Birthday

Title: Birthday
Author: Lewis
Writing: Short Story
Word Count: 705

The park is full of people.
“Happy birthday,” says your big brother. “Come on, smile. You’re sixteen now, aren’t you?”
He earnestly takes your hand and leads you to the table laden with cake and presents. Your family and friends crowd around, waiting.
“I‘ll open presents,” you mutter, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Then we‘ll have cake.”
Your best friend nudges playfully at your shoulder. “Open mine first. It‘s the one in the Home Depot bag.”
The breath that everyone seems to be holding is released, and the atmosphere is light again.
When all the presents are unwrapped and accounted for, and you have thanked each of your guests, Mom takes a lighter and sets the candles on the cake aflame. The whole affair is messy, since the area around the cake is crammed with crumpled tissue paper and ribbon. Someone softly begins to sing “Happy Birthday,” in a hesitant whisper. It takes several seconds for them to realize that the song has started, and eventually they’re carrying the tune in more or less recognizable pitches. You laugh at their effort, and applaud loudly to appease their bruised egos once they have finished. The candles are quickly blown out and removed, as one of your kid cousins is clearly yearning to take one home with her.
For your birthday, Mom has agreed to let you be in charge of cutting the cake. The only time she’ll ever let you handle a knife, she says, and hopefully the last. You decide not to remind her that someday you’ll do so- despite her wishes, because come hell or high water you’re determined to learn to cook for yourself. Besides, what have you done to make her wary of you using a knife?
You save the largest slice for yourself.
“Hog,” your big brother whines. “It’s your birthday, and all, but couldn’t you at least be fair?”
“I’m eating for two.”
“Don’t tell me-”
“No! Jerk. It’s Dad’s share I’m eating.”
“Should have known you’d pull up an excuse like that.”
Having eaten their cake, your guests begin to leave. Some stay behind to help clean up, promising to visit again soon. Within half an hour or so, the park is empty save for you, your brother, and Mom.
“I’ll finish up here. Why don’t you and your brother head on home first?” Mom suggests, gathering up the wrapping paper.
Big brother speaks up. “Actually, Mom, I’ll stay and help you clear away the rest of the trash. That looks like it‘s going to take a while to get done.”
It’s still early in the afternoon, and the sky is blue as can be. Still, the walk to your house is short, and you begin to look forward to taking an early nap. One of your friends passes you by in a car, beeping it so loudly that the cat lady living in the house next door pokes her head out in irritation.
“Teenagers,” she grumbles, shaking her fist at the car. She notices you walking by. “Hello, dear. Are you doing all right?”
“I’ve been better, thanks.”
As you shut the front door behind you, the first thing you do is make for the living room to watch TV. You search the room for the remote, but to no avail.
“Dad, have you seen the TV remote?”
You immediately realize your mistake the moment those words leave your lips. The emptiness of the house is glaringly obvious in the complete silence that follows.
It’s frustrating, the way that you can’t get over not having anyone to find the remote for you. If there had been one extra person at the party, you probably wouldn’t have eaten such a large slice. Before, there was someone who would strictly watch your diet and scold you for eating so many sweets. Even though Mom and your big brother have tried hard to make your birthday a memorable one, you haven’t been able to shake off this feeling. You have never felt so incomplete.
That’s right:
Dad died today.

------------------------
my longest post yet, maybe?
And I haven't posted in a long time, sorry.
gah.
sadness D:
I want to write a happy story.

~Lewis, posting this in a hurry so that Silver can read it.

Diamond Curse

Title: Diamond Curse
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Short Story
Word Count: 1786

Farsiris Daylily Vaina was busy checking her appearance--again--in her flower-shaped mirror. Something still wasn't right and Siris knew what it was--her necklace. Not one of her necklaces matched her outfit. 

Finally she sighed in defeat and took off the necklace she had on, deciding she could do without one altogether, and hurried from her dorm room. 

School was the same as usual. Siris was certain by she'd aced her literature and demonology tests--the latter not so much as the former--and by the time she walked out of her last period, Siris was thinking of the night's play, for lack of any other interesting subject matter to dwell upon. Then again, the play didn't hold too much interest for her, aside from seeing the costumes: her friend Enlaika was the costume designer and Siris knew Enlaika was a brilliant and fashionable artist at her craft. 

"Margaret!" A familiar and welcome voice called. Siris looked up from her thoughts and saw Collin Gray calling out to his childhood friend Margaret Allene Garrett.

Siris watched with a pang of jealousy as her vamipre crush embraced the new girl at school. He drew away quickly, laughing about what Siris assumed was Margaret's lack of control of her power. Margaret's power--transfer of energies--had a nasty tendency to suck --or infuse-- a plethora of energy from or with anyone she touched.  Siris sulked. At least I can control my powers, she mused cynically, turning away and retuning to her dormitory.

