Random Jordan's Blog, page 14

Three Sixty-Six: Entry 43

Day 43: Three Sixty-Six

1323 AE,

The bell rung to sound for dinner, but I was already leaping into the night from my window. This wasn’t the first time I was skipping dinner, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time I end up scolded for it later. But I had to go this time. Even more so than any others. Because I needed to help someone, even if they hate me for it.

I raced across the grove, leaving behind the plant that I called my home along with fifteen others. I had moved through this grove hundreds of times, so many that I could do it with my eyes closed and it would never be an issue. Some leaves crunched under my feet as I carried myself to an entirely different area of the massive forest. An area I had never actually been to before, but my feet knew it just as well as the path I had taken to get to it.

The dream I had awoken from with my nap had stirred something inside me. We call it a waking dream among us. For it wasn’t the dream I had known before sprouting. But it felt so similar, it guided me, and woke me immediately. I knew what I had to do, because of that dream.

My hands glided across the branch banister as I shifted down the congregation of homes all around me. I was throwing glances every which way, because I wasn’t sure which building I needed. So I closed my eyes instead, and a shivering feeling overcame my body as my feet led me to the door I needed. I had to trust my body more than anything, it knew what to do.

My foot snapped up to kick the door in, while I ascended the steps to find him hanging over her with a knife. My rifle was in my hands before I knew it, and the barrel was planted against the man’s head petals. He clearly understood my intention. My eyes shifted to the girl on the floor, there was fear ingrained in her eyes, not from me, but for me.

The man turned slowly so my barrel was against his forehead and stared at me, his knife hanging in his hand at the side. It was then that I knew why. The same face in my dream, not just the dream I had now, but the face of someone I had seen in my dream before I was birthed.

“The knight…” I had breathed. And he looked at me with a knowing smile, as though it was obvious I would do nothing against him now that I knew who he was. My hand trembled but my face and eyes were placid and strong. I stared right back into his eyes and fired my rifle straight through his forehead.

He hit the floor with his liquids bursting everywhere and I shifted around to stand in front of the girl, shielding her from the sight and the liquids gushing to spray her. She was screaming anyway as I took one more shot into the Knight’s chest to make sure he was disposed of.

Then I turned around and crouched low to her, giving the only smile I could muster, as I set my rifle away. “Be strong. That doesn’t mean don’t cry. Just be strong. Never let yourself fall into a situation like this again.”

I lifted up and turned away. She was sniffling and stood before her voice trickled out, “B-but… what do I do now? How…”

I spun back around and took a deep breath. “You become strong. Prove him wrong. And do exactly what I did, for other people. Even those you don’t know. Learn to stand on your two feet petals. Then when you can keep standing up after falling down, that is when you teach others to do it too.”

A draft blew past me as I was gone from that room. I knew not why I had done what I had, or the reason for what I had said. Only that it would be important. For all I knew, one day that girl would save me, and teach me a lesson.

I just hope it will be the right lesson.

~Kallipygos~

Three Sixty-Six: Entry 42

Day 42: Three Sixty-Six

March 12th 1640,

The first day of flight is ready. Of Flight! I never thought this dream would really come true. The first ship to float on air! Well technically it doesn’t float, but that isn’t the point. For the first time there will be fight by a human. By me! I’ll be the first human ever to fly.

And it only took twenty years of commitment and devoting myself to practically inventing an entirely new science. Though that was my advantage. Because i didn’t need special classes, or college, just the basics I picked up from normal school and then a lot of mechanics and studying of the air. It’s a good thing too, since I’m not actually allowed to go to the more advanced schools.

And the result was my creation. The magpie class personal auto flight machine. I really have to come up with a better name than that, but I just call her the Magpie. She’s practically my daughter with how much I’ve put into her and how precious she has become to me.

No one but my family believe in me and magpie. Everyone thinks being able to fly is non-sense, especially with a machine since most of them are so heavy. Everyone keeps reminding me that the air is for God and birds, and I am neither. That’s why I called her Magpie though. She’s the bird that will let me soar with her.

