The Mansion

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Morning came, it always did and she for one, was grateful. She had far too much living to do. She rolled over in bed and found it empty, which did not surprise her in the least. She rolled out of bed, took a quick shower, donning an emerald green top held up by spaghetti straps and a pair of black shorts. She debated sandals but simply chose to go barefooted. Even as a child she could never stand having anything on her feet.

She meandered out to the kitchen, fixed a cup of coffee, grabbed something quick from the fruit bowl and headed for her office. There were thoughts rolling around in her head, creative or introspective, she wasn't sure, maybe both.

There was no sign of M and she grinned as she bit into the apple. Work. She'd catch up with him sooner or later, she was sure.

The door to her study was open. Setting her mug on the desk, she moved to open the glass doors that led to another small patio but this one was part of the larger one that wrapped around the house. There was a small breeze from the ocean not far away and it felt good as the day promised to be warm.

Returning to her desk chair Cait sat down and reached for her coffee. Her eyes idly scanned the things on her desk. There weren't too many to clutter it. A picture of her lion, one of the Lady Wolf, one of Glad, her dagger and the vase that held the now dying flower from LI. Mental note: Dispose of the dying. She didn't need it to be reminded of him.

Keyboard or Journal. Hm.
 
Work had enveloped him for the past 2 days. He was tired of staring at the computer monitor by the time he returned to the Mansion. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but still felt surprisingly energetic. He was in a dire need of a shower and a shave, however.

He hadn't seen Cait since the party at the Outlook the other night. Thinking of her brought a smile to his face.

He headed straight to the bedroom, shaved, cleaned himself thoroughly with soap and water, and after putting on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he decided to go shoot some pool.

On his way to the entertainment room, he stopped by in the kitchen to grab a soda. He knew Cait had been around. He could smell her perfume. It reminded him of the night when he was walking through the cold, dark passage way, completely blindfolded, and all he could hear was the clicking of her heels, all he could smell was the same perfume, in front of him, every step of the way. Maybe he would change his mind and walk down to the Cellar for a little while...to check out the wines...and then maybe explore the room behind it too...*he grinned and blushed*

As he came out of the kitchen and glanced towards his left, he heard a soft sound...as if a window had been left open and the breeze was blowing in through...he decided to change his direction and headed towards the Study...not knowing it was actually open and occupied.
 
She had given up trying to force her brain into action. Instead, she had taken the vase with the dying flower out into the garden and put it on the compost pile. Some, who didn't care for LI might have found it was a fitting place for his gift. She shrugged. She had her own thoughts where he was concerned and none of which she felt obliged to share.

Returning to the study, she was just setting the vase on her desk and was startled by finding a new one, filled with a bouquet and leaning against it was a small card. Curiously, she lifted the card from its resting place and read it silently, a small soft smile playing around her lips. retrieving the small wooden box from the back depths of the bottom drawer, she placed the card inside, closed the box and replaced it.

She was going to try to begin writing when she sensed it. Her fingers fell away from the keyboard, one hand, coming to rest in her lap, the other reaching for her mug.
 
As he kept walking, he felt that scent fade away, a slight disappointment as in the back of his mind, he was hoping it would lead him to wherever the Lady had been...perhaps. When he was a few feet away from the Study, however, a smile came across his face and he realized that the reason his brain misled him into believing he could follow the scent, was the breeze that was blowing from the other end of the room, and the girl he was looking for, was sitting right in front of him, in that same room. As soon as she saw him, she stopped whatever she was doing and becoming slightly conscious, grabbed her coffee with one hand.

"Am I interrupting something?", he asked after knocking on the already open door.
 
"Not at all," she swiveled around her chair to face him, a smile on her face, "Come in, M. If that door is open, consider it an open invitation to enter."

Her eyes watched him. They held a friendly, warm, welcoming light, but everything else she was thinking was hidden. Four men reminded her of what she truly was, deep down. She was fast realizing, M was becoming one of them, just in another, different aspect.

"How are you? I haven't seen you since Milady Thyri's party. Busy, I gather?"
 
His eyes never left her as she turned around to greet him, dressed in a green top with straps, her long hair cascading down to her shoulders. He wondered what she was wearing below the waist, and on her feet...

He walked in slowly towards her, about to close the door behind him...habit...but then stopped short, realizing it wasn't necessary and moved forward towards the desk.

"I have been a bit occupied with work, yes. I haven't seen you after the party either". He knew what she had been up to since the party, but it was neither important, nor productive to talk or ask her about it at the moment.

"How have...you been, Milady?", he gave her a warm smile, as she watched him closely, deep in thought. He saw the half eaten apple on her desk and just grinned to himself.
 
As he drew closer, she curled a finger at him and then pointed at the floor right in front of her, an indication of the point where she wanted him to be. She didn't speak yet, simply waited for his compliance.
 