---

The person that had bought a ticket for the seat next to Siris's right hadn't come yet, or they simply weren't coming. Siris glanced at the empty seat and then at her flower shaped watch. 10 minutes until the play started. She sat, ignoring the chatter of the cheerleaders to her left as they admired each other. Siris yawned. She hoped Collin would be the one that would sit to her tight, but she knew Titan, Collin's roommate, had that seat. 

A glimmer of light caught her eye and Siris detected a diamond necklace on a thick aquamarine cord hung on the edge of the handrest. Intrigued, Siris picked it up, wondering who would lose such an exquisite item. She looked down at her clack dress and long to pit it on--it fit perfectly. 

Just for awhile, she begged herself, then hesitated. On the bck of the cord, she noticed a name, sewn in black silk--Enlaika Glavin/ Oh! Enlaika must have lost it accidentally while working in the theater. Siris would keep it on now and return it to Enlaika after the show when--hopefully--her friend would let her examine some of the costumes personally. 

There was something extraordinary about this piece of jewelry, Siris realized the moment she put it on. The cheerleaders next to her quieted and the teacher stopped patrolling irritably up and down the aisles of the auditorium. 

"Hey," someone to her right said, and Siris looked up into the storm-gray of Collin's eyes. "Titan's not coming so he gave me his seat. Hope you don't mind," he explained, flashing her a smile that made all the flower seats in her pocket float with delight. 

"Absolutely," she breathed as the lights dimmed and the show started. Sometime in the midst of the well-acted play, Collin's hand found a way into hers and by the tragic ending, their hands were tightly clasped. They stood and clapped as the performers took a last bow and waited until the last of the teary audience left before approaching the front, where Enlaika was waiting for them. Collin trailed behind but still followed Siris for some inexplicable reason. Siris enveloped her friend in a hug, proclaiming how marvelously tragic the play was. 

"Are you busy?" Enlaika asked, Siris replied she wasn't. "Fantastic--come with me. You said you wanted to see the costumes?

Siris's face lit up and she and Collin followed Enlaika. "I have your necklace," Siris commented, moving to take it off. 

"You can keep it for now," she said smiling sadly. "I'm in no hurry to get it back."

----

It was two weeks before Siris felt any guilt and two months before she decided she couldn't handle it anymore . Her life was seemingly perfect. As long as she kept the diamond necklace on--and she was almost compelled to wear it--she could directly influence the course of events by sheer willpower. The necklace hat since added Farsiris Vaina to the cord in black and Enlaika's name had faded to teal. 

But something urged her to return it. Why, she couldn't tell--who would be willing to sacrifice paradise? 

---

"Collin, stop." Siris commanded but her boyfriend didn't drop his hand from cupping her face. "Stop," she repeated, but he didn't, as she knew he wouldn't--because secretly she didn't want him to leave, and the diamond necklace answered to that clandestine desire. 

"What do  you want?" Collin asked, his voice strange as he leaned backand away from her. 

"You don't love me," she stated matter-of-factly, touching the necklace that made everything happen the way she wanted.

"I do."

Of course he did. She wanted him to. Siris hesitated and a random thought stirred in her head: She had filled in random bubbles in the last math test as an experiment to see if the necklace would really grant her anything she desired. But she quickly determined her life--and Collin's sanity--were more important than a grade that would  barely affect her stellar academic record. 

She drew in a long shaky breath and undid the clasp in a single move, letting it fall to the grass floor.

"Now do you love me?"

"I..." The strange teal that had crept into his eyes suddenly vanished and Collin stumbled away from her, leaning against the wall of the garden maze for support. His head was spinning and she could see he was close to passing out. 

"Collin!" She approached him but he held a hand up and she respected his request for her to back away. 

"Just go, Siris. I'll be fine. I'm just confused." He didn't look fine and every fiber of Siris's being called out for her to help somehow, but she squashed these proclivities with great discipline and nodded. She swept the necklace from the ground and fled from the maze, the flowers on the walls guiding her the way out. She burst into the school and continued to the drama room where she startled a few of the drama club members talking backstage. "Enlaika Glavin. I need to talk to her."

One of the people looked like he was about to object and Siris shot them a glare that only the queen of popularity herself could muster. "Now."

"Enlaika's sick in her room," someone finally said. "Why?"

She ignored his question and dashed off with a "Thanks". She scurried to the third floor where the girls' dorms were and found Enlaika's room. Putting on the necklace grudgingly and willing that the door was unlocked and Enlaika awake, Siris mused on what to ask.

