still as the rafters shook with the impact, their eyes going first to the fallen Goliath and then to the young man who'd just become the first person ever to take him down. For his part, Djaz didn't seem to care a whit, intent instead on gathering and binding Adreina's wrists with his usual efficiency. In only a few seconds, she was secured tightly, her hands locked in front of her and tethered to a longer piece of rope that Djaz looped around his own wrist. He turned towards the tavern's patrons, his face breaking into a smile that never reached his eyes. "Well, it's been a pleasant visit. Let's hope I don't ever have to make it again. Good night, citizens," he said, his voice as calm and jovial as if he'd just gotten up from his barstool. With a little wave and a tug on the rope, he led the way through the bewildered crowd and out into the cold, moonlit night. ... It wasn't until they were well away from the tavern that Djaz let himself curse and shake out his aching hand.

Far away from the Pen... She ran the brush through her hair one last time, watching in the mirror as the man behind her tucked his best shirt into his leather breeches. "You remember what I told you, love?" "Of course I do," he answered with a smile, meeting that reflected gaze. There was a moment of silence before he realized she was waiting for him to actually recite the list back to her. He raised his brows, letting her know she was being silly, but still he took a deep breath and began ticking off points on his fingers. "First, don't eat or drink anything. Second, stay away from the dance floor..." He paused, regarding her quizzically for a moment. "Why was that, again, hun?" "Because if something's going to burst into flame, ice or other violence, it'll happen on the dance floor. Besides, when evil godlike influences attack, they always start there..." She frowned a little worriedly, carefully arranging her long tresses into a knot of curls and braids. "Keep going, please." With a little smirk, he finished his own preparations and took a step forward to set his hands on her shoulders, amused by her motherly tone. "Right. Third was to always be wary when talking to Wyvern himself. You said something about disgruntled associates and creditors constantly attacking him?" "Exactly," she nodded, deftly plucking and placing pins. "Mmm... and the last one was to ... um..." His handsome face screwed up as he tried to recall her final 'rule', and she watched him through the looking glass, an amused half-smile on her lips. "The last one was the most important, forgetful." "I know. I know..." He pondered for a moment before it came to him, and then he chuckled, knowing suddenly why she might label it most important. "Oh, right. The last one was that I'm not to oogle Tzimfemme or anyone else I might find nekkid during the course of the evening. Although I do think you're being a bit silly, there. I don't oogle anyone but you, Yui." Leaning down, Aegon interrupted his little woman's work to steal a kiss, kneading some of the tension out of her soft shoulders. She'd been nothing short of a nervous wreck since she'd first heard about Wyvern's well-advertised party, and spending the day warding and protecting the library against just about every disaster known to man had only made her worse. Her muscles were bunched like rocks beneath her skin, and as she sat there in her lovely silver-and-green evening gown, he could practically sense her running exhaustively over contingency plans for anything that might go wrong. As if that could actually mitigate the damage of a Wyvern party... Aegon shook his head and turned away to the sideboard. She was far too tense, and he knew her well enough to say that if he didn't find some way to help her relax, she'd never be able to enjoy the party. It was time for drastic measures. A moment later, the swordsman smiled at his pretty lady in the mirror, setting a small glass down in front of her. Yui raised a delicately-arched brow, blinking at the amber liquid. "What's this?" she asked, tucking the last jeweled comb into the intricate knot of her hair. He smiled his most innocent smile, doing a decent job of not looking as devilish as he felt even as he carefully controlled her perceptions of its scent and taste. On some days, it was extremely helpful to be a Master Illusionist. "It's just tea, sweetheart. I thought it might help you relax." The thought earned him a warm smile and a quick peck on the cheek as she rose from her vanity and picked up what she thought was a lukewarm mug. "That's thoughtful of you, but I rather don't think I'll relax until this evening has ended – preferably with the Pen still in one piece..." "Well," he answered, feeling incredibly smug as she took a healthy sip, "maybe a good drink will do more for you than you think." Her mumbled "perhaps" was muffled by the cup as she made quick work of the drink, feeling the passage of time keenly. The party would be in full swing by the time they arrived, and she feared what mischief they had already missed. Aegon knew her thoughts, however, and when she turned to get her cloak, he was already standing there and holding it out for her, his gaze warm. The only question was which he felt more in that moment, care or mischievous glee... **** The Pen Keep... Yui had decided to sidestep the guarded entry long before, but when she saw the length of the line, it only reaffirmed her decision. Not only wasn't she willing to have Aegon hand over any of his undergarments to Tzimfemme or anyone else, but she wasn't willing to wait any longer than necessary to get busy trying to mitigate damage in the party. Waiting in line simply wasn't an option. So, the shadowwalker and her husband emerged from the darkness in one corner of the Conservatory, carefully avoiding startling anyone save the random villager who was huddled against the wall, rocking back and forth as he muttered about tornados and frogs. Aegon blinked at the man and shrugged, drawing Yui away when she would have gone to try to see what he was so upset about. "Leave him be, love," he commanded, taking advantage of the fact that she seemed to be a little less than fully steady on her feet thanks to her low alcohol tolerance and the disguised glass of rum. "Let's go see the Dreamer, shall we?" He hid a grin as her eyes lit up, the frightened man promptly forgotten. "Oh, the Dreamer is here? At a Wyvern party? Goodness... that's either a miracle or a disaster. We'd best say hello..." Yui glanced at the doorway to make certain that they'd slipped in unnoticed by the bouncing team and then led the way to the other wall, careful not to step on the frogs milling about. She suddenly felt a lot more optimistic about the party as a whole...

I'll add my voice in wishing you a happy birthday, Ozy-san. I'm not sure that your age is listed quite right, though... 25 isn't very 'ancient'. >_ Many happy returns, ~Yui

I don't really know what makes a poem a poem if it doesn't rhyme, but I'm hoping that form can do the trick as a substitute. It's the closest thing I've written to what I call 'freeverse' poetry, and truthfully, I doubt I'd ever go closer. I simply don't comprehend the appeal of a poem if there's no challenge of either chosing meter and rhyme to be precisely aligned or designing every piece to match the template of form. Anyway, I've never claimed to know anything about poetry. I just write it. I hope this latest one doesn't sux0r. It didn't come out quite as I'd intended when I started it... Stranger 12 May, 2004 A crowded train on a summer day draws the funneling flow of bodies into an air-conditioned shell, a metal-and-grease cylinder that will drag them off into the day. A hundred forms in that too-small space stare at nothingness through the crush, intent on all-consuming thoughts, on money-and-time ponderings that are born of their worryful lives. However... A chubby man in a chartreuse shirt slips up wordlessly by a woman wearing a too-revealing blouse, a come'ere-and-take confection that would be sweet if only she'd smile. He averts his eyes. She restrains her sighs. They ponder each other with barely a glance between them. That's how... A distant pair on a crowded train shares a curious thought in silence about the much-overlooked view, the uniquely-skewed perspective of the world through a stranger's blank eyes. Feedback level: BRING IT ON! (10)