Post by Sealla (Retired) on Aug 9, 2005 9:41:40 GMT
This is just a little something I've started working on. It's short for now, but I'm working on more at the moment. It will be added on soon.
Crashes and dull clunks of colliding antlers resounded throughout the meadow at the brink of night. Well-aimed pushes and shoves evened themselves between the two mighty elk, battling together for pride. Not once did either pair of eyes leave the other’s, but with one quick jab of unlocked antlers, the slightly larger one had the other onto the ground. Then there was a second to spare before the pain. Two fur-covered antlers had speared the side of the fallen elk, the cry echoing all around.
Bolting upright from under her covers, the woman let out a gasp, sweat mingling with her curtaining black hair. Both her pupils were dilated in a very shocked, hazed fashion, but after a few rushed glances around the darkened room, her memory came back to her. She was under a black mink blanket, and snoring beside her was a man with short, messily spiked mousy brown hair with an arm draped across her stomach. Their room, through what she could make out in the darkness, was well kept, but still with the occasional piece of clothing randomly draped somewhere.
She ran a pressed hand over her forehead, sliding her fingers through the fringe of her hair, and ran it down the back of her head. Sweat covered her body, which slowly began to cool her off. Once her breathing had calmed itself, she lifted the arm from over her waist under the covers and climbed out of the bed, slipping the purple moccasins onto her feet.
Scuffing her way through the darkness, an instinctive hand snaked its way over her stomach. No one but herself knew what little thing was contained inside. Eventually after a few rooms of passing the other hand gripped the fridge door and pulled it open, the sterile light pouring onto her thinly covered form. With a sigh, the door closed when she was out of the room, sliding back into the bed. It didn’t matter how much of a fuss she made, because he wouldn’t wake from anything, and hadn’t so far.
And thankfully, he still didn’t when the phone rang, back in the kitchen. She dragged herself from the bedroom again and picked up the handset. “Hello?” she yawned. Glancing down at her watch for a spit second, it pointed to two thirty-eight.
“Were you asleep?” spoke a panicked female voice, slightly higher than her own.
“No… I was, but that was before you called.” The hand that draped over her stomach lifted to scratch the back of her head. She recognised the voice to be a childhood, close friend; two years older than her.
The voice on the other end of the line was a lot more awake than herself, but still held the tired tone, “I had a dream, did you?” In the times they had known each other, only a few random moments had they shared that were exactly the same.
“Yeah,” Sealla yawned again, “I take it you did too. Did it wake up Rushton?” The man she spoke of was the male counterpart for the woman on the other end of the line. Her partner.
“Yep, but at least he didn’t snore through it.”
“Hey I’m glad Accutio is still asleep! I’m sick of annoying him with my dreams.” Indeed she had many before, and in the past, he had woken up from them, but now he was getting used to them, or so it seemed.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” was the last reply before the beeping of the line disconnecting began. The woman named Sealla let go of a ‘I’ll never get used to this’ sigh, and turned around to face the man she was speaking of. Without a word, her arms were around his bare waist which was followed by his own around her shoulders protectively. He knew of her dreams, and how much stress they caused, but nothing he could say would have helped. So the pair stayed silent for a few moments.
The water on the stove begun to whistle twenty-five minutes later, and the man just in pants poured three cups of coffee and one cup of green tea, the tea going to the woman who had called Sealla. She had mid-back length golden blonde hair and dark brown eyes sitting on the second slightly torn couch, clothed in a brown singlet and pink track-pants. Beside her with his arm around her shoulders was a man with ear-lobe length brown hair with a few highlights in the dimly lit room and darker eyes. After Accutio had sat down and handed his fiance a cup of coffee he yawned. “You know, we really need to find a cure for these dreams,” He muttered in a deep voice.
“Yeah, I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take,” replied Rushton which was accompanied by a mock-glare from his better-half.
“You don’t know the half of it, mate” retorted Sealla from across the floor on the other ripped couch. Taking a deep sip of her burningly hot coffee, she gave a sigh, which Drago, the other woman, had mirrored. “C’mon, let’s go out somewhere.” She was totally aware of the time, but Sealla needed to break away from the tense conversation, which still had only just begun. With the look from her Drago, it appeared she did too. They were both people to run from conflict or tense situations.