He noticed the change in her facial expressions, and the air surrounding them suddenly became warmer. A slight shiver ran through his body as she motioned him, just with a finger. His pulse increased.

He was not going to waste any time complying to her request, which was more like a silent command.

The grin on his face was gone. He walked around the large desk, slowly, towards her, and when he was just a foot away, dropped to the floor, on his knees, moved both of his hands onto his lap and looked up at her waiting self. He immediately noticed that she was wearing a pair of shorts. He tried not to glance at her legs and focused his gaze towards her face, into her eyes, and then lowered his head, looking directly at her...bare...feet.

He did not say anything, until spoken to.
 
"You will not," she lifted his chin with gentle, yet firm fingers until his eyes met hers, "look down at my feet. You will look at me directly. The eyes are the windows to the soul. I am unlike most others of that aspect of my nature, M. But that is another matter altogether."

She set aside her coffee and leaned toward him, brushing her lips over his in reward for his obedience and because it gave her pleasure to do so. Her lips barely left his before she spoke again.

"I wanted you here, like this, because I can far more easily see into your eyes this way." She leaned back slightly, removing her fingers from his chin.

"I'm tired of having to always look up into someone's eyes when we speak. Besides which, " she grinned impishly, "I thought I'd remind you of the other night in the play room."

She crossed one leg over the other, lightly brushing them against his arm as she did so. Her toes were painted a dark red. Strangely enough, that was the only place she liked that strong color on, her toes.

"I am well and in a mood it seems."
 
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He nodded gently, his face held up by her fingers, and looked directly up and into her beautiful eyes, except for when they moved sideways to watch her coffee mug being placed on the desk. He felt her lean forward, and below, and her warm breath against his, as her sensuous lips brushed against his mouth and began to speak...he felt the arousal growing inside him, the air getting even warmer than it was before.

The mention of the playroom caused him to blush a bit, as he lowered his eyes, before turning his gaze back at her, watching her lean back. His eyes fell upon her legs as they crossed and touched his arm.

"Yes, Milady", was all he could say at that point, as her one leg rose in the air, allowing him to notice the brightly painted toes out of the corner of his eye.

"The other night...in t...the...playroom was very exciting. I would love to go in there again", he murmured softly.
 
Letting her head rest back against the chair, her head tilted slightly to one side as she watched him. So shy. So willing and oh so appealing. Whatever sternness had been on her face before, relaxed.

"And so we will, in due time. There are things I still wish to learn about you, M. Things I want to build between us before we retreat to play. In the meantime, you have access to the room, so you may wander in there at any time and explore and as you realized, there are secret passages built into the walls. And I meant to tell you before, please feel free to bring back any guests you would like to have at any given point, to share your room with or even share the play room with. I get busy frequently and I would hate to see all that playful willingness of yours go unfulfilled. Your needs and desires are paramount."

Uncrossing her legs, she rose to her feet in a fluid motion, holding out her hand to him.

"Come, you were off somewhere before you sensed me. Off with you then. I may join you a little later. For the moment the other realm beckons and I must give heed."
 
He listened to her carefully, nodded gently, and sensed her relax a bit as she uncrossed her legs and rose swiftly.

Then, taking her hand, he stood up, in front of her, before turning and walking towards the door, as they started to part their ways, for the moment.

He would walk down to the cellar and explore the playroom now. Yes, that was the plan.

He kept walking towards the door which would lead him down to the cellar, and eventually to the play room behind it. He was in a state of arousal, and in the mood to explore the dungeon again.

As he walked through the stack of wines, he imagined the liquid as it would flow down a human body. Maybe his. Not inside, but outside, over the body. His mind drifted and he remembered the other night when Cait had appeared mysteriously from behind the pentacle in a stunning outfit and had then led him behind her, without being able to see, through a passage way into another, possibly hidden room.

He planned to explore that place down under further this evening. But not before he had a chance to play with the toys from the trunk. And the ones that hung over the walls directly beneath the scones of lights.

First, he pulled a rope from the toy chest and tried binding his ankles together with it. The rope wasn't too rough, but he imagined it would still leave marks if properly tied against the flesh. He did not tighten it a lot. Another piece of rope was wound over his thighs. After a few failed attempts at standing, crouching, and falling on his butt, he was kneeling on the floor with his legs tied together.

He searched for other things that interested him at the moment. He found the silk scarf that had been tied over his eyes the other night. No, he would not blindfold himself right now. That would be stupid, especially since he was alone, and in a strange place. He instead, did something else, which was less stupid. He somehow managed to tie his wrists together with the scarf and then started crawling on the floor for a few minutes. The feeling of being bound, and not able to stand or walk straight increased the state of his arousal and he felt himself pulse and throb...slowly, but surely. He then pulled his wrists up to his mouth and freed his hands with some effort. Once the rope was removed, he could stand up and walk freely. How he wished there was someone else to administer whatever he had been trying with himself.

