WenRant3

Title: WenInterview

Author: Minerva Wu

Writing: Interview

Word Count: 2156

Notice: This interview does not actually exist because Wen is never interviewed at any point and even if he did he would probably make up a bunch of fluff and that would be the most cooperative he would be. Unless it was Maple-Ann. But assuming that he would cooperate with a random interviewer and be very honest, then this would be somewhat it would sound like.

For this I have chosen Peony Landernorm as the interviewer because she made it to the character list but I feel she's not been developed quite enough. So...she's now a journalism major, interviewing Wen for whatever reason. At the time of this nonexistent but envisioned interview, Wen would be 19 years old, some time after his third visit to the Heart of All Realms and his reunion with his family.

(Don't get it? It'll be explained hopefully)

Peony Landernorm (INTERVIEWER): Hello! First, could I have you spell your name?

Wisconsin (Wen) Tynan (INTERVIEWEE): That would be Wisconsin, W-E-X-K-W-A-N-X-Y-M, Tynan, D-I-N-A-M.

Peony: ...Haha, really funny.

Wen: mhm. [laughs] It's W-I-S-C-O-N-S-I-N and T-Y-N-A-N. But really, just call me Wen.

Peony: Thank you. And you are a pilot by trade?

Wen: Sure.

Peony: ...I suppose it can be a bit complicated. Why don't you tell us about your experience with the assassins on Earth?

Wen: Why don't you tell me about what you know about me first?

Peony: Well...I obtained a file on you from the agency in question and updated it later by various sources.

Wen: Well, obviously that file didn't tell you that mind-reading abilities aren't my forte. What's in that file?

Peony: Hrm. Let's just start general then. I understand most of your life was pretty solitary. Could you describe your acquaintances?

Wen: [pause]. You're right on that part; most of my life I spent on my own. [pause]. I don't remember anyone from before I was abducted, except this vague lady that I was getting milk for or something. Mrs. Samson I think. There was the short german girl I helped with her revolution, but I didn't really consider her a friend.

I flew the assassin Liam Osborne Wreke the most in my missions, but I didn't really like him. How do I describe him...stupid, arrogant...low tolerance for spinning...that's about it.

And that covers about the first 14 years of my life.

Peony: What about Violet?

Wen: Violet--oh. I met her later.

Peony: Oh! I was under the impression you met her briefly during one of your missions near Aldenzeve.

Wen: [thinks] no, no, damn, you're right! Yea, I met her and her brother Wyoming or something.

Peony: Utah.

Wen: I said Wyoming or something. Key word something. Anyways. The Kysons. And his girlfriend. Gillian Summers. I remember her. Every time I felt like someone was being a bitch or life was shitty I'd think of her and say, "Hey, at least you're not like her." She puts up with all this shit every day and doesn't have a clue what to do about it and ends up deluding herself. Sad really.

Peony: So, you feel pity for her?

Wen: Meh. Something between pity and scorn.

Peony: Ok then. What about after you found the first portal?

Wen: Well, I met Erin and Dennis of course. Erin Jenevive. Dennis Runth. They were my mentors. It wasn't too hard getting used to life with them either. They were assassins too and Erin's life is pretty similar to mine. We were both kidnapped as kids and trained to be deadly. And we're both Leth's. 'Course I didn't know until she recognized it and started training me. I still think it's destiny that we all met.

Peony: You have plans to meet up with them again now that you have directions to find them?

Wen: Yea. I also have a few things Erin wanted. From the Heart of All Realms. Yea.

Peony: Speaking of the Heart of All Realms, you found it quite a few times, didn't you?

Wen: More like accidentally stumbled upon, but yeah

Peony: When exactly were these times and what did you request from the Master each time?

Wen: The first time from earth, when I was about 14 and a half. I didn't exactly have anything I really wanted, so I just told her to close the damn portal and get me out of there. I ended up in Idyllen and ran into it again at 16, after I was separated from Erin and Dennis in a battle. I thought I would be able to find them again so I asked for Erin's name before she was kidnapped and mine as well. When I got back though, I couldn't find them and I ended up with that crazy group of cursed, asinine dolts. We finally succeeded last year. That was the only time I really "found" it. And I asked for my directions of course.

Peony: If they were "crazy, cursed and asinine dolts", why did you join their quest?

Wen: To be honest I didn't want to at first. But as we talked about it I figured I didn't have anywhere else to go and I was actually pretty curious where all those fools would end up. Something like that. And it promised me a chance to do what I knew best: flying and fighting.

Peony: So do you think these "dolts" count as your friends now?

Wen: Unfortunately, yes.

Peony: Unfortunately?

Wen: Five is five too many.

Peony:... Well, you admitted they were your friends already. Could you give me your impressions of them, then and now?

Wen: Yea. How do I start? Well, my first impression of Jing Long was a crazed Shadow chasing him. He seemed a bit clueless, but kinda "cute," as Dennis would say. He's really not that bad. He's really compassionate, and though I think that's more of a weakness, he kind of held the group together. Which I don't exactly approve of, but I guess it was good anyways.

Kenneth Rizea was the reason we started the damn quest in the first place. His mom had gone missing or something. Um...I didn't really think too much about him at first. He's a great artist, and no good with aircrafts and he sucks at dodging enemy fire. Really sucks. That's all I'm going to say.

Violet next. I didn't remember her at first, but it didn't matter because she didn't either. She was going through a bit of a memory crisis so I thought--rightfully too--that she was insane. But she was pretty helpful at the end. Pretty nice.

Um...

Peony: Maple-Ann Lewis?

Wen: Ah. Well. My first impression of her was amused irritation because she seemed so nice and gentle and stuff. But she's cool. Really.

Lastly, Archangel--I believe she's called Aeria now or something? Anyways, she introduced herself as The Lady Archangel. Again, amused irritation. She had all these airs about who everyone was and who she was and what not, but she was pretty easily outwitted. It's kinda funny too. She's not too bad. Too damn proud for her own good though.

Peony: And who among them would you think is your closest friend, if you had one?

Wen: Um..[pause, thinks, then laughs.] I'd say Kenneth. He's great to talk to or not talk to.