As she had hoped, the door was unlocked and the room vacant except for Enlaika who was laying on the bed, reaching for a glass of water just out of her reach. She turned and smiled tiredly at Siris before flopping back on her bed. "Something amiss?" she asked hoarsely.

Siris handed Enlaika the water glass and showed her the necklace--she'd figured out that people couldn't see the jewel unless she wanted them too, and though she was fairly certain that Enlaika would recognize her own pendant--she had the first time she'd mentioned it--she wanted to be clear. "I need you to take it back. I know it gives me what I want, but once I took it off...Collin got this massive headache and I'm afraid I've seriously hurt him...pemanantly?"

Enlaika shook her head and sat up to drink. She took a long sip before explaining, "It's the temporary side effect of the magic. "The more will you exert on a person, the more the receiver i affected when you take it off."

"I...think I get that. Why are you sick? I didn't want you to be."

"But on the other hand, you didn't specifically will me not o be sick," Enlaika pointed out and took another drink from the endless-water glass. "Thus, my life proceeded as if would have without its influence. Probably also because I was usually manipulating myself when I used it."

"Let's keep it off then," Siris said quickly, taking it off.

But Enlaika disagreed. "You've probably noticed the necklace almost compels you to wear it. Usually people can only see it if you want them to or if you've been its master before. If you resist wearing it though, it will either return to another master or switch to a different function and entice people to find and wear it." She paused. "You understand then, why you wouldn't want it?"

"I'm controlling everyone. I'm sick of getting my way even when I don't get my way--the...thing works so that I get what I secretly want, even if tragedy is what results. I...I don't want the feeling that I'll be able to control everything in the end by sheer will. The power's eating away at me."

Enlaika nodded in understanding and sighed. "You learn to be ambivalent to everything. You learn to control your will on the world. Because if you don't want anything to happen to anyone or anything, then the necklace can't do anything to alter the natural course of events." She stopped and drank again, pensive. She murmured, "You learn to care without caring."

Siris watched Enlaika then turned to the necklace. She made a decision and handed the culprit of chaos to Enlaika. "You keep it. For now. We can trade off, once I learn this...ambivalence."

With a nod, Enlaika reached for the diamond. As Enlaika touched the jewel, a faint aquamarine glow pulsed around it and she noticed the colors of their names on the back of the cord switched again. 

For comfort--either for herself or Siris--Enlaika smiled and lied back down. "I'll be fine," she assured. A similar aquamarine aura glowed around the water glass--Siris realized that she could now see the effects of the diamond--and the glass moved back to it's original place on the desk. 

Siris took this as her signal to leave and stood. At the door she stopped and turned. "One small thing--I put random answers on my math test. Could you--?"

She stopped and returned Enlaika's grin. 

Artist's Note: Another short story and another detour from the Character Backgrounds ;)

DISCLAIMER: Farsiris, Collin and Margaret are actually alias Lyrica Pie's OCs. I had permission to use them for my writing. Thank you Lyrica

@Lyrica--I have an idea for the Jane Exina thing you asked for but it might be a very long while until I write and post >.<

And Tasuke will be in Tsiyone's background. :)

Please read and review! Thank you in advance!

~SilverInk

Tsiyone Karmiti Character Background part1

Title: The Introduction
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 1182

There seems to be an unwritten law governing the state of the human creatures that allows for other two- legged, two- armed, one-headed, tailless organisms of their planet to walk more freely than other creatures. And it seems that the verdant, static life forms previously so abundant on the planet are degraded as all but nonliving; it is pointless to further express the treatment of said static objects, of those with or without luster. 

The Natives of the forest have a life that is almost directly against this way of life. We live as peaceably as we can bear with the nature around us, with the innate life of the planet. We do not claim to be more “advanced” in any aspect of the human lifestyle except in the area of morality—generally—by the planet’s definition. Yet that is not to say we are completely without their “modern technology”. We have our own methods of technology, ones deemed more “one” with the environment. 

And it is not to say we loathe the non-natives that have come to populate the land. We are careful to keep our relations at a friendly minimum, extending a heart equal to that which is extended to us. 

Of course, I speak only with the experience known to the tribe of Karmiti, and with information only known to the chief’s daughter.

--- 

The first chief of Karmiti was known as Adoeete (ah-do-EE-tay), Big Tree. It is said that his devotion to the land—particularly the trees—was so great that he was born when two rivaling trees entwined roots and created him from the overlapping area; when he was killed, he returned to the land as a great tree. But his teachings were much like the ones of times before, with a slight change to accommodate the farming people of the tribe. 