He decided to move past this room and find out where Cait had led him...causing him to walk towards the end of the dungeon, past the pentacle and the cross, and towards the door which seemed to be shut. He peered around. Nothing. He was not sure how to open it and get past. Just then, he noticed something on the he wall next to the door, above his head. It was a stone that looked slightly misplaced in regards to the ret of the wall. He stood up on his toes and tried to touch it, feel it...he then grabbed it and tried to press the tile hoping it would open the door. Nothing happened. He tried again, this time turning it. It required some strength. Still nothing. He kept turning it, using both hands now, as his body stretched, while leaning against that corner of the room. When the stone turned about 45 degrees, there was a clicking sound, followed by a voice that said,

"Come in, M. But please be careful".

Then, the door slowly began to open. He could see the staircase that spiraled downwards. He went past the door, watching it shut automatically behind him once he went down a few steps.
 
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The Study- Random Ideas

(NOTE: I don't bite, people. I'll write with almost anyone once, more, if they're decent at it. I believe in giving everyone a chance to write. I encourage those that want to try. If something here catches your eye, drop me a PM and let me know which one. Let's talk. If I've got lots of threads going, I'll consider reserving the piece for you. )


*A Dark Tale Idea*


I want to write a dark tale of terror, mind manipulation and fear, pushing my own boundaries. This one is going to go beyond the boundaries stipulated in my SRP profile. We'll talk.


Fall Into Grace:

She’s an angel sent to earth on assignment. He’s a mortal with a young son (or daughter, your choice) whose wife died a few years ago. He can’t seem to get over it and move on. Her assignment is to help them both move on. Begin fresh by looking toward the future not the past.

Our angel becomes his housekeeper. Heaven knows, he could use one. She integrates into his household while our guy parades several females through their lives. They find themselves attracted to each other. In the end, she is given a choice. Return to mortality or to her immortality to serve another time.

This one needs fleshing out further. This is just the bare bone basics.



*Medieval Thread Idea* ---- taken by M13

It needs lots of collaborating because I don’t have a plotline for this one, just a couple of pieces.

Knight without a lord and no home.

Woman who has lived in the woods for as long as she can remember. Wears leather trews, vest and boots, fights with a sword well, is not trusting of the two-legged male animal. Somewhere deep inside her, she yearns to be a lady. She watches, observes ladies and while she thinks them silly, she still wants to be one.

Help me develop this one?



Fantasy and Fancy:

Katherine is an anthropologist with a secret desire. All her life she has studied humankind. But her secret desire has been vampires. She has been taught that they're a myth. Something inside her has always resisted that notion. She's a scientist. Some greater part of her believes that things must be proven to be real. Yet, some small part of her says otherwise.

Katherine moves to a small town, somewhere. One end of town is developed and thriving. But on the outskirts of the other end of town, is where the town use to be. Some old buildings still stand even if not completelty in one piece. Kat, is drawn there, time and time again. She discovers the old library and inside, much to her surprise, most of the books are still in residence.

On one of her trips there, she runs into a rugged stranger. Eventually, she learns he lives upstairs above the library and he's a vampire. A gentlemanly one, of sorts. He has been feeding off her and insuring she doesn't remember it. They get to know one another and he stops using her for his blood doll. He relishes the "good things in life". Good music, chess, surroundings, clothes, etc, etc.

The end goal here is that they fall in love and she has a decision to make, stay human and he watches her die or he turns her.


The Folly of Fate---taken by BehaviorMod

(note: Names can be changed to suit my co-writer. Very little is truly written in stone. )

Treachery abounded in her home. Her father, king of Parma, killed by those who would see him unthroned. Her mother, Destria, died suddenly not long after him. It was thought she died of a broken heart, but Xeneroces, knew better. Her older brother, Xen knew in her heart, had killed their mother in one of those fits of rage he was known widely for. Tyron was clever. Xen always felt he was mad and sadistic but hardly clever. She supposed, however, that in order to survive this long, one had to be clever to a point. Tyron's problem was that his certain amount of cleverness, fed his ego and arrogance.

Both were exiled. Xen counted her blessings. For the both of them could have been beheaded. The king on the throne now would have one less worry. Their state of affairs rankled Tyron. He was the true king and he would sit on his throne once again. No matter what it took to accomplish that.

What it took was Tyron bullying his sister. When she didn't show him the respect he thought he was due or she wasn't quick enough to do his bidding or simply refused to, she was beaten, by him. He always took care not to beat her face. He had plans for his little slut of a sister. In Tyron's mind, all females were sluts. They had but one purpose, to be used by men. Tyron had learned of a desert clan of fierce riders that were a blood thirsty lot. Fierce in battle. They raped the defeated clan's females, slit the throats of the men, women too, if it pleased them. They were dark skinned with flowing black hair and slightly slanted eyes. They were expert horsemen. There was one warlord that stood out among the clans. Kaal Draga. It was said he was the fiercest of them all. Kaal Draga stood over six feet tall with a broad chest and rippling muscles. His eyes were of the color of the blackest night and could pierce a man's soul.