Peony: And how would you describe your relationship with Maple-Ann?

Wen: Friends. Good friends. I still visit her at Cieonna Halls every so often and she calls me up some evenings.

Peony: Nothing...more serious?

Wen: Your subtlety is worse than my healing ability, Miss Landernorm. No, there's nothing "more serious" going on between us.

Peony: I see... I am correct that you admire her though?

Wen: Yea. What's wrong with that? She can spit fire and heal someone at the same time, raze an army in 16 seconds flat and take care of herself. That’s almost better than me.

Peony:...

Wen: If you're trying to illicit a confession from me, you're not going to get it. Next question.

Peony: Very well. On the subject of your birth family, what do you think of them?

Wen: [laughs] My twin nothing like me. Really.

Peony:...in what regard?

Wen: She's fat.

Peony: [flinches]

Wen: But I know what you mean. She's a bit cowardly, but she's got some traits I think makes sense for her. Not for me, of course, but I can sympathize. [shrug] Somewhat.

Peony: What kind of traits?

Wen: Loyalty, I guess.

Peony: What about your parents and cousin?

Wen: My mom's so fucking cool! [laughs] But really. Evenette's misunderstood, but she's awesome. Really chill. Nem's a bit weird, but I like him enough. He's a bit of a treehugger though I think. Something along those lines. I'm glad they don't live together.

Peony: Your cousin Veraline Suis takes after your father though; what do you think of her?

Wen: I seriously think Vera was born in the wrong family or something. She's not a witch I guess, but her soul-sending abilities are pretty sweet. Scary too. And her mean streak takes after Evenette's.

Peony: You call your parents my name?

Wen: Well, Nem insists on it. Evvy and Vera call him Nem too. And Evenette just sounds better than "mom" or something. She doesn't seem the mom type.

Peony: Have you ever considered it might just be because you're unaccustomed to it?

Wen: ...Do you know what would happen to me if I called Evenette "mom"?

Peony: Do I want to?

Wen: Her dualcasting's stronger than Evvy's... and that's saying something.

Peony:...I think I'll pass.

Wem: Thought so.

Peony: [chuckles] Now, to pull away from the people in your life--

Wen: Finally.

Peony: --[laughs]. What do you think your favorite ship model would be?

Wen: Uh...I've been with my current one so long I think I'd have to say that one. A J16. With major upgrades. Back in the assassin days though, I liked the J24 as well. Sexy and fast. Not too shabby either; it's machines guns are decent but it needs more rockets. Something like the K60. But that's a bit fat for my style. The best part about the K60 is the swivel seat though. That thing's so fun to play with.

Peony:...A swivel seat?

Wen: [nods, grins]

Peony: I'll take your word for it, I suppose. And your favorite weapon?

Wen: Besides anything on my ship?

Peony: Yes.

Wen: My leth blade. It's this short knife thing that doesn't look too impressive, but I can shoot the blade out of the hilt as well. Really useful. I'm pretty proud of it. Of course, cleaning it out’s a fucking pain, but usually I can take care of my opponent within five blades.

Peony: What weapon did you use for melee combat before you built it?

Wen: Mostly handguns, any kind I can get my hands on. I’m a pretty accurate shot, if I do say so myself, so I had a few knives on me too.

Peony: Did you learn any other weapons during training?

Wen: Oh sure. I had a bit of a height advantage over most of the other kids my age, but I usually preferred longer-ranger weapons like staff, chain, mace. Didn’t like it too much out of training though. Too bulky to carry around and the chains were too clunky. I made a fair sniper as well, but again, too big.

Peony: Small and effective, I see.

Wen: Something like that.

Peony: I think that sums up what I wanted to ask. Do you have any sources I could go to for additional information?

Wen: Wait, what was your job again?

Peony:..I’m a journalist.

Wen: Professional lawful stalker, right, thought so. I’ll leave you to your own devices then. Hopefully your snooping tricks are up to the task.

Peony: [laughs] I understand. Anything else you’d like to add then?

Wen: Yea. This interview took so damned long I was able to think of about 98 variations of ways to kill you, even with all my talking.

Peony: [raises an eyebrow] Only 98?

Wen: That’s not including the 40-some ways involving my ship outside.

Peony: Well, you don’t exactly have access to your ship so they don’t count. 98 is pretty sad.

Wen: Actually, [pulls out a gadget from his pocket]

Peony: Never mind. Even so though. 138 isn’t too many ways. I was expecting at least 200.

Wen: [shrug] Sorry to disappoint.

Peony: You should be.

Wen: Any one of them would be more than sufficient though. And if I combined a few of them that’d be easily over 200.

Peony: On second thought, good job.

Wen: But yea, 138 is pretty lame for me.

Artist's Note: Hello there and welcome to the third and final edition of the little WenArch. Hope you enjoyed it!

Well..there goes my buffer of stories. That's quite ok though because the rules of this site only say 500+ words per week of whatever and I have a few other 500 word things that I could post that aren't exactly stories.

On life: College sucks. It's week one and I'm already neck-high in work. I have so much to do and even more that I want to do.

Comments? Questions? Please Read and Review! Thank you very much! :)

~Minerva Wu

WenRant2

Title: Trading Places

Author: SilverInk

Writing: excerpt/ short?

Word count: 1303

To say Wen was pissed off was an understatement. Yet to say that he was extremely infuriated was hyperbole. It simply wasn't the boy pilot's nature to get worked up about anything.

—-

“Mr. Tynan, didn’t you ever have to submit reports for missions in your old job? Reports that include essays and diagrams? Now get to work.”

The black-haired boy rolled his eyes. “No, sir,” he said, leaning back and sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’m a pilot. I take the assassin to the damn place and then I take the bitches back when they’re done. No paperwork involved.”

“Watch your language, young man. What would your mother think?”

“She’d be very damn proud of me, sir. Actually, I think I’m disappointing her a bit—”

“There you go.”

“—By not blowing this shithole up.”

The teacher—not to mention most of the students, turned around to stare at him. The transfer student smirked.

“Is this the way your father taught you to behave, Wen?”

“You assume I grew up with him. You assume wrong.”