“The trail-rides aren’t open at this hour,” Accutio mock-growled with a smirk towards Rushton. Many times had they all gone riding together, and most times Accutio had ended up either hurt or embarrassed, and had grown to dislike the time.
Rushton laughed, stood, and bushed himself off from the spilt coffee. Had it been Drago, the blonde would have strolled into the bedroom and borrowed a piece of Sealla’s clothing without another word, but there was no way her other half was going to go out in ladies clothing… not for a second time. Disappearing and then reappearing next to the standing man, Accutio handed him a pair of black pants, freshly ironed. “Thanks,” said Rushton with an appreciative glance.
Cleanly clothed and crisply cool, the four of them walked out into the lit streets, eyes scanning the area. The four of them needed to do something to get their minds off that night, and so rounded a corner to draw closer to the local ice-skating rink. Their boots on with blades under, and they were off onto the ice, side by side. The black-haired woman spun around to skate backwards, facing Accutio with a grin whilst Drago sped off around in precise circles, Rushton following close behind.
A few kisses were planted softly onto Accutio’s cheek by his fiance as she circled around him, and after about two hours of racing and relaxing, the four of them called a break and stepped off the ice. Despite the early morning, the rink was always open. Huddled around a circular table with a snowman figure in the middle, Rushton, Sealla and Accutio munched on different kinds of sandwiches as Drago skimmed over to the female toilets. Just as she had pulled the door open, it smacked into her with great force to reveal five figures chuckling. Rushton quickly raced to her side and pulled her up gently, glaring at the five people.
But once they realised who they had hit, a slightly scared expression covered all of them. It was the two pairs’ friends. The first who had bustled the door open was around 5’9’’ with spiked blonde hair and icy blue eyes, a guilt look stricken over him; Stratnis. Next behind him was another man slightly taller than him with shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes with a little chuckle; Scyth. Behind Scyth was a shorter man with a slightly Gothic look with the same length hair of a black colour and dark hazel eyes; Foster. And last, holding a woman -with shoulder-length reddish-blonde hair in pigtails and blue eyes- was yet another man at around 6 foot tall with spiked almost black hair and mixed eyes; Pyro and Flit.
“You ‘right, Drago?” asked the almost cowering Stratnis. But that was all that could be said as Sealla and Accutio made it over to them. Accutio sniggered a little towards them, which was followed by an explosion from that same room, sending the nine of them flying onto the ice. Blood seeping from Sealla’s head, she was knocked out on the impact, along with Scyth. The first thing that anyone had done was climb to their feet and discover the two of them out cold, which was done by Accutio who gently lifted his fiance into his arms.
After checking that his girlfriend was okay, Pyro hauled Scyth over his shoulders, and lead everyone off the ice shakily. Fire had lit the building, and accusing glares were sent to the five who had so quickly emerged from the ladies’ toilets. But none of them said anything, and once they were off the rink, Drago yelled “What the hell did you do?” at the five people, excluding Scyth who was still not coming-to.
“We didn’t do that!” replied Stratnis, gesturing straight at the fire. They all slid the accusations aside for the moment, and got outside safely, still with Sealla and Scyth knocked out. The only other person that had exited the building into the crisp morning air was another woman with long curly brown hair and grey eyes with a flickering smile filled with worry.
“Are you all okay?” asked Siberia, the woman who had come out, bustling around the little group, checking each of them. She stopped at Scyth and waved a little tube around his nose, and he blinked awake, coughing and spluttering. “You didn’t do that, did you?” She knew all too well what sort of pranksters they were, and didn’t put it past them to set fire to a building.
“Yes, Siberia, we’re really going to send ourselves flying from an explosion!” snapped Foster sarcastically after rubbing his head with clenched eyes. This Siberia ignored. With a groan, Sealla came around, rubbing her eyes too as Accutio caressed her hair. Taking note of the wound on her head, he growled inwardly and stalked around behind the building with Foster close on his heel.