His great-grandson, Adahy (ah-da-HAY), Timber, later became chief and wed Kemete (key-MEH-teh), Secret. I—Tsiyone (tsi-YO-ne)— am the product of that marriage. I will not however, be the next chief; our chiefs are selected by the presiding chief, along with a few of the elders, when the child is very young. The child, of course, must also consent to this role before it is official.

I am, and always will be, Tazanna, daughter of the chief. I hold no special rank or authority, and no distinction but the title is made. It is no great loss; I prefer to be simply Tsiyone Karmiti, Flying Trees, and not someone that must lead a tribe. I was born this way, and am consent with always being this. My role is to guide the little saplings in our ways, that they might learn the values of the earth and the power of the ancient language.  

--- 

Enough with the dull history. My story begins with the attack of the Nochime (no-shim) tribe on the Karmiti tribe. It was my ninth winter on the land, and I remember I was taking a break from sewing spare moccasins for the men and practicing archery when a cry went up from one of the residents on the perimeter of the camp. It was a late notice, since no one was on the farmlands. A messenger had run from an outlying tent through the familiar forest path to the main camp and reported that hostiles were approaching. Already there were two dead. 

Father gathered the warriors immediately and the non-fighters quickly took down the hangings in the paths in camp to clear the way and to protect their goods. I, along with a few of my wihe—sisters—were expected to keep guard of the camp as the others greeted the hostiles. 

We waited in calm trepidation, and occasionally a fearful mother muttered a prayer, which would be followed by the unanimous “Deus Ioyna” that is, “Deus has mercy.” 

The pahan—non-native born—of the tribe were few—Nem Suis had not joined us yet—and most knew their task; my friend and wihe Evangeline stood by me, her chubby fingers resting on a small set of dark colored stones that I knew were laced with her witchcraft and would do anything from explode to send confusion through those unfamiliar to her—given the alternative, and the proximity of the nearby tents, I silently hoped she would employ the latter. 

--- 

In our language, Nochime means “heartless”. The first leader had named his tribe such because they were a band of outcasts from either native or non-native society and had sworn revenge on the individuals who had banished them. Conflict arose though, when children appeared. Some suggested making pacts with peaceful tribes and leaving the children with them, but some feared that the children would be mistreated, as the adults had been. Some wanted to keep their children and raise them as part of the band. Some killed the babies when they were young. Some sold them as slaves to the non-natives. Some waited until the child could work before selling it—they were an “it” to the members of the Nochime—for more money.

This last one was the case of Eluan (EH-lu-an) Nochime.

--- 

We waited, and finally heard fighting in the distance. This was soon replaced by loud quarreling with soon faded to quiet mumbling. At the time I had not yet advanced my connection to the trees so much as to be able to hear through them and thus did not hear the entire conversation, only snippets of it: “friend…winter…food…pahan…temp--…shila…ahia…”

I stopped listening to the conversation when I picked up footsteps running towards us from a different direction. Telling Evangeline to keep order, I darted towards the sound of these step to meet the newcomer. 

When the person got closer, I drew my bow and readied to shoot. Instead, a boy around my age rushed towards me, brandishing a long dagger. He balked when he saw my arrow pointed at his heart and collapsed. “Wihe, extrsazan okie neigah; Lepaz eun iem!*” His accent in the ancient language was harsh, and it was plain he did not learn it from his own people—the Nochime were not known for their dedication to the ancient customs and language. 

But nevertheless he had spoken in the ancient language and could not lie. “Lepaz, shila.**” I said—he was no brother of mine, but he had called me a sister and I did not wish to be disrespectful— and lowered my weapon. In Common, I asked, “You are of the Nochime clan, are you not? Are you lost?”

“No, I ran away. Don’t let them find me! ”

“Lepaz, shila.** Peace, peace. Where will you go?”

“Anywhere,” he said, “Anywhere.”

I thought hard for a moment. Father would not approve of what I was about to do—maybe no one would—but I could not kill him now, and to abandon him would be worse. 

"What is your name, shila iem?"

*Sister, do not attack me; I come in peace!

**Peace, brother.

Artist's Note: Hi! I haven't been online for a long while because my computer fried for a few days . I've got everything to work except Microsoft Office now though; and I just figured out a way to use TextEdit to write :) (Take that Microsoft! You just got pwned!)

And...this is part one of Tsiyone's background...which isn't going to be about her that much :/

In all honesty I think I'll try to finish this background story series (as in the entire thing) asap so I can try writing...actual stories. Background stories are betatesters! >.<

Please read and review! Thank you in advance! <3 :D

~SilverInk

P.S. Final Fantasy XIII is awesome. <3

Plans of Escape

Title: Plans of Escape
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Randomness/ Continuation/To-be-continued story
Word Count: 817
This starts at the end of the encounter described in "The Overdue Check": Adrian, one of Mariah's old boyfriends, has just settled scores with her and left. Mariah is watching him leave from her bedroom window.