“In any case,” the substitute said stuffily, “You signed up for this program so you should do your best to do well in it. The rest of you, back to work.”

—-

It started as a request from one of those crazy people that I went on that one crazy mission to find some girl that had wandered off in search of the Heart of All Realms. Kenneth, yea. I always knew it’d be a bad thing to have a lot of friends.

Five is five too many.

Anyways, so when the five of us got back from our search with Kenneth’s mom—that’s who we were searching for—we all split ways again, thank goodness. I had directions to find Erin and Dennis again and the others had whatever the heck they wanted. That was my third time in the Heart of All Realms—the first two times I found it was by accident—and hopefully my last. Maple-Ann Lewis gave me her contact information and Jing Long invited me to stay with him. That wacky whatever-the-heck-her-species-is went off without a word. Violet the phantom girl had stayed behind—for a while at least-- as a part of a deal with Eria Briallen, the strange Keeper of the Heart of All Realms.

And then Kenneth came up to me and asked if I would mind switching places with him for a few days.

Told you it’d be a stupid idea.

—-

“Here’s an assignment our guest might enjoy,” the substitute said pointedly. “Depict a battlefield, if you would.”

The entire class grumbled and one student raised his hand. “Sir, we’re supposed to be working with watercolors—”

“Then draw a battlefield with watercolors.”

“—On our self-portraits.”

“Well, think of this as a break then,” the substitute insisted petulantly. “Use anything you like. Just take a break.”

A few students grumbled and others cleaned up reluctantly. The girl next to Wen cleaned the water in her glass with a spell.

Wen pulled out a palm-sized gadget and within a few clicks he’d found a famous picture of a battlefield. Two sparks jumped from his fingers and he took the picture off the hologram screen and transferred it to the canvas. When the substitute came around, he was leaning back in his chair, boots flamboyantly on the table, playing a game on his minicomputer.

“Mr. Tynan.”

“Wisconsin’s fine” He didn’t look up from blowing a digital ship into splinters.

“There will be no game-playing in class.”

“Game-playing?” he looked up innocently and set his feet down. “But sir, I’m not playing. I’m making. Are you to say that this class doesn’t embrace the digital arts and game design?”

The teacher frowned. Wen smirked. “And I’m finished with the assignment anyways.”

“A fair replica of another artist’s painting I grant.”—Wen raised an eyebrow— “But there is to be none of this nonsense. Save your fascination for video games for after class.”

To everyone’s relief, the bell chose that moment to ring and the class filed out, some tossing glares at their temporary classmate, other muttering about the poor substitute teacher. After clearing the canvas, Wen simply swung his jacket over his shoulder and followed the others.

—

Let’s see: If a university asks you —pays you—to paint a mural for their school when you’re freaking 10, it’s probably a good idea for you to stick to painting and drawing and all that artsy-craftsy stuff. And if you can fly any odd warship by the time you’re 18, it’s probably a good idea to stick to flying warships.

---

“I heard you were a cocky little brat today” a voice said behind him. “Again.”

Wen whirled, a hand reaching for his pocket when he recognized the figure. His expression faded into a pleasant smile and he approached the girl leaning against the wall. “What’re you doing here? Kenneth’s done?”

“Just say it. You’re thrilled to see me.”

He only raised an eyebrow at her. “Sure. About as thrilled as I was to take that dumb art class for Kenneth.”

“You must have been pretty excited to learn to draw then.”

“Yup.”

“How was it?”

“Teacher didn’t like me. Took a vacation. Substitute liked me even less.” I think I boosted Kenneth’s grade though.”

It was Maple-Ann’s turn to quirk an eye.

“By a few negative points I mean,” Wen clarified with a shrug.

Maple-Ann laughed as they picked their way over to where a badly-beaten aircraft stood in the center of the field before stopping. She leaned against the ship’s flank, catching her breath. A few of the straggling art students shot her queer looks and she just laughed at them. “Scat!” she commanded, her expression still maniacal. When they didn’t heed her, her lips turned devilishly up again and she raised a hand. If they had been paying close attention, they would have seen a red spark dance over her fingers before setting the hand aglow. A half-second later, the section of the field they were on exploded, sending the offending students flying into the air.

“Careful now, Maple. If one of those bodies land on my ship you’ll be the one cleaning it up.”

She laughed and sent another spark into the air, catching her victims in little white bubbles. By the time they landed on the school roof, they were without a scratch or drop of blood and very much alive. The gruesome little mage turned to her fighter friend with an evil smirk. “Their nerves’ll be a little racked up but they’re fine, dear. I’m surprised you care though.”

He eyed her for a second. “I’m usually a little cleaner with my kills.”

“It’s not as fun, dearest. Don’t you like explosions?”

They both laughed at this one, and another voice approached them.

“Wen likes explosions all right. Really likes explosions.”

“Hiya Kenneth. Wen here was just complaining about polishing his little baby. Looks like he’ll have to be cleaning up anyways,” Maple noted with a smirk. “Where’d you go? A volcano?”

Kenneth scoffed as Wen inspected the belly of the ship. “I wish. I just ran through his “training module” on the mountains.”

“Well,” the bad artist said, sitting on the floor and letting his legs hang off the edge, “You did pretty well for a first time flyer. The hard range, one, right? The one with the giant birds and the gunners and bombs?”

“I tried out the one labeled ‘easy’ on your map.”

Wen’s expression froze and Maple backed away, giggling. “Good work little Kenneth. Don’t worry, I’ll attend your funeral.”

—

On second thought, just don’t let strange people fly your ship. Even if they’re supervised by a destructive little witch.

Artist's Note: :) Part two of three of the little Wen-arch.

Anyways....I think I've gotten over the whole putting my name on the internet. But SilverInk stands as my alias for now. Anwyays..I also got over the put-the-character's-surname-in-every piece thing :)

Please Read and Review!

~Silverpaw

WenRant 1

Title: The Start of the Journey to the Heart of All Realms

Author: SilverInk

Writing: short scene/ excerpt of an unwritten story

Word Count: 2139

Note: If this were an actual full-blown story then this note wouldn't be here. Chronologically though, this scene would take place after three characters did battle with dark demonic figure known as a Shadow. The six characters are now at a mansion where they are given a mission.