Tyron would barter his pretty little slut of a sister with her hazel eyes, burnished hair the color of fire and creamy skin the color of the stars, for Kaal Draga's men. He needed an army to defeat his enemies and take back his throne. It was Kaal Draga's men he wanted and he would sell his sister to get them.


Fetching The New Consort:


(First, Morri has to convince this man she is who she says she is. he doesn't believe her at first. She must be nuts, right? There will be a lot of hot sex between them and then she has to convince him to go with her.[/I])

Morri had been summoned and was none too pleased by it either. She rather fly under Mom's radar than be on it. She stomped her way into the Lady Of All Things' grand hall, flopping, unceremoniously into the closest chair, hooking one leg, quite unladylike, over an arm. She had adopted the dress of the twenty-first century. The Lady glanced over her shoulder and shook her head in resignation as she poured two cups of tea. She brought one to the Morrigan before turning toward her own seat. While the Lady's back was to her, Morri sniffed the tea and made a face, tugging a flask from her pocket and pouring some of the contents into the cup. She just managed to slip the flask back into hiding as the Lady sat down and glanced across the room at her Harbinger of Death. The displeasure on her face was obvious.

"What?"

Morri feigned innocense, and none too well at that. The Lady wasn't fooled, clearly.

"Morrigan, your manner of dress, why is it so hard for you to conform when you are among us? We leave you in peace. We let you do your job...."

Morri, who was slumped in her chair, sat up a little straighter, looking down at herself.

"What's wrong with how I'm dressed? I think I look awesome. The epitome of Death, don't you think? Why should I go around wearing that yucky, stuffy depressing robe when I can look like this?"

Morri had chosen to wear a black tank top that clung to her body. It was tucked into a pair of black jeans that hugged her figure. Those jeans tapered into a pair of hand-tooled leather boots. In place of her well known scythe, she wore strapped to her back, a Shinai. Although it was just a glamour. The shinai was really just her scythe. The shinai was easier to pack around and Morri personally thought it was a lot cooler looking. Her hair was bound into a thick dark red braid that rested over one shoulder at the moment.

The Lady simply sighed, took a sip of tea and flicked her wrist in a dismissing motion.

"Morrigan, you know how most of us are. We're fond of our humans and I won't deny that I have a few favorites among them myself. There is one in particular that I've been watching for some time now and I want him to join me here. I want you to go down and convince him to join me."

Morri, who had been enjoying her spiked tea, twisted her head sharply in the Lady's direction. Her brow spiked as she set the cup and saucer on a nearby table and came to her feet, pacing the floor.

"Do I look like a courier to you, Mom?"

Now while most gods and goddesses trembled in the presence of the Lady of All Things, Morri did not. In fact, when summoned to counsel, Morri had dubbed the Lady, "Mom", simply because it irritated the Lady but Morri, didn't care. It amused her, therefore, it would be so. Time had come and gone. The Lady had punished her for insolence. That changed not a thing. Morri's thinking was simple. The Lady was the Mother of All Things, yes? So, calling her "Mom" could hardly be construed as insolence. Morrigan was smart enough to keep that little name in private, addressing the Lady in proper terms, in public.

"You serve me, Morrigan, regardless of the task I set before you."

"But Mom, I don't want to."

The Lady held up a hand, stemming the flood of protests she knew were coming. Another quick flick of her wrist and Morri started to disappear with the Lady's words ringing in her ears.

"Convince him, Morrigan, to join me. I need a new Consort."

Morrigan found herself sitting on a stool, in a bar, in the twenty-first century. A fight amongst men had just broken out. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Leaning back against the bar, an elbow settled on the bartop on each side of her. Morri looked over her shoulder.

"Batender. A beer," and as an afterthought, she added, "please."

Fists and blood were flying, bodies were going down and jumping up, getting shoved every which way. A wide back was stumbling her way. She lifted a foot as she took the beer. There were three things Morri loved the best, well, four if you were counting her job. A good fight. Good booze. A good fuck and her job. She booted the body back into the fray as she took a swig from the cold bottle.


Simple Desires

This one is a simple romance. She's a fiesty country girl trying to run the family ranch. Her father is a drunk and not much help. Her older brother is a spenddrift. There's a younger brother. Her mother died years ago. Cancer. The family ranch is 100 acres. The family is in debt and it becomes startling clear that they could lose the ranch if something isn't done soon. A stranger, male, ends up on her front porch, looking for work. She has none to offer but she does offer him a room and meals for the night.

