Ksi

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Introduction

She stood at attention before the jeering men, her breath coming hard and fast. He hadn't been easy on her during the spectacle, but she'd acquitted herself pretty damn well, considering. Not that many of the men seemed to think so. Their eyes were full of malice, scorn and disgust - she definitely hadn't made many friends by demanding the match, but it was the only way she could think of at the time to make as big a splash as possible. And a splash was needed if she was going to be considered an equal in any way. Besides, it never hurt to let them see her as capable of taking care of herself - even if the mutilation of her body would work to discourage any advances; wanted or not.

The Master stood tall, watching with his ever-emotionless features. She couldn't read him - didn't know how he felt about being given charge of the 'woman'. Not that she really counted as one after all that had been done to her in the past few weeks. The Lords had insisted on it, demanding sacrifice after sacrifice so that she wasn't a 'distraction' to the men. So she was more 'manly'.

No wonder the men looked at her with disgust - she could barely look at herself either. Once long hair was cut short, sheared almost to the scalp. Her breasts had been removed completely, leaving her chest sore and aching - still not completely recovered from the operation that had left her parents unable to look at her without pity and sorrow in their eyes. And her womanhood...

She shifted slightly, trying to ignore the ache between her legs from where stitches had recently been removed, leaving the skin pink and scarred. It had been a marvel of medicine, the operation that removed her womb and sealed the passage completely. No children for her. No intercourse. No love for the woman who was not.

Sighing softly she met the Master's eye, waiting for his judgement. He grunted after a long moment and made a motion with his hand that she took to mean that he approved. Jester, his aide and one of the ugliest of men in the camp, strode forward and smacked her full across the face. The force threw her to the ground and she lay there for a moment, stunned.

"Get your stuff into the Den, worm. You've got a lot of catching up to do."

His voice matched his warped features, gravelly and dark, jumping in pitch and cracking. He sneered at her as she peered up, wondering whether to jump up and obey immediately or see if he was going to say anything else. He took a half-step towards her, hand raised and she leapt up, running for her small pack of belongings before he could do more than threaten another bone-shaking slap.

"Don't think you're going to get it easy just because you're a girl! You're gonna work hard, !"

She quickly blinked back tears - all of her sacrifices meant naught if they only ever saw her as a woman - and took a deep breath, struggling to regain her composure so they wouldn't see. Weakness would see her become prey. Weakness would see them proven right. Weakness would mean that everything she gave up to be here meant nothing.

Standing, she lifted her chin proudly, sent a glare at the man who dared to mock her pain and strode off towards the Den - a ramshackle group of tents the men would sleep in. As she walked she could hear mocking voices behind her, harsh whispers following them and a hideous voice, pitched to be heard. His words sent shivers down her stiffened spine.

"That, men, was your lovely female companion, Lady Eloise of Gardia. Make sure you all give her a very warm welcome."

Huh... Not sure i like this, not gonna lie... But it is rather compelling, and creepy.

I'm super intrigued. *grabs popcorn*

Well, I wasn't planning to follow that story, but I guess I could give it a go~ ^.^

Complicated

Ducking behind the canvas flap she sighed in relief. The men's eyes were blocked from view and she had to force herself to take a deep breath instead of letting the low moan of emotional pain escape her. Her whole body ached - not just from the beating she'd taken at the Master's hands just before. Still recovering from the various operations, she was far from her best, though she knew she'd be healed up sooner if she'd kept her mouth shut and not issued the challenge.

Gods, she was an idiot. It hadn't bought her any of the admiration or acceptance she'd hoped and now she'd not only been made a mockery of by the second in command, but the men had seen her flattened by a single blow - undoing all of the hard work the challenge may have won her. In their eyes she was weak. Weak and a woman.

Focussing on that thought, she growled. She couldn't afford to fall apart now - not when she was so close to her hearts' desire. She just had to make it through the training in one piece and she'd be set - no longer under anyone's power but her own and the King's - and the chances of him calling her to action were slim at best. Finally she'd be free to do as she wished without being denied her rights just because she was a woman. No, in the eyes of the law she would be a soldier and that made all the difference in the world.