First things first. Don't volunteer for missions with random strangers. Especially if one of them has a crazy Shadow stalking them. Not to mention the other dweebs are either idiots or pompous psychos. I'm serious. We were six kids attempting to embark on the most complicated mission I’d ever heard of.

—-

“I have no choice now, confined as I am to my home, but to ask you six to help me,” the rich man on the floating “wheel”chair said gravely. “My wife is missing, gone off to find a place few have ever returned from…the Heart of All Realms.”

“Do we have any clues, Mr. Jackson?” asked a boy with jagged ears and tanned brown skin.

“My son should be able to help you,” replied the man. A skinny boy with fair hair and a shy expression stepped up next to him. “I also have given Miss Violet Kyson here”—he pointed to the purple haired girl that looked like she had no idea what they were saying— “a bag of portals. They are all I have to help you, unfortunately.” Mr. Jackson then fell into a bout of coughing and quit the room, leaving the six alone.

Quiet fell over the hall. One boy put his feet on the table and his hands in his pocket. His expression was bitter but not hostile. Cody Jackson’s son stood nervously next to the boy who had spoken and who now spoke again: “Well…”

The pretty girl with red curls and a white skirt looking up, taking a cookie and breaking it into crumbles over her plate. Next to her, the purple-haired girl lifted an invisible teacup and drank. A winged girl with a black halo and black dress sat two seats away from purple-hair, staring stonily at the others.

“Erm.” Everyone whirled and turned to Mr. Jackson’s son except for the stony-faced girl, who simply turned her head slowly, like a statue. The boy faltered.

A few minutes of awkward silence later, jagged-ears said, probably over-enthusiastically, “Well, I’m Jing Long, last of the Tideborn, as far as I know. Sorry about the Shadow earlier.”

“That was your fault?” red curls asked, picking up another cookie.

“Erm, yea. I’m not quite sure what I did to anger him.” It was jagged-ear’s turn to look nervous. Curls nodded before pulverizing the cookie. Poor cookie. Another pause later, Ears fidgeted and turned to Jack’s son’s son. “So, what’s your name?”

“Kenneth,” the boy said quietly, as if he was afraid of answering wrong. The boy with his feet on the table rolled his eyes.

“Kenneth Jackson. Not a bad name.” Jing chuckled, which sounded strange for an 11 year old. “Beats Gold Dragon.”

“Rizea actually.”

“Huh?”

“Kenneth Rizea. It’s my mother’s surname.”

Boots-on-the-table suppressed a laugh and Curls asked the question on everyone’s mind: “Why did you take your mother’s surname?”

“It’s actually my grandmother’s,” he explained. “My mother adopted it because she didn’t have a surname. Both my sister and I took the Rizea name…at my father’s insistence.” He shrugged. “I know it’s confusing. I don’t get it myself all the time. But yea. I’m Kenneth Rizea.”

There was a pause as everyone took this in before purple-hair said, “Confusing, family of yours is.” She proceeded to introduce herself. “Me is Violet, of Kyson.” She turned to feet-on-the-table.

He made a face before replying. “Wisconsin.”

“Of Wisconsin?” Curls asked innocently. He gave her a funny look. “You mentioned you came from Earth.”

He shrugged. “Surname Tynan. You?”

“Lewis. Maple-Ann Lewis. I hail from Cieonna Halls though,” she said the last part with a smirk.

A silence again.

“You are all fools,” the last person suddenly said. Everyone faced her, but unlike little Kenneth, she did not falter under their gaze. “You toss such names around as if they were common.” She turned her hard gaze on the amicable Jing: “Gold Dragon is a name of promise if not yet known. It was a well-chosen name, yet you waste your life in foolishness, anger a Shadow and endanger your kind. You know you are the last of your species yet you have not more capacity for seriousness?”

She turned to Violet without stopping a beat: “Kyson! She may be some distant relative of yours, but the blood of Kerra Dusk, Lady of Darkness runs strong in your blood. You embody one of the few phantasmic people that walk this world with neither curse nor confine and yet you cannot even begin to understand the legends that surround your family.”

She bore down on the youngest of the group: “You are young, but are a cretin nonetheless for not knowing your own name. Your father chose Rizea for your sister and you because it holds power, more so than the name Jackson. Aurora Rizea is one of the Nine Houses, Master of the Carpet Eveline, and the legendary Traveler of the genesis times.

“And you—“ She whirled on Maple, who sat calmly, a half-crumpled cookie in her hands. “Reon Cieonna is another of the Nine Houses, Master of the Scarf Eveline, Storm-Keeper, Ghost-Ruler—do these titles mean nothing to you? You forsake your name and by extension your birth and power. You have no idea of the power kept by the Halls of Cieonna yet you would cast it aside for some unknown “Lewis”?” She sat in an indignant huff.

“Fools all. I should call myself one for associating myself with you.”

She stopped there, and sat with her eyes piercing into the “cretins”. Her harangue had left Kenneth in tears, Jing in guilty silence, and Violet in stunned confusion. Only Maple seemed unaffected, the half cookie still in her delicate fingers.

Maple set the cookie down untouched and re-pinned a curl smoothly before saying, “And whom might you be, so wise in the ways of our families and our names?”

“I am known only as The Lady Archangel,” came the stern reply. “I am the Servant on the Nine Houses themselves, and a force not to be reckoned with.”

Maple-Ann Lewis of Cieonna Halls evidently ignored that last part. She took a bite of the cookie thoughtfully and set it down again with a pleasant smile. “Good cookies,” she said briefly to Kenneth. “Better than the kind my sister bakes.”

To the force that had named herself The Lady Archangel: “Yes, my sister. Esthien Cieonna, who carries the burden of the Curse of Cieonna. The Curse, and the powers that come with it.” She took another bite of cookie and continued evenly, “Reon herself named me Lewis. I do not aspire for more than I am entitled to. I do not aspire my sister’s position as I am certain she should not aspire to mine. My name is very much appropriate to my person.” She paused again to finish the cookie, perhaps mostly for effect, and finished, “And whatever sources you relied are clearly incomplete.”