She has a greedy neighbor who has been trying to convince her dad to sell for years. He wants the water rights to her land and the additional land to expand his own spread. She has to work against his devious mind, look after her family and solve the money crunch issue. Asking for help or accepting it, is not something she looks for. She looks after and worries about everyone but herself.


Killing Me Softly --Reworked and closed for LordUsagi

Edit: This thread has been upgraded for three writers or two with the my co-author playing two roles. This thread is up for recycling and revamping.

Two assassins, one male, one female. One target. Neither assassin knows the other nor do either of them know they have acquired the same target until later. How that information is exposed, to be discussed between parties. Ideas welcome.

The female assassin ends up sleeping with both at some point. Again, neither male knows this little fact. In the end, she can’t do it. She walks away from both her assignment and both males. The punch line? The male assassin completes the contract however; he takes out the mutual target.

Note: Quite possibly, this could lead into another segue between assassins and the knowledge that the male assassin made the kill. The rest is open for ideas.



Red Riding Hood- A Paradox

The wolf is a man who transform into a huge four-legged wolf during the blood moon. The blood moon waxes for four days and in that time, if it bites, it transforms the bitten into a wolf as well. While in wolf form, it is vicious killer. The village makes a sacrifice of an animal, only the best, to sate the wolf's hunger for blood. If village fails to offer a sacrifice, the wolf will kill one of them.

"Red" lives in this village. The wolf is stalking her. It wants her. For its' mate. Only "Red" has eyes for a human male. "Red" learns she can understand the wolf. No one else can. Why can she?

These are just basics, so that the story has room for collaboration by the writers.




The Tangled Web We Weave-

He's a federal agent who has been removed from a case. At the time, it seemed plausible, the department's reasoning, but now that he has time to think about it, he's not so clear on that plausible aspect. He owns a hunting cabin in rural Montana. Since he's also on administrative leave, he might as well go enjoy himself. It's December, but the weather is unusually warm for this time of the year.

She's a fugitive on the run. Wanted by federal agents for questioning on the murder of a major drug dealer, who, it turns out, happens to be her boyfriend. She didn't do it. Framed quite cleverly by a major drug cartel with a little inside help from someone in the federal bureau, she manages to elude capture and heads for another state. Some place remote. By Fate's design, she ends up in Montana. Her car breaks down somewhere remote and she finds herself walking through the woods, looking for a house, a cabin, someone, to help her.

She doesn't know he's a fed who was the lead investigator in her boyfriend's case. He doesn't know she's the person of interest in the case he got kicked off of. She can't prove her innocence. Not only do the feds want her, but the drug cartel wants her dead. A tidy end to a messy case.





The Dark Lure

(This tale can be shifted so my co-author is the Sidhe and she's the human druid. As I've said, I'm pretty open-minded where story ideas are concerned)

Far back in time, mankind made a pact with the Fae. Through all the elaborate, formal wording, what it amounted to was that both worlds would respect the other and not deliberately seek to destroy each other. Druids were chosen by the Fae Queen herself to keep the wall between the worlds intact. Four were chosen, one to represent the elements: Air, Earth, Water and Fire.

The sacred duties of the druids was passed down through a male line. Each fall, on the thirty-first of October, when the Veil between the worlds (all worlds) becomes the thinnest, the druids must perform a ritual to keep the wall strong. The Fae or the Sidhe, as many would call them, must never find a way into the human world. Humans are fragile. They are far younger than the Sidhe and the Sidhe have discovered they like humans, for slaves, if they last that long.

An amulet belonging to the Queen of the Sidhe has gone missing and she believes it to be in the realm of man. The amulet is important for within it, lies the mist that has built the wall that keeps the Fae secure in their own world. If that amulet is opened, there will be many deaths. Fae and human.

The longer the Queen stays in the human realm, the more she is drawn to the humans and her eyes are set on one of her chosen druids. The lure to draw him to her, make him her personal captive, is strong and grows stronger the longer she stays in their realm.

How long can she hold onto the toned-down glamour she wears that allows them to function while around her?

How long can she resist the urge to claim the male for her own?

The Tuatha De Danann are not use to holding back, of controlling their urges, especially their sexual ones.



If Only

They say you can't go home again but what if we can? What if we had the opportunity to back in time and change our past, therefore changing our future?

This is a story about a woman in the future who has the opportunity to go back in time and change her past. She travels back to find a lost love, bent on changing how she handled matters and in turn, the chance to change her life. Before it is all set in stone however, she also has to dwell on if this is truly what she wants. The life she had would no longer exist. She must look on her past with the eyes of the future.

What will she choose to do?



The Tempest:- Reserved for Craygus13

She owns a bar on the edge of town. One side of town are Marines. The other side are bikers. Both frequent her bar. People keep getting hurt. Civilians, Marines, Bikers.

Things are getting out of control and she needs help. She knows what she needs to do, she needs to hire a bouncer.