I guess I'm free then, Mariah thought, taming her hair into braids. No more of them. She finished packing her duffel bag with clothes and other necessities. Finally, she opened a antique jewel case that was secured behind the mirror.

Grandfather's zeinband. The one Mother rejected. She turned to a photo of her long-gone grandparents on the dresser. Don't worry, Grandpapa...I won't disappoint you the way Mother did. I'll restore the family honor...

Mariah took a long at the dull colored stones connect by a band in their centers--like a hair band with flat, round ornaments--and examined the curved symbols in the centers. Sye-niar. I still remember your prowess in the stadium...I still remember the way Grandfather launched you two little ones into the battle and dominated the court, every single match. I still remember. And I'm going to bring you back to your former glory. 

She left them in the rosewood case, put this case back into the secret vault behind the mirror and turned towards the heavily curtained corner she had been sitting in for too long. Books were piled all over the room, covered by hastily made book covers. Mariah sighed and began neatly stacking the books and straightening the book covers that boasted titles such as "Modern Fashion," "The Housewife's Guidebook to Survival" and "101 Things You Need to Know About Marriage," only to be interrupted by a loud woman calling her name and bursting through her door.

"Mariah!" Her mother repeated, exasperatedly. "I saw that young man walk out just now, you know. You rejected him too, I bet."

"Mother, I'm 19. I don't want to get married."

"But you must! Or soon there will be no one good left!"

“Need I marry?”

Her mother broke into a rage and fished out a remote from the pocket of her large dress. She spun a dial and hit a button. Long snakelike wires that were connected to a ceiling socket in the hidden corner slunk out and chased her down, the inconspicuous tethers on her feet keeping her from moving in this situation. The first few tendrils secured around her waist, wrists and knees and the remaining sludge dumped themselves around her, draping over her back and coiled down her arms and legs. A few even slunk down the two loose braids.

“Mother!” she cried, the wires obviously uncomfortable.

“You disobeyed me. You read all these books, but you have no intention of ever marrying. Why do you do this to me?” He mother spun the dial again and hit a button. A light shock trickled through the wires, making her twitch painfully. The thirty-some year old woman continued, “You know I am getting old. We need to find you a suitable husband as soon as possible. Then you can conceive for me a grandchild. Do you hear me?”

She turned the voltage up a notch and hit the button again. “Do you understand me, Mariah? You must marry. Or if you do not, you must produce a child. Otherwise your existence is meaningless. I do not care if you like anyone or not. It is not that hard to get pregnant.”

She hit the button again and Mariah cringed, biting back a scream. “You are useless! Pointless! Stupid! Disgrace” She jabbed the button with each exclamation and finally stormed out.

Still entangled in the electrocuting wires, Mariah crept to the corner and worked her way slowly and painfully up the wall, using the windowsill and pile of books as props. Finally, with much difficulty, she hit the high, hidden  switch that retracted the wires. As they slunk back into their socket, messing up and tearing off bits of hair and skin.

She crashed on the floor and knocked over a stack of books. A few of the book covers tore or fell off and revealed the true books underneath: “History of Zeinbanding,” “The Beginning Zeinbander’s Guide” and “Zeinband Maintinence”.

I have to get away, she thought, stowing the duffel in a hidden location and crawling into the adjoining bathroom. Vision still clearing from spots, she turned on the water in the bathtub and found her secret bottle of healing lotion. She poured a small quantity into the water and started to put it away but stopped. Instead she crawled back into her room and stored this bottle, as well as a few others like it, into the duffel. She finally returned to the bathroom and relaxed in the water, letting the healing lotion take effect, scheming how to escape.

Father would help me, wouldn’t he? He did save Atesia from being sold…

When the water had cooled and Mariah felt considerably refreshed, she climbed out the tub and dressed quickly. She would need a good excuse for her mother to grant her audience with her father. Staring out the window at the city below, and thought of an idea.


Artist's Note: Hi...Yea, this was totally random because I was sick of writing character background stories. Sorry for the late update.


Terms to define in case they were confusing:
~Zeinbanding is a sport involving hair-band like objects. Mariah's grandfather's zeinband parts were called Sye and Niar, so collectively the tool is called Sye-niar.
~Atesia is Mariah's horse.


This is not supposed to be considered a character background story because it's not her entire life thus far, only a small segment. And it starts when she's 19 anyways :P 


Yea. Totally random, I don't know if I'm actually continuing it... and since I'm having trouble with Tsiyone's part right now, I don't know when the next normal character background thread will continue...and because I have SAT/ College Essay stuff to deal with too :( :( 


EDIT: I added a bit of expository information at the beginning. Yea, she kinda is a prisoner >_< @ Minsat-- :D <3
~SilverInk

Vera Suis Background part 6.