The Lady Archangel didn’t miss a beat: “Notwithstanding you have left the Halls though, Miss Lewis. Is the calling of one of the Lost of Cieonna Halls too difficult for you? Why else would you linger so far away from the Halls and dawdle time snacking on—on trinkets!” she waved her hands expressly at the pile of cookie crumbs and crumbles that had gathered on Maple’s plate. “You are—a halfwit!”

Evidently Maple had no answer for this, as she simply took another cookie and nibbled away nonchalantly. The forgotten boy with his boots on his empty plate abruptly moved, shrugging his hands from his pockets and crossing them over his chest.

“What about me? You don’t seem to have a problem with me.”

“Tynan is an obscure name,” the Lady dismissed. “You are an inconsequential speck in comparison to the history that your companions keep.”

“Am I?” He suppressed a sneer.

“Your name is unknown. I suggest you disengage yourself from this motley group before your name is tainted as well."

“Right. I don’t know my name.” He paused, and this time the sneer was unhidden. “But I know my relations.”

The Lady stared down at him with narrowed eyes. “As you should, you—“

“I was abducted when I was 4,” he said flatly. “And before then I lived in the streets. I never met my family.”

“Then how—“

“You may know them too.” He let that hang there for a moment before continuing. “Erin Jenevive. Know her name?”

He was met with silence.

“Didn’t think so. What about Nem Suis?”

“Suis,” Maple-Ann muttered.

“Veraline?” A pause. “Does Evangeline ring a bell?”

Maple snapped her head up, staring. Wen smiled. “Evangeline is my twin sister. I’m told we don’t look alike.”

“You don’t,” Maple said curtly, selecting another cookie from the few left.

“She has witch blood and I…another.” He withheld the information but Jing, the only other person besides Maple that had seen Wen fight earlier, supplied the information:

“A…warrior of the energy blade. What’s the word—“

Wen twisted his mouth and blinked. For a kid, the boy had caught on extraordinarily fast.

“A Leth,” the Lady breathed, half in scorn, half in disbelief.

The Leth shrugged. “Of course, no one besides this, what did you call her—this halfwit, has caught on yet what I mean. This must mean you, my good lady, are less than half-wit. Shall we say,” he paused, pretending to think, “A dimwit?”

Maple laughed aloud and Violet’s expression was caught halfway between a smile of amusement, a frown of disapproval and a twist of confusion. The younger two didn’t understand the battle of wits until the last word, when even they caught on that the older boy had called the Lady a dimwit.

“You withhold another name,” the Lady said, eyes narrowed but otherwise unfazed by the insult. “Say it.”

Wen shook his head with a superior smile. “You should know this, all-wise one.”

“Say it.”

Maple finished another cookie, leaving only three more on the plate for the others, none of who had touched one yet. She wiped her fingers on a napkin delicately. “Evenette Suis,” she said evenly. “That is the name you are missing.”

“Surely that one you recognize?” Wen asked innocently.

Everyone recognized the name. Evenette Suis, the witch-that-had-gone-insane. Evenette, who had been gifted with the rare ability of dualcasting elements. Evenette, who held more power than entire armies in a single pointy fingernail. Evenette, who was rumored to be the Destroyer—who else could wreak havoc so easily without conscience?

“Your name is a tainted one,” The Lady Archangel said finally. “Yet you flaunt it. Evenette’s curse may yet be your own.”

“Evenette’s curse is her gift which is my twin’s.”

For a while no one said anything. Wen Tynan put his feet down and snagged a cookie from the plate. He bit, found it to his liking and consumed the remainder of it quickly. He tossed another to Jing, stood and patted his hands off on his pants and pulled a gadget out of a pocket as if checking the time. “Well, glad that’s settled. Now, if we have a clue where we’re going, I have a ship outside that might be handy. ”

Maple stood and waved a hand over her plate of crumbs, clearing it immediately. Jing, who was already standing turned to Kenneth, who picked the bag on the ground next to him and nodded. Violet looked up. “Me may…join you on quest?”

Maple smiled magnanimously and put a comforting arm on the purple-haired phantom’s shoulder. “Of course,” she murmured. “You are welcome.”

The five nodded and headed outside, leaving the girl in the long dress and black halo with the final cookie.

The Lady Archangel sat with her hands folded before her, eyes staring through the innocent cookie. “Their mission may yet be successful,” she murmured barely audible. She stood and looked after the five-some and back at her scythe leaning against the wall. She swept the scythe into one hand and flicked the cookie onto the blade in a single, practiced move. With precise movement she brought the blade towards her and snatched the cookie up with her free hand. She ate a little chunk, cocked her head in tasting and tucked the remainder away to one of the many cross-deminsional vaults created with a swipe of her scythe. Then she smoothed out her dress and walked through the wall to join the other fools.

—

Okay, fine, they turned out different than I’d guessed. But they were difficult too, and sometimes they reminded me of my old assassin crew. I just thought of it as another mission. It didn’t matter who assigned it.

Artist's note: Hi :) This is Silver Ink, hopefully reporting back after a summer hiatus. Yep!

So...I already know this is going to be a really really long note so I'll try to divide it up:

About the post/ story: So...yea...:D Wen's life took an unexpected turn, hehe. There are two other Wen-stories I already have written and will be posting... so... yea. As with any other story that vaguely mentions Wen Tynan, this is dedicated to TATAbox. Hopefully she's not disappointed that I posted something other than what I said I would....but it fit better to post this first, I think. :)

About the hiatus and life: Hehehe...Sorry about the unexplained unmentioned hiatus. I was away from my computer (omigosh -.-) for most of the summer and I had summer school so....that's my excuse? hehe! College is starting as well, so I don't know exactly how much I'll be writing yet, but I'll try to keep with the good old 500 words/ week :)

About...another blog. You might not have noticed, but this post is being posted from a different gmail account; aurasinewindrose@gmail.com (cookies if you remember where Aurasine Windrose comes from). Don't worry; it's just a new alias. In conjunction, The River Windrose is now up, though not yet running. It's going to be only my stuff :P but it's not completely the same. I'll still be posting random stories and scenes here on DiW <3. TRW will be a little different. I'll keep an update on how that goes (expect slowly :P ) :)

Also, I realized that the subscribe button only works with gmail only and only to the blogger feed and that thus, no one was getting any notifications about posts! That's been altered to a subscribe by e-mail gadget now, so hopefully it'll be a little more useful. It's at the bottom of the right hand bar, right under the horridly outdated Links section. Tell me how it works! :)

Please comment! Thanks in advance!