With a slight smile she looked around the darkened tent. It was large - in truth not one, but many tents tied together to create a large, sprawling complex of canvas. Even in the mid-day sun it was dark, largely due to the towering oak under and around which it was pitched. It was filled with tied bedrolls and small packs, all strewn around the edges in small piles.

She'd been informed that each pile represented a brotherhood - the men you would share your life with during training. You had their backs and they, supposedly, had yours. She'd not yet been assigned a brotherhood. In fact, she wasn't sure that she would be assigned one - it was miracle enough that she'd been allowed to take part in the training.

Slowly she crept around the edges of the tent, careful not to dislodge anyone's packs, until she reached a small, empty nook in corner more shadowed than most. Perhaps if she set her things there they wouldn't be noticed and, hopefully, would remain unmolested for at least a little while. She held no illusions that her things would fall under the rules of 'no touch'. She doubted she'd remain under those rules for long, either, but it was worth it, she told herself.

It was worth it, even if it was going to be a bit more complicated than she'd first imagined.

I'd be very interested to see where you take this, if you decide to stick with it.

Making History

I'm standing alone at the edge of the world, watching as stars fade and fall into the darkness that is forever. Beyond this crumbling cliff lies the hopes and dreams of humanity - an expanse of time wasted dreaming instead of living.

Small baubles of light float up from the darkness, swaying as though a breeze played through them. There is no wind in this place, no sound or scent being carried across the bleak blankness ahead. Just lights, slowly lifting into the darkened sky above. Wishes that were never answered and daydreams that were never shared, pulsing pale against the backdrop of blackness.

I'm here because she wished it; because she begged me to come to this forsaken place and return to it the dream she made null. I'm here because she holds my heart in her fragile hands, and when she asks I obey. I'm here because our love wasn't strong enough to keep me from leaving, because our hopes were not enough to make me stay.

I reach into the bag at my hip; a small, tattered thing made of leather, created from death - an apt container for a dream sentenced to never be. Inside is a dream, softly glowing as I cup carefully in the rough palms of my hands. It feels non-existent and the only indication that I am holding anything is a slight numbness in my skin where the light touches me. This glowing orb was a dream among dreams, shared by she and I for most of our childhood - now worthless to the both of us.

It spins lightly in my grasp, and as I stare into it I can almost make out figures - images of what should and could and would have been if I'd only moved faster. If she'd only waited just a little longer. If only he hadn't been.

No. It doesn't help to think like that.

I tear my eyes away from those teasing images, so faint and light and cruel, and instead focus on the all-consuming dark ahead. When I release this precious wish into that darkness there will be no reclaiming it; no calling it back from the edge. It will be lost to me forever; lost to us.

I stand alone at the edge of the world and consider the history I will unmake with just one gesture and the new history that will be made in its place. I stand alone and consider the edge of the world and the history she makes now, without me by her side. The history her children will make without me as their father. The histories made without the wishes and dreams that slowly dance in the shadows of the end of time.

I stand alone and make a wish as I release an old dream to the void.

And then I stand.

Alone.

At the end of the world, dreams dance.

Rivalry

I am sprung from the daughters of the morning star.

She is born of the daughters of the night.

Together we battle to death, beyond death and into eternal glory.

Raven skin and eyes of gold, flaxen locks twined with fiery robes, I.

She of silver lock, darkest eyes, starlit raiment and skin of wine.

Together we contrast.

Strike.

Bend our wills against the other.

Together we flare to life and break apart.

The everlasting dance of two beings, immortal and destined.

Never to leave the other, our battle stretching beyond the farthest stars.

I love

She loves

I loathe

She loathes

Caught in the dance of lust and disgust

Hate and love

Tender and Harsh

We dance across the skies lit by light and dark

Stars fade into death, light drains from the heavens as we battle

Never ceasing the endless struggle

Never ceding the win

Never being where we most wish to be

So we do what we can to stay within reach

A feint

A stab

A twirl

Laughing and screaming at each other until the noise means less than nothing

only when our eyes lock are we free to express

that wild desire

yet apart forever are we

consumed by what we are become