Title: Return to the Past
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Backround Story
Word Count: 1815 (

I froze. Damn obedience curse! I thought, irritated again. With irritation, I glanced backwards, without taking my eyes off the escapee.

“Are you so clouded as to not see who she is?” the voice of Jane Exina chided again. “Can you not recognize your friend?”

“Who’s side are you on?” I retorted, but caught myself from any insults, remembering our respective ranks. I may have been a Guardian, but Jane had also risen in rank, and was now known as a Shadow. She had power beyond that of most in the Cordelian heiarchy, and had only to report to the King himself.

“Do you not recognize your old friend?” she repeated.

“I have no friends.”

Jane moved around so she was standing between the escapee and me. “You used to,” she murmured. “Have you forgotten?”

Her cold tone had returned and I felt her presence slip out of my mind. “You have not forgotten.” She walked to the escapee and set her clock on the shivering lady’s shoulders before moving aside and I stared at the escapee more carefully.

We had been separated for a decade, and were hardly recognizable. But at Jane’s prodding, I recognized a few familiar features—that, and there were not many people in my past that were of much significance. And at that moment, I almost wished that reunions were as simple and easy as a “It’s been too long,” or “Don’t you remember?”

I felt Jane Exina’s hand touch my shoulder and send a wave of calm though me. The rock-hands vanished, and I mellowed a little. Still, no words were exchanged. Finally, Jane broke the silence, voicing my thoughts. “What do you do now?”

Akeisa pleaded with me silently, holding the baby as if it were the only thing that mattered. But I knew that failure would not be accepted. I had my own life to worry about, and I was expected to be recruited when the Lord of the land came to find a guardian to the land’s Shade team.

“Let her go,” someone said, but it was not Jane this time. “And I’ll be the next Shade.”

Bus Kandler—predictably, I supposed. A passing Shade had pitied his statue and brought him out of it—he quickly proved his worth in repaying the debt. “Go ahead. Save your—friend,” he spat the last word, and laughed.

“You are not to speak that way to a superior,” Jane admonished, testing him. He had yet to know of her new rank, and obviously could not tell by her cloak, as it had been given to Akeisa momentarily. Yet if he had any memory he would remember that she was the one that had permitted the Shade that had saved him to save him, put two and two together, and see that we were not acting.

He failed that test. “She is no superior,” he laughed, and attacked, uprooting trees and other debris of the forest to launch at me. With unsurpassable speed, I retaliated, merging the flying matter into a single entity and shooting it back at him. They bounced off him and did as much impact as a grain of sand does an ocean.

“Shadevow,” he said smugly, pointing at the dull gray jewel on a brooch. “You can’t hurt me.”

Through this encounter, Akeisa had slipped further from us, but now paused. She, as well as Jane, seemed to know that the next move depended on me.

My childhood resurfaced for a brief moment, flashing images of my triumphs and failures first as a Revelin, then as a Cordelian. Now that I had a choice, where would I stand?

My next words came from the Guardian-trained side of my brain; in a near monotone, I said, “Master Shadow?”

Bus looked around wildly searching for a Shadow. Akeisa had left the cloak hanging inconspicuously in a branch, and peered at us, looking for a way to escape. “Certainly,” replied Jane.

Incredulity plainly crossed Bus’s face and he smirked. “Nice try,” he muttered, and resumed the attack.

I dodged his attacks, manipulating the projectiles only when necessary to protect Akeisa. No one noticed Jane, who seemed to have vanished. Projectiles and blasts of pure psychic energy flew at me, colliding mercilessly with the environment. Finally, I tired of this game and –Shadevow or no—returned the onslaught.

Without fear, I threw my entire entity into a great tree that had been slashed in the battle; my body crumpled behind me, protected by a boulder. Inside the tree, I at first pushed, like Souls were trained to do, then decided to abandon those lessons and instead just asked to share the space for awhile. It relented hesitatingly, and I felt control of the massive being flood into my control. It was not like standing with my feet glued together and my arms stuck out stupidly; it was just being. The roots did not feel like feet—they were roots, not feet; the branches were branches, and each twig a separate being. I had given it a temporary nervous system, but it was still itself and did not mold itself to any animal shape. I was a tree. I was not a person inside the tree; I was a tree.

I lunged a branch forward using the whisperings of the wind to find him, and propelled a few roots around him, caging the fellow without harming him.