Anyways...that's all for this week! Glad to be back!

~SilverInk

Introducing Love

Title: Introducing Love
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Short Story?
Word Count: 2866
Warning: Implication of mature themes, Minor profanity at end.

“Gil, Gil, I’m here, it’s ok,” He held the shaking girl in one arm, keeping the other one—the one with his rifle—away from Gil. “It’s ok. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Revolting. “Liam, you’ve got 10 minutes.” Liam’s pilot glanced again at the countdown on his watch. “Hurry up.”

Liam grimaced and let the girl go for a moment and leapt onto a crate so he was level with his pilot. “Wen, take Gil to safety, will you?”

“Why?”

“Please? For me?”

Wen sighed. “It’s against the rules to associate with civilians.”

“Please.”

“Nine minutes 45 seconds.”

“Please, Wen.” 

The pilot sighed and glanced at the girl, who was shivering, half from the cold air, half from quiet sobs. “Fine. Get back quickly though.”

 “Thanks,” Liam said, hopping off the crate and kissing Gil quickly on the cheek. “Go with Wen. I’ll be right back.” Without further ado, he slid down the visor on his head and disappeared outside the warehouse. 

“Liam!” the girl called, reaching out a moment late. There was no response. Gil shook, and another sob escaped her. 

“Well,” Wen said with a sour taste on his tongue, “Get in.” 

Without words, Gil pulled her jacket tight around her body and picked her way to the small passenger’s area behind Wen. “Thank you,” she added quietly as he shut the glass screen. 

Wen didn’t respond. He flicked a few switches and the aircraft started to hum. Within a few seconds they were cruising out of the warehouse and flying over the nearby port. “Eight minutes,” he muttered to Liam over a communication gadget. 

Gil was silent in the back, her eyes glued on the countdown. 

--- 

Love. Isn’t that word sickening? Why would anyone willingly give their entire self to another? 

I figured out why Gil was so attached to Liam. In his first mission to this place some years ago, Liam had some spare time after his mission. His pilot had been—put in the nicest way possible—occupied with certain members of the same species but opposite gender in a place where alcoholic beverages were commonly served. Liam had been rather new at the whole thing then, and still took his job seriously, following every petty rule, like that one concerning members of the same species but opposite gender in places where alcoholic beverages were commonly served. But there had been this one girl, who was just so very beautiful, that caught his eye.

I had the pleasure, of course, of listening to him describe her gorgeous curves, pleasant face, and bright eyes. He detailed the way her lustrous hair sashayed along her back, brushing the straps of her very revealing and torn dress in the most tempting way. And of course, he remembered vividly the way she lost her footing and nearly fell on him as he was walking out of the tavern: the thrill when her soft, delicate hand touched his, and the way her body crumpled against his, filling his nose with the scent of the kitchen. 

Gil wasn’t actually a prostitute. Her mother was though, and her uncle was the tavern’s keeper. She was a natural beauty, and didn’t need artificial maintenance to maintain a more-than-pretty appearance. Her uncle didn’t clad her in much clothing as she worked as a waitress, partly because he didn’t care, and partly because he wanted customers to be seduced and keep coming. 

Liam didn’t pay very high; according to his tale, she had taken one look at his “irresistible” muscles and pushed him out of the door and led him into a dark alley. He said he’d been confused when she removed her apron and started unbuttoning her dress. “When I realized what she wanted, I tried to stop her, but”—here he would cuss, depicting her nude body with profane adjectives—“and I caved into her charm. She talked me into love, and I kept volunteering for missions to come back and see her.”

--- 

Wen landed the aircraft in an open field, by a small hut where Gil said her friend Violet lived. The girl wanted to visit her friend, but the pilot refused, shielding the craft so it blended in with the forest behind them.

“Six thirty,” he said to the assassin in town. 

“I’m working on it, sheesh,” came an exasperated reply. ”How’s Gil?”

“She’ll be better off if you came back alive, I reckon,” Wen replied sarcastically, glancing back at Gil. She was shivering again, and silent tears were pouring down her cheeks. Blinking to clear the tears, she continued a transfixed stare on the countdown.

Profanity sputtered through the connection, followed by a sweet, “Hang in there,” before the connection ended completely. Silence engulfed the small jet, the only sound an occasional sniffle from the back. 

“Aw shut it,” Wen finally said, whirling around at her. “There are always other boys. You probably had the time of your life while he was gone, seducing other people with those pretty eyes of yours.”

Gil sniffed again, and wiped the tears away with her sleeve. “S-seducing?”

“He said you dragged him into an alley near your uncle’s tavern and seduced him.”

“Me?” Incredulity and outraged brimmed her eyes—all tears had been drowned. Wen mentally rolled his eyes. At least his precious plane wouldn’t be inundated by salt water now. “He ruined my life!”

“Your fault for caving into hormones,” he retorted, turning back to the front. He watched Violet’s hut for action, bored. A little girl skipped out, only to be called back in by a motherly voice. Next a boy a bit older than his teenage years came out, fetched water from the well, and then returned inside. 

“Him.”

Wen glanced back at his passenger apathetically. 

“That guy that just walked out of the house. I loved him, and he me. My uncle said that if he couldn’t make me a good prostitute in a few years, he’d let me marry that guy.” She stopped briefly, but seemed desperate to get her story out. 

“Then Liam came. He followed his pilot in, and the latter gave his orders quickly, already familiar with the place, and provided a large wad of money. Liam stood by their door, saying he wasn’t interested. 

“I was sent out to serve a few drinks, but I quickly retreated to the back when I saw his eyes tailing me. As I passed him, he grabbed my skirt and pulled me up to him, scrutinizing my face. As soon as he let go, I ran off. I was afraid. It was only about a day until the proposed deadline, and I didn’t want to have it ruined then. I heard their discussion though, as Liam offered my uncle large sums for something I didn’t care to know about. 