He’s not a handsome man. He’s comfortable with himself. He’s quiet, not afraid to use his fists if need be. She hires him to clean up her bar. Keep things under control. He walks softly, so to speak but doesn’t back down in the face of adversity.

It comes to light that there is a more sinister undercurrent developing. Some of the bikers had been hired to create trouble for her. The idea was to make the place so unpleasant that people would cease to come to her bar and their employer can buy it for a song.

There is an attraction between the owner and the bouncer, but he makes it plain he is not the stay around kind. Does that change by the time everything has been dealt with? Who knows?


The Knight And The Grail:--- Reserved for M13

A jaded knight, one has long given up in believing in anything but his own survival, is on a self mission, to locate a grail. He had heard old tales as a lad of the Grail of Illumination. What does it say of a man when he feels there's is nothing left in this world for him, but survival and yet... deep inside of himself where no one looks, a place he keeps locked away, there is a desperate hope. 'Tis but a flicker at best. He wants a reason for being. A cause. A reason to wake each morning beyond his own sake. Do such things still exist in a a world that is growing dark with Mankind's own avarice? There is a light that dwells within man and his is all but extinguished.

In his search, during his trials and tribulations he meets up with a woman. A woman who does not fit in the mold of what women are suppose to be like. They also tend to rub each other wrong. They end up as traveling companions. She keeps asking him what he searches for and he keeps refusing to tell her. Toward the end of their journey and after many hot, sensual nights together, he tells her what he is seeking, waiting for her to laugh at him. She doesn't and enlightens him about the Grail of Illumination. Then walks(rides) away. Leaving him standing there with a dumbfounded look on his face. End of story? Well, that all depends on the knight, doesn't it?



Captive Queen: --- Reserved for ShiningShadow

Being drug behind a horse by a long rope with her wrists bound in front of her was not doing a damn thing to improve her disposition any. Her mood was already surly at best. The very fact that they had caught her unawares made her mentally snarl. She was better than that. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t slept in days.

She sighed inwardly. How the bloody hell was she going to get out of this one? Time was essential. Maybe she should have paid heed to the head counselors. The queen of Thydes should not be traversing the deserts of Romades without guards. The guards would attract attention to her, wasn’t that something they were trying to avoid at all costs? Why did she, personally have to travel to Derthanion? They argued back. Because she was the only one that could fully explain their predicament. Her defense to them. They could hardly argue that point though they pressed in regards to her safety. She had waved her hand at them and glared. She was no royalty that sat pampered in some gilded cage. Did she need to remind them of that? They found it hard to refute.

So, here she was, dressed in leathers, her sword confiscated and being drug behind a horse. Her eyes narrowed on the back of the one pulling her along.

Sidhe Seer:

I am one of the last of my kind. Fianna Mack is my name. My own mother always said I had been a baby stolen, for all my siblings have red hair and green eyes and I, I am the only one born with raven black hair and emerald eyes.

‘Tis a tradition in my family, becoming a Sidhe Seer that is. Such matters are passed from mother to daughter and since she had but one. How lucky am I, eh?

What is a Sidhe Seer you might well ask? We can see the sidhe. That’s not something to brag about either. The Sidhe are dangerous. The story goes that they are quite beautiful/handsome to look upon and simply ooze sex appeal. To resist one, well, it just isn’t done. If anyone stands the chance of doing so, it would be a Sidhe Seer. The Sidhe enjoy fucking. They have been known to fuck a female/male to death.

You see, Sidhe have no emotions. Fucking, is perhaps, their only way to feel anything. So, they do it, constantly and readily. At first, they make slaves out the mortals they fuck and sometimes, if permission is granted, they’ll take the mortal back to their lands and keep them as sex pets. Can one die of constant orgasms? I’m not willing to find out.

Sidhe Seers have the ability to resist. Though that is a job all on its own. Now aren’t I just lucky? I haven’t run into one yet, which is a good thing. I don’t like temptation. I’m afraid I may give into it.

The wall between Fae and humans has fallen. How? Why? Who is responsible? These are merely the surface questons I ask myself. I have to get that wall up again. But how? Where do I start? More importantly, at least to me, is, why me?

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Through The Mirror:

She slept, deeply. In all this time he had been watching over her, she never stirred to his presence. He watched, waited, for mortal time to turn. As the moon rose high in the sky, he stepped free of the glass that was his prison. On feet that never made sound he approached her bed, watching her sleep. Stretching out a hand, he brushed the back of it across her cheek. She still didn’t stir. He knew she wouldn’t. If anything, his touch would, to her, simply be a soft delicate breeze. He laid down beside her, sliding an arm over her hip, moving as close to her as he could get. She pressed back against him, bringing a delighted smile to his lips. He kissed the nape of her neck. She shivered. Her lips murmured something. He never quite caught it. He closed his eyes, syncing his heartbeat, his breathing, to hers and joined her in the Dream World….