“You can’t hurt me!” he proclaimed again, doing nothing but confirming his location. Magic coursed though my vascular tissue and secondary growth of the plant ensured, making branches sprouting leaves curl around the guy, securing him tightly in a complex web.

I thanked the tree for sharing, and asked it to maintain the position before slipping away and reclaiming my own body.

“You still can’t hurt me,” Bus laughed, spitting out a mouthful of leaves. “You can trap, but not harm.”

I was about to speak, but Jane appeared above him, sitting calmly on a branch. “Arrogant much?” She peered at him and then leapt down, instantly at my side. “Your call,” she muttered pointlessly.

I had made my choice. I would not return with Akeisa to the Revelin—in any case she had escaped in the midst of the battle—but neither would I return with Bus to the Cordelian Empire. I glanced at Jane, knowing she was reading my intentions as I formulated them.

“Why?” I asked, taking the cloak I wore off. She swung it over an arm and said, “As a Shadow, I have privileges; among them, the right to pursue personal interests. This particular one is called, ‘the better path of an individual,’.

“Veraline,” she said, smiling interestedly. “I can’t make you braid your hair, but I can call you as much, can’t I?”

Vera—now Veraline again—smiled and hugged Jane Exina one last time before turning and leaping off into the woods, calling out to the forest for directions.

--- Fin---

Tsiyone Karmiti, fourteen years of age and the daughter of the chief, looked up from her work for a rare moment. The boy sitting on her right stopped as well, setting aside the basket he was helping her weave and stared at her. “What is it, Tazanna Tsiyone?”

“The trees are telling me…” she paused. “Shila Tasuke—oh, banish the thought—Wihe Evangeline! Please go find Pahan Nemonni and tell him to stand at the southeast border. The trees tell me someone is searching for him.

Tasuke grimaced as Evangeline, purple haired and pale skinned, darted off, fast despite her seemingly plump figure, before returning to work on his basket. He was an oddity, a child with no feeling in his legs. But the tribe was good, and did not see this as a drawback or a shame. He was to work with the women then, and work as they did. His arms were not damaged, and his brain was keen; he would work what he could with his conditions.

Within a few minutes, Evangeline returned with a man that stood out among the others: his skin was not quite as tanned as theirs, and his hair was a strange orange color; but the tribes people did not see him as a bad person, and he did not feel his awkwardness; these people were his closest family, and he knew their ways as well as any adult of the tribe. “Tazanna, he said, placing his left palm around his right fist in the native’s way of bowing, “My daughter told me I am expected at the south-east border? Am I looking for someone particular?”

“I know not, Pahan Nemonni. I was merely told that someone who can apparently communicate with the forest is searching for someone of your name. They come this way.”

The man bowed again, a move which Tsiyone mirrored as well, and then left for the south-east part of camp. He selected a place where he could see and looked around him, looking for whoever was looking for him. A few hours passed, and Nemonni was tempted to return, when a voice called, “Nem?”

“Vera?”

A very thin figure made her way towards him and Nem ran forward to help her. “Did you walk all this way from Shalenfear? However did you get enough to eat?”

“Hello uncle,” Vera said, smiling. Her hair was messy but presentable, Estallos still set in them, fluttering their wings with the wind. Her uniform was tattered and torn and her boots were hopelessly worn, but Vera Suis herself was very much fine. “Veraline now,” she corrected, accepting a drink of water from a flask Nem offered.

“I learned a lot in Shalenfear,” she started, “and I figured out how to use my abilities to keep myself alive. I talked to the trees to find out where you were. How did you know I was coming?”

He led her past the last tree before the camp and she gasped. “You’re living with natives?”

“Yes. This is the Karmiti Tribe; the chief’s daughter talks to trees and told me someone was looking for me.”

They continued through the camp, sharing tidbits of news.

They had arrived where Tsiyone was working with Tasuke and Evangeline. “Veraline, this is Tazanna Tsiyone, the daughter of the chief, whom I told you about.”

Tsiyone stood and bowed, the traditional hand-over-fist sign of respect. Vera started to salute, as she had been trained to do as a Cordelian, but stopped and remembered the native salute Nem had taught her so long ago. “Pahan Veraline, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Evangeline and Tasuke also bowed, the latter from his sitting position since he could not stand. “Tasuke,” Nem said, indicating the sitting boy. The two glanced at each other and smiled politely.

“Evangeline,” Nem introduced, but the indicated girl had come over to shake Vera’s hand personally. “I’ve heard a lot about you cousin. Welcome.”