“Finally, my uncle fetched me from the back. From the way he was pocketing the cash, it seemed my life had already ended. My mom cheered, looking up from washing plates. ‘You will see, Gillian. Someone as pretty as you was destined for this line of work. You will make good money for us. Trust me. You will like. Some customers are very creative.’ My uncle led me to his best room, one with a nice bed and couch, and a few bottles of drink. ‘Do well,’ he warned me, ‘and I might let you go after all.’ Without doubt he was thinking of a hefty tip.”

Wen was glaring at her by now, half disbelieving, half horrified. He noticed the little pigtailed girl—closer up she was closer to his twelve than a little seven year old—coming towards them, but didn’t worry. The ship was cloaked after all. He didn’t say anything to Gil, thinking over the new information.

“Finished,” Liam’s voice cackled though the microphone and the glowing 1:14 faded. “Told you it was easy. I’m stopping by the inn to give Gil's uncle his payment. See you soon!” 

--- 

Liam stood in the corner of the room, flipping though the drinks in the room. His jacket, vest, and belt were lying on the couch, discarded. He’d stolen a hefty sum earlier, and was happy with how he was going to spend it. The girl came into the room, changed into a short red skirt. 

“She’s all yours,” the tavern-keeper told him, and locked the doors. 

She knelt by his feet suddenly, wildly, and was begging with him the moment the door closed. “Please, please, please sir. I’m engaged to be married, my uncle is just looking for the money. Please spare me.”

“What’s your name?” Liam said, selecting a bottle and uncorking it. He took a swing and sat her on the bed.

“Gillian Summers. I’m a waitress, not a prostitute. I don’t belong in this,” she pleaded, indicating both room and dress. 

“Virgin?” he asked, ignoring her and taking another swig.

She was terrified and didn’t answer. “Please don’t,” she whispered. 

Liam took another long drink and looked at her evilly. “It’s ok. I am too. My pilot tells me it’s fun though.”

“You’d be ruining my life, sir. I have a future—a loving husband and a proper family. I-I can read and write. I can cook and sew. Please?”

He drained the bottle and set it aside. “Your husband will never know, he said, pining her down by her shoulders. She didn’t scream, though her face was contorted with fear. 

“Your conscience though,” she stammered, desperate. “Would you rape an innocent girl?”

“Hell ya if she looked like you.”

He kissed her hard, biting her lower lip lightly to keep her from turning away. “Stop squirming he hissed, his hands roaming down her body, groping and touching as he wished. She struggled and fought to get away, but was no match for a person like Liam.

---

"Why do you continue to pretend you love him though?" Wen was asking, still scrutinizing the girl coming towards his jet. 

"Because...I have to pretend. Liam keeps my uncle loaded with money. If I didn't have him, Uncle would sell me as a prostitute for certain. He threatened it before. But then Liam came again and offered to pay to keep me away from other people."

"I still don't understand."

"Uncle is old now. He will have to retire to less work soon. He has no heirs and no family still living aside from my mother and me. My mother is sickly and cannot run a bar. I can see his plan--he could give me the bar and continue to live wealthily off my work and Liam's donations. I care not to run the place, but if it is my only way free of my mother's rules and his threats, then it is a chance I am willing to take."

"It wont help you get back together with your friend there," Wen pointed out, gesturing gruffly at the teenage boy now chasing after his sister. "Your uncle might even make you marry Liam."

"I care not. Marriage is a superficial matter if no one cares too much for it. He will continue his missions, and I will continue my life."

"Still not helping your love life."

"I...will figure out a way to reconnect," Gil said, suddenly quiet. 

The silence was interrupted when Liam's voice came crackling though. "Finished. I've got your location. I'm coming."

His pilot shrugged and stared out the window again. The little girl--Violet-- was suddenly a lot closer to his jet than Wen would have liked, and her brother was close behind. Wen was tempted to turn his jet's laser cannon on them--one shot and the two of them would be vaporized without a trace--but abruptly stuck a new thought and decided something else. 

He stood up and pressed a button to contact Liam. "Negative," he instructed. "Civilians nearby.  I can't take off without revealing our location. Stay back until I signal otherwise."

Liam could be heard cursing and demanding why Wen was opposed to just blasting the people into smithereens but when he was met by cold silence, finally relented, "Agreed."

Wen checked to ensure Liam could not hear his speech before taking off his seat belt, opening a hatch and jumping onto the grass. He wasn't concerned about getting hurt, even if these two happened to prove hostile; he had multiple daggers concealed on his body and a handgun in his pocket. 

"Where are you going?" his passenger said, also standing. 

"Miss Summers, I believe that where I am going is none of your business but also in your best interest to follow me. Now get off."

He wandered through the jet's shield and stood a few yards away from the boy and his sister. Gil was still lingering behind the shield.

"Whoa! Didn't see you there, little sir. If you don't mind my asking, what're you doing all the way out here?"

"What's your name?" Wen asked neutrally, staring at the boy.

"Uh...Utah Kyson. And this is my lil' sis, Violet. You, sir?"

"Wisconsin Tynan, delighted to meet you." Wen said, still monotonously, staring back at Violet, who was peering at him curiously. She had an innocent face and was offering him a flower she'd picked up. "No thank you."

He didn't know how he was do what he wanted to, and Violet gave him a nasty surprise when she asked, "Is that your ship? And why's Gil with you?"

The boy who had called himself Utah was probably also shocked by this news because his eyes flickered over Wen's shoulder suspiciously. Violet sighed and pulled a ribbon out her pocket in a dramatic way. "I can see past your shield," she explained. "Utah can't though." 

Wen shook his head to clear the disbelief and concern. "I'm going to be blunt, Mr. Kyson...."

---

Gil knew Violet could probably see past the ship's shield but still didn't bother telling Wen that her friend was coming. She chatted with him, glad to be able to tell someone about her plight. This boy...he was what, 12? But already he was flying a war machine as if it was the most familiar thing to him in the world. Gil admired him for that, but only slightly. She knew where he came from--the same place as that Liam.  They came from a place where kids were taught to kill. 