------------------------------------------------------------------
-Chapter One-
Crashes and dull clunks of colliding antlers resounded throughout the meadow at the brink of night. Well-aimed pushes and shoves evened themselves between the two mighty elk, battling together for pride. Not once did either pair of eyes leave the other’s, but with one quick jab of unlocked antlers, the slightly larger one had the other onto the ground. Then there was a second to spare before the pain. Two fur-covered antlers had speared the side of the fallen elk, the cry echoing all around.
Bolting upright from under her covers, the woman let out a gasp, sweat mingling with her curtaining black hair. Both her pupils were dilated in a very shocked, hazed fashion, but after a few rushed glances around the darkened room, her memory came back to her. She was under a black mink blanket, and snoring beside her was a man with short, messily spiked mousy brown hair with an arm draped across her stomach. Their room, through what she could make out in the darkness, was well kept, but still with the occasional piece of clothing randomly draped somewhere.
She ran a pressed hand over her forehead, sliding her fingers through the fringe of her hair, and ran it down the back of her head. Sweat covered her body, which slowly began to cool her off. Once her breathing had calmed itself, she lifted the arm from over her waist under the covers and climbed out of the bed, slipping the purple moccasins onto her feet.
Scuffing her way through the darkness, an instinctive hand snaked its way over her stomach. No one but herself knew what little thing was contained inside. Eventually after a few rooms of passing the other hand gripped the fridge door and pulled it open, the sterile light pouring onto her thinly covered form. With a sigh, the door closed when she was out of the room, sliding back into the bed. It didn’t matter how much of a fuss she made, because he wouldn’t wake from anything, and hadn’t so far.
And thankfully, he still didn’t when the phone rang, back in the kitchen. She dragged herself from the bedroom again and picked up the handset. “Hello?” she yawned. Glancing down at her watch for a spit second, it pointed to two thirty-eight.
“Were you asleep?” spoke a panicked female voice, slightly higher than her own.
“No… I was, but that was before you called.” The hand that draped over her stomach lifted to scratch the back of her head. She recognised the voice to be a childhood, close friend; two years older than her.
The voice on the other end of the line was a lot more awake than herself, but still held the tired tone, “I had a dream, did you?” In the times they had known each other, only a few random moments had they shared that were exactly the same.
“Yeah,” Sealla yawned again, “I take it you did too. Did it wake up Rushton?” The man she spoke of was the male counterpart for the woman on the other end of the line. Her partner.
“Yep, but at least he didn’t snore through it.”
“Hey I’m glad Accutio is still asleep! I’m sick of annoying him with my dreams.” Indeed she had many before, and in the past, he had woken up from them, but now he was getting used to them, or so it seemed.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” was the last reply before the beeping of the line disconnecting began. The woman named Sealla let go of a ‘I’ll never get used to this’ sigh, and turned around to face the man she was speaking of. Without a word, her arms were around his bare waist which was followed by his own around her shoulders protectively. He knew of her dreams, and how much stress they caused, but nothing he could say would have helped. So the pair stayed silent for a few moments.
------------------------------------------------------------------
The water on the stove begun to whistle twenty-five minutes later, and the man just in pants poured three cups of coffee and one cup of green tea, the tea going to the woman who had called Sealla. She had mid-back length golden blonde hair and dark brown eyes sitting on the second slightly torn couch, clothed in a brown singlet and pink track-pants. Beside her with his arm around her shoulders was a man with ear-lobe length brown hair with a few highlights in the dimly lit room and darker eyes. After Accutio had sat down and handed his fiance a cup of coffee he yawned. “You know, we really need to find a cure for these dreams,” He muttered in a deep voice.
“Yeah, I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take,” replied Rushton which was accompanied by a mock-glare from his better-half.
“You don’t know the half of it, mate” retorted Sealla from across the floor on the other ripped couch. Taking a deep sip of her burningly hot coffee, she gave a sigh, which Drago, the other woman, had mirrored. “C’mon, let’s go out somewhere.” She was totally aware of the time, but Sealla needed to break away from the tense conversation, which still had only just begun. With the look from her Drago, it appeared she did too. They were both people to run from conflict or tense situations.