(he can only come to her in the Dream World)


The Lady is a Pirate:-- taken by AgentBond

She laughed into the wind as she stood at the bow of her black frigate. Once again she had bested him. She lifted her hand in salute as his own frigate disappeared back into the night. She hadn’t seen the last of him. They have been competing for years, spices, rum, gold, you name it, they were usually both after it. Sometimes, it was she who came away empty-handed. She took it all in good grace. Bounding away from the bow, she yelled out orders to her men, those aboard her own ship and the captured one. It wouldn’t do to linger longer than necessary. There was a price on her head. It just made things so much more interesting.

Dressed in black from head to toe, she moved silently to stack their bounty so more could be brought aboard. Her red curls were pinned to her head and covered with a black head scarf. She straightened as the box was dropped into place.

“The last of the men were brought aboard?” She asked her first mate. He nodded. She glanced at the captive ship, “Disengage and set fire to her.” Raising her voice so the man at the helm heard clearly, “ Make for the island. We’ll set them ashore there. It’s close enough to the shipping lines.” She glanced at her first mate, “You know the drill. I’ll be below if you need me.” Another quick glance around, a nod of satisfaction and she went below,

(her main partner in this tale is the man on the other frigate, her “competition”. He’s quite the rogue. They have been dancing around each other for years, but have never bedded each other. They have gotten drunk together, fought together and with each other. He gets on her nerves because of his arrogant attitude. She gets on his because she’s such an independent hellcat. Inevitable is the head on clash these two are on a course for.)
 
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A silent vision in dark blue emerged from the trees that line her estate, moving soundlessly along the dirt path carved by many trips to and from the ocean. The hem of her gown became wet with the night dew that caught the blades of grass as she crossed through the rose gardens. Easily could she have been a shadow if the moon had graced her presence, but it did not, making her instead, one with the darkness. Not even the silver threads in her gown shimmered for there was no light to refract it.

Effortlessly, she opened the glass door, leaving it open as she stepped into her room. She wanted to taste the night air this night as she slept alone. The delta breeze from the ocean gently blew on gauzy curtains, making them billow as she stood at the foot of the bed, reaching up for the clasp that held her dress in place. Plucking it free, the gown slid down her form, a puddle of dark blue, shot with silver, at her feet. She stepped clear, curve and shadow, leaned down to retrieve the material, draping it over the end of the bed. Moving around to one side, she tugged back the covers, holding them, as she slipped into bed. She’d have to remove most of the covers in the morning. It was getting far too warm to sleep with so many. A thin blanket, sheet and comforter would do. It seemed like she was always cold without another body to wrap her in warmth.

The night had claimed the world and even now, Morpheus descended to claim her for a dance of dreams. Her eyes closed. Her breath deepened. Behind her the curtains continued to billow and contract as if they were a living, breathing thing. Perhaps, she wasn’t so cold after all.
 
He went past the room he had been brought in the other night. The room that had the unusual wooden bench that had intrigued him. He found a couple of hidden passageways along the path. One of them led to a small room that looked like an office. It had everything except a computer, found in most modern offices today. But in the corner, hung on the wall, he saw a pair of wooden planks with two holes in each of them. The holes were large enough for a baseball bat to slide through. The other passage led to a room containing more toys, including a dagger on the wall, chains, handcuffs, beads, plugs, etc...which eventually led to a door that he was unable to open. He took the dagger from the wall and held it in his hand. Then, closing his eyes, he held it against his cheek, sliding it down, slowly, carefully, feeling the metal against his flesh. He held a chain in his hand, the beads on which were increasing in size. When he was done, he exited the room.

As he continued through the corridor, the walls were getting closer and closer. By the time he reached the end of the corridor, there was just enough space to fit one person, sideways. After he squeezed through however, he realized it gave way to another staircase that now went straight up. He could not see the top. So he started climbing, carefully, for the width of each step was half that of a normal one. It started getting darker and darker as he climbed up. He had to take each step with extreme caution. By the time he had reached halfway, he sensed the darkness starting to fade. as there was light coming it thorough the small crack in the door right above him. As he was about to push the door, it started opening by itself...very slowly...
 
She needed to feel steel in her hands again. She had been neglecting her training and she would suffer because of it. So the morning found her in the rose gardens. Her hair gathered into a ponytail. A black tank top that came to rest at the bottom of her waist. Black leggings curved over her hips and backside, molding over those curves. She wore black studded Grecian type sandals on her feet and in her hands, the finely honed edges glinting in the sun, her swords.

Her face was pure concentration as her arms moved fluidly, gracefully through the air. She made it look effortless, twisting the blades, presenting them in either an offensive or defensive posture. Her body moved exactly the same way, but there was a definition of strength from her muscles, giving testament that the exercise she put herself through was not an easy thing.