Liam Osborne Wreke. That creature that made her life a wreak. Well, she reasoned with herself,  not really. He had complicated matters, yes. But she was more mad at her uncle and her mother than she was at Liam. Still, she would not trust him with her schemes. She cared about his existence only for his money. 

But there was something odd about this boy. This ambivalent kid pilot that acted--and probably though--more maturely than she considered herself. 

She followed Wen out and stood at the edge of the jet's shield, staring at Utah with loss. She knew he could not see her, and she was glad. How would she explain?

---

Wen returned to his ship, feeling mighty pleased with himself and even more pleased with how matters had gone. He waved at his new friends on the ground; Gillian and Utah, who had been talking quietly on the way back to Utah's hut stopped and waved and Violet smiled in his direction before skipping after them, flowers bouncing merrily and dress blowing back with the power of wind his ascending aircraft was billowing.

Wen smiled, certain he had done some actual good that day. He closed his fist around a small smooth stone, answered a message sent to his watch, and continued to pick up Liam.

---

"Where's Gil?" Liam asked, swinging onto the ship as Wen hovered temporarily on the outskirts where Liam had been waiting. 

"With a friend," the pilot assured, closing the hatch as Liam strapped himself in. He executed a double roll and backflip to turn them in the direction of their headquarters and grinned evilly to himself. 

"What? I wanted to see her before we left, you bastard! Bring me to her! And turn the damn plane around. It's giving me a headache."

Wen spun the aircraft around, twirling until Liam screamed "Stop it!" Wen laughed darkly and returned to the normal position, accelerating as he went. "Better," Liam scowled. "Where're we going? I thought I told you to go back, damnit."

"No can do," came the reply. The boy in front typed in a few short commands with one hand into the hologram keyboard and a screen showed up in front of Liam, with the message Wen had gotten just a few moments before. In a few seemingly innocent words, it gave the assassins their next assignment's destination.

Liam spewed profanity and Wen adjusted Liam's screen so it showed a dorky cartoon. "Looks like something you might like," he said, smirking at Liam's outrage. 

Wen guided his ship contentedly and glanced at the stone with a color-changing flower engraved on it in it. He pocketed it and felt a small but genuine smile creep onto his face before yanking the wheel sharply left.

Artist's note: HI! Sorry for the late update, but it's about 5 times as long as an expected DiW post, if that's any compensation ;)

It's kind of a continuation of The Pilot, which I wrote in May... hope you like it! (And hope I kept them in character, somewhat?)

In other news, school has resumed! And also, I will need to be writing college application essays soon as well (and no, I'm not posting them online. XP) Therefore, updates might be sporadic at best, I think :( Perhaps I will have a few drawings though I can post instead? Lewis and I agreed to be non-originalists in our interpretation of the Drawn in Words Challenge >:) (AP Gov't allusion ;) ) November SHOULD theoretically contain many updates due to NaNoWriMo, but I am unsure if I will be able to post, or if I will be able to even write that much >.<

Regardless, my best to you all. Thanks for reading and please comment! :D

~SilverInk

The Pilot

Title: The Pilot
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Short Story/ character background
Word Count: 517
Warning: Profanity. 

“Look here, I’m only here to get you to wherever the hell you need to go and help you finish the damn mission,” the pilot snapped at the passenger behind him as the small craft wove through the air, gaining altitude. “So unless you have questions, shut up.”

“Maybe you should, Wen,” the assassin snarled back, leaning forward. “Technically I could report you as disrespecting your elders”

“Yeah? Well technically I could crash this piece of shit.”

“You’d die too,” the teenager laughed, leaning back.

“Want to bet?”

The other was silent.

“Thought so,” Wen muttered as he made a sharp turn left.

---

My name wasn’t always just Wen. But I’ve forgotten my real name anyways, so it’s good as anything.

I was abducted when I was four, from Ireland. All I remember is that I was getting milk for someone—I think her name was Mrs. Samson, but I can’t be sure—when a man in a dark suit hopped out of a helicopter and picked me up. He neutralized me with a shot and when I next woke up, I was lying in a barrack in China, filled with kids not much older than me.

I guess Mrs. Samson didn’t get her milk.

They didn’t ask me for a name, but I made one up anyways. Quick thinking, yes, that was it. Some kid had told me about a “ dark gathering of waters” and I translated it—the first word in Irish, the second part in French: Wisconsin Tynan.

Most of the kids couldn’t pronounce Wisconsin. So I used the Chinese word for culture: Wen.

I was flown around in planes, to learn to be an assassin. Now I fly those planes, to take assassins to their mission locations.

---

“You can wake up now,” the pilot called, landing the tiny craft in a field behind a hill. He waited a moment before cutting the engine and hoping out of his seat to the back. “Oi. Up.”

The passenger opened his eyes and glared at the kid pilot.

“I’ll keep in touch via the glasses,” the pilot said, pointing at the dark glasses tucked in the assassin’s pocket.

“Where’s the target?”

Wisconsin leapt back over the seat and into the cockpit. He brought up a series of maps and charts and files. “Got it. I’ll wire you a map.”

The assassin nodded and flung himself stealthily out of the craft. He put on his glasses and grabbed a hoverboard. “Thanks. See you later,” he said,  flying towards the city.

Turning off the screens, Wisconsin started the craft again and flew to a more hidden location before checking back in.

---

I don’t get paid much. I get my life, three meals a day, what I need for my missions, a blanket, and a pillow. During my time off, I like to fiddle with warships and hack whatever I can get my hands on.  Of course, I don’t always have something to fiddle with or hack. Those times, I practice my aim. The recoil on most guns throws me off a bit.

I’m 12.

Artist's Note: This week's post, a bit late, sorry

He's a new character i thought up only today for a roleplay and was inspired to write something short. It isn't as complete as I thought or hoped, but I think its...ok. 

Regarding the mini-poll, please post your opinions and stuff on the post itself. :)


EDIT: "Wisconsin" means "Gathering of waters" in French (derived from a Native American word though) and "Tynan" means "Dark" in Irish. So it's a bit reversed :p


~SilverInk