“The trail-rides aren’t open at this hour,” Accutio mock-growled with a smirk towards Rushton. Many times had they all gone riding together, and most times Accutio had ended up either hurt or embarrassed, and had grown to dislike the time.
Rushton laughed, stood, and bushed himself off from the spilt coffee. Had it been Drago, the blonde would have strolled into the bedroom and borrowed a piece of Sealla’s clothing without another word, but there was no way her other half was going to go out in ladies clothing… not for a second time. Disappearing and then reappearing next to the standing man, Accutio handed him a pair of black pants, freshly ironed. “Thanks,” said Rushton with an appreciative glance.
Cleanly clothed and crisply cool, the four of them walked out into the lit streets, eyes scanning the area. The four of them needed to do something to get their minds off that night, and so rounded a corner to draw closer to the local ice-skating rink. Their boots on with blades under, and they were off onto the ice, side by side. The black-haired woman spun around to skate backwards, facing Accutio with a grin whilst Drago sped off around in precise circles, Rushton following close behind.
A few kisses were planted softly onto Accutio’s cheek by his fiance as she circled around him, and after about two hours of racing and relaxing, the four of them called a break and stepped off the ice. Despite the early morning, the rink was always open. Huddled around a circular table with a snowman figure in the middle, Rushton, Sealla and Accutio munched on different kinds of sandwiches as Drago skimmed over to the female toilets. Just as she had pulled the door open, it smacked into her with great force to reveal five figures chuckling. Rushton quickly raced to her side and pulled her up gently, glaring at the five people.
But once they realised who they had hit, a slightly scared expression covered all of them. It was the two pairs’ friends. The first who had bustled the door open was around 5’9’’ with spiked blonde hair and icy blue eyes, a guilt look stricken over him; Stratnis. Next behind him was another man slightly taller than him with shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes with a little chuckle; Scyth. Behind Scyth was a shorter man with a slightly Gothic look with the same length hair of a black colour and dark hazel eyes; Foster. And last, holding a woman -with shoulder-length reddish-blonde hair in pigtails and blue eyes- was yet another man at around 6 foot tall with spiked almost black hair and mixed eyes; Pyro and Flit.
“You ‘right, Drago?” asked the almost cowering Stratnis. But that was all that could be said as Sealla and Accutio made it over to them. Accutio sniggered a little towards them, which was followed by an explosion from that same room, sending the nine of them flying onto the ice. Blood seeping from Sealla’s head, she was knocked out on the impact, along with Scyth. The first thing that anyone had done was climb to their feet and discover the two of them out cold, which was done by Accutio who gently lifted his fiance into his arms.
After checking that his girlfriend was okay, Pyro hauled Scyth over his shoulders, and lead everyone off the ice shakily. Fire had lit the building, and accusing glares were sent to the five who had so quickly emerged from the ladies’ toilets. But none of them said anything, and once they were off the rink, Drago yelled “What the hell did you do?” at the five people, excluding Scyth who was still not coming-to.
“We didn’t do that!” replied Stratnis, gesturing straight at the fire. They all slid the accusations aside for the moment, and got outside safely, still with Sealla and Scyth knocked out. The only other person that had exited the building into the crisp morning air was another woman with long curly brown hair and grey eyes with a flickering smile filled with worry.
“Are you all okay?” asked Siberia, the woman who had come out, bustling around the little group, checking each of them. She stopped at Scyth and waved a little tube around his nose, and he blinked awake, coughing and spluttering. “You didn’t do that, did you?” She knew all too well what sort of pranksters they were, and didn’t put it past them to set fire to a building.
“Yes, Siberia, we’re really going to send ourselves flying from an explosion!” snapped Foster sarcastically after rubbing his head with clenched eyes. This Siberia ignored. With a groan, Sealla came around, rubbing her eyes too as Accutio caressed her hair. Taking note of the wound on her head, he growled inwardly and stalked around behind the building with Foster close on his heel.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Keep writing.
... 
~