Artist's Note: Yea...Finally done :) Sorry for the late update :P

I dunno what to do about Tsiyone's part, but that's the next major thread for me... unless I get tired of writing character profiles sometime and throw in a random non-character-background thing XD

The following should be defined in Tsiyone's part, but for clarity, this is the translation of the words in native (NOTE: I made these up; they aren't actual native indian words and aren't supposed to be the same as any other author's terminology)

Tazanna--Title for the daughter of the chief

Pahan--Non-native-born brother or sister (I realize this Pahan is also "mage" in Street Magic by Tamora Pierce. This was not intentional.)

Shila--Brother

Wihe--Sister

@Minsat--thank you for the compliment you wrote on a comment for "Point of an Eraser". <3

~Silver Ink

The Point of an Eraser

Title: The Point of an Eraser

Author: Lewis
Writing: point-of-view

Word Count: 747

Disclaimer: I do not own Tombow or MONO or anything of the sort. Thank you.

I am an eraser of the MONO variety- easily recognizable in a black-and-blue striped paper jacket and a plastic wrapping. The eraser is one of the most popular and well-used school supply materials around. There’s just one problem: being an eraser is an ensured path to doom.

It’s not as if I don’t realize how noble my existence is. I was created to remove the humans’ errors without a trace, to give them another chance to improve their work. I am a vital component of their daily lives. I am proud of myself and my cause. But I have realized that I will fulfill my destiny at the cost of my own life. Every day, my owner puts me to the paper using a cruel, almost bruising hold. As she erases, bits and pieces of me crumble away, as my rubbery form is unable to handle the paper’s abrasive surface. I am dragged over the paper repeatedly until my owner is satisfied with her work. She brushes the rubber scraps onto the floor, and returns me to the pencil box. Having lost too much weight, I exhaustedly recline in my designated corner.

Even more than gradually wearing away, I fear being broken into pieces. I’ve seen it happen to other erasers before. It begins as a tiny, almost unnoticeable crack one’s surface, forming due to some careless use. The crack spreads (like a tumor), an ever-present threat. One day, the owner uses his/her eraser a little too harshly, and it breaks apart. Sometimes it’s only a small chunk that breaks off a corner. Sometimes the eraser breaks in half. It doesn’t matter what size the chunk is, or how many pieces there are; the effect is the same. Thus, an eraser’s entire life is doomed once it cracks. To remain damage-free, an eraser needs to be kept without being used, and that in itself - denying an eraser its original purpose- is a torture too cruel to bear. No matter what happens to an eraser, its fate is the same. I’ve become somewhat accustomed to the idea, depressing as it sounds. Truth be told, I haven’t been able to discuss this with any other eraser yet, but I am pretty sure that what I’ve assumed is right.

Today, I have a little more than half of me still remaining. My owner has an annoying habit of wanting to clean off the dirty spots that are left after me after use- she cleans it off by erasing even more. After being placed back on the school desk, I survey my surroundings in boredom. One of my owner’s classmate friends passes by and stops to chat, placing her school materials beside me. A small eraser the size of a penny, worn to the point of being useless, rolls by. It’s an elder eraser, I realize with astonishment. Remembering that humans usually look to their elders for advice, I attempt to catch his attention.

“Sir,” I call. “Do you have a moment?” I tell him my thoughts.

The elder eraser- his name is Yorick- answers without hesitation. “Worry not, young eraser. It is not that erasers have no point in being created. Just as all humans will die at some point- long as their life spans are- all erasers will disappear. It is just a part of life. Have you ever read your owner’s writing?”

Bemused, I tell him that I have not. Why does he sound like the solution is so simple?

“Then you are missing out on a whole new plane of ideas. Try reading it next time, and you’ll see. We may have been made just to erase, but we make so many things easier for the humans. Without us, how many times would your owner be wasting pencil lead over scratching out her mistakes? Just how much cleaner did you make the paper, and how much was your owner able to improve her work with your help? You will only regain true peace of mind when you realize just how much you are involved in the creation of these masterpieces. Go forth, child, and learn. I bid you farewell!”

With that, Yorick leaves. My owner resumes writing after jokingly sending her friend away. Such a distracted girl. Yorick’s words leave me confused and bewildered, and I wonder how anything coming from a human like this can give my life any meaning. Within moments, she picks me up and begins to erase.

-----------------------------------

Haha, so I seem to be writing about the most random things-- the bus, and now an eraser? The bus was purely impulse; I just started riding the bus on my own today! I will no longer be ignorant of buses :) I want to ride with my friends some day. And the eraser... it was an assignment in my summer school class.

Today, our summer school teacher read picture books to us, as well as a Grimm Brothers' version of Cinderella. I just can't get that part -where the stepsisters' eyes get pecked out - out of my head :( And we're supposed to write a retelling of one or another version through another's point of view. One friend says that I should write from the point of view of the carnivorous (human-eye-eating) pigeons.

So thank you for reading! ~Lewis