The morning sun glinted off the blades as she moved them. It didn't take long for a fine layer of sweat to form on her brow or across the swell of her breasts, soaking the material there. Lightly at first were her movements but getting progressively stronger, determined, aggressive. It was easy to imagine aggressive moves. She didn't neglect the defensive ones though. Having done this so much, it was easier for her to imagine defensive actions and she always tried to imagine a few she wasn't use to.
 
As the door opened, his eyes closed instantly as if they had been hit by flood lights or the sun was staring at him directly. He had been in the dark for a while now. It had only been a few hours since he had entered the cellar, he thought. How could it be daylight?

As he climbed the last stair and stepped out, into the open, he felt the soft grass under his bare feet. It was wet from the dew. So strange. He remembered wearing shoes earlier. Where did they go?

Eventually, when his eyes opened, there was a smile on his face, in addition to another, big, question mark.
 
Journal Entry

~I need to purge and this is how I do it, by writing.~


This weekend when we spoke, I took your words at face value, not understanding why you felt the need to apologize. Now I wonder. I have pondered that conversation since then and I have come to the conclusion, I dislike ambiguity. Strongly. I so want to say, Man up. Lay it on the table. Quit trying to make me guess what you mean. I won’t though. I understand far more than I should. I see, far more than most. Now I wonder if I should have taken those words of yours at face value. Now, you have me second guessing what you meant. Were you trying to tell me not to become too attached because I am not the only one? Were you subtly calling me a cyberslut? There is a third question, but I dismiss the possibility. Were you trying to tell me, without telling me directly that you were addicted to me? I’m not that egotistic. The first question, my answer is simple. I never thought I was. I remember your words. I don’t take them for anything but the truth simply because you have no reason to lie to me. As for the second, that question would then make me wonder if you lurked about in any spare time to see what I was doing. My answer is simple. I don’t owe you any explanation for why I do what I do or when. You choose to remain in the shadows. You want me? Take me. Claim what you want.

I’m not stupid nor am I ignorant. I am what I am. I won’t apologize for it. But I will tell you what I am not, in case you‘re thinking it, I am not a slut nor am I addicted to cyber sex. I know, you didn’t say the first, but I’m telling you, just in case you wondered silently and you did ask the second. And if you think the second of me? Then you don’t know me at all.

Now I have to wonder why I let it get to me. Why am I even thinking about it? I know there are people who can’t understand how emotional/mental connections can be made between people and made strong and enduring over the internet. Things become what you let them become. What you put out, is what comes back to you. People affect people and to what degree they do, depends on what you allow. Yes, it’s just that simple. If you let your walls down, allow yourself to trust, to care, then you do. Sometimes it can be detrimental, sometimes, it can enhance. It’s all strictly up to you. You may never, ever meet, that person on the other side of the computer, but that doesn’t make them any less real. They’re still someone with feelings. We affect people every day with our words. Why would this world be any different? Maybe it affects moreso because this is a world of words.

What I know for sure is this, I'm done thinking about it. I spewed it out and I'm over it. Time to move on.
 
It was time to get some work done. Posts were owed and she had something creative she wanted to write as well... but damnit if M's av wasn't more distracting than his last.

*she grinned and decided to float around a bit first.*
 
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A simple thought and she is sitting at her desk again, leaning her head back against the chair. She should get up and get a glass of wine, but her eyes catch the things on her desk and they make her smile. Perhaps, for now, this is enough.
 
She wasted no time this morning. It was up and about. Coffee, shower, clothes and desk time. Well almost desk time, since her lion seems to be set on teasing her this morning. Sneaky damn lion. He blindsided her today, totally caught her off guard. She had underestimated him. Well, she wouldn't do that again. She grinned, amused...

Damnit, how does he do it? I was just thinking about him. Focus, Cait. Focus. Get things done this morning. Do NOT let a sexy lion throw off your focus today.
 
Business was seen to. Now she had some time to play. Slipping from her chair and away from her desk, she moved with determined strides to her room , closing the door softly behind her as she headed for her closet.

What to wear.. what to wear.

Her eyes fell upon an outfit. Not exactly the same as last time, but this one suited her mood perfectly. Stripping off her current clothing, she donned her choice, lacing herself in before rummaging around for her boots with the three inch heels.

She opened the door to her room and stepped out, closing the door behind her. Her heels made a soft tapping sound on the floors as she made her way to the foot of the stairs and up them.

Was he home? Upstairs even or had he gone out, exploring. In any case... she climbed the stairs, held the slip of paper in one hand against his door. She drew back her other and with a soft thunk, sunk the dirk through the paper and into the door. The note was of few words.


Cellar. The moment you get this.​

Turning, she went back downstairs, down the hall to the kitchen and made her way to the Cellar. The door opened for her and she stepped inside. As the door closed, she crossed to the winged back chair and sat down, leaning her head back, crossing one leg over the other and let her hands rest in her lap. Her eyes closed.
 
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