Although the only reason I am even getting this day of flight is because my sister took my place when the templars came looking for me. My mom had warned me that some people wouldn’t like my work, especially since I was encroaching on God’s territory. She said my machine will likely never go anywhere beyond the shop. There were too many forces that would stop me and it. They already destroyed my original schematics of the device when they took my sister away.

Maybe she is right, but I don’t care at this point. I didn’t do this for money or glory. I’m doing this simply because I want to fly. I want the freedom of the open air. Funny, as soon as I do fly, I won’t ever have freedom again. I can’t let my sister take the blame. Even if I could fly away today and never look back.

My father still pulled together a couple of companies he had connections too. That was probably how it got out to the templars. He wanted me to do the first flight in front of some people who might be interested. If everything really does go well, maybe more people will get to experience that child-like joy of fulfilling the old dream of flying.

My dad says I’ll be down in the history books for this. The first real flight. All because of my simple dream of wanting to fly.

Who am I kidding? Magpie, and every document I have on her will be destroyed before I even finish landing the first test flight today. The Templars are that ruthless. Especially with science.

That won’t stop me from trying though. Besides, I have a few tricks that might surprise those templars.

Heh. Magpie, don’t let me down.

- Kasa

Three Sixty-Six: Entry 41

Day 41: Three Sixty-Six

March 20th 1623,

I hide in the shadows. No, I am the shadows. The darkness contains me like a mother’s womb which I am newly born from. I revel in the night, never letting on my true agenda.

Black is the color of my life. And I move with it on as though I was the night itself, carrying the stars and moon with me. Not even the sun can hold fast against me. For even it must eventually fall, like all of my enemies and victims.

The sun is not my concern though. The master of a village is, for the time being. Once he is disposed of, I will find my new concern. But it will never be the sun, or anything I cannot touch with my two hands, or more importantly my blades.

A shinobi never reveals their weapon until necessary. None of my victims ever even see a blade. Most of them never even see me before they are curled up on the floor with blood pooling from their body. For a shinobi never reveals themselves until necessary.

That is who I am, that is what I will always be. For even as a child I had been training to be the kind of spy so wanted by many nations. Even though they do not understand what we are truly capable of. They especially do not realize how trained I had been from the beginning and just why not a single being has even seen me before their swift death or even just the loss of their important information.

Time is my ally, I command it so perfectly and brilliantly. Not even other shinobi realize just what I am capable of. Until they attempt to usurp me. For when I say time is my ally, I mean it to the most extreme degree. I can manipulate time to wonderful levels. Performing feats that no one else can dare touch, even the reversal of mistakes becomes possible. A skill so many would kill for, yet I kill with it instead.

My mother and father were afraid of my talents, but my uncle saw the beauty in it. He trained me to be the ninja I am today. He showed me my power and helped me learn to use it.

Now I am the Shinobi of Time. And not a soul can defeat me.

- Temura

Three Sixty-Six: Entry 40

Day 40: Three Sixty-Six

November 19th 2002,

People are often surprised when I state my occupation so plainly. Unfortunately not surprised enough that they don’t call the authorities after me. But that’s the life of a proud pirate like me. Council member of my vessel and more than happy with the life offered to me. Even if I often am running from the souls of the guards after me.

They shan’t ever catch me. They couldn’t, or at least they wouldn’t. It was often far too much excitement to chase me all over a town rather than be waiting for something to happen. That’s what I was, the excitement.

They knew eventually I would be back to cause more trouble and we would have a gay time as they chased me. We might even have a sword fight or two. We all know it is in good fun and I had to make my mischief seem real and unplanned just like a real pirate. Even if I do announce what I am, which isn’t really all that much like a pirate. I have to say it, because being a pirate is what I am, even if I only get to do it one weekend a year.

My perfect weekend.

If I could, I would become Jocelyn La’pour, the Rose Pirate for all my life. But I am satisfied with three days out of the year. At least I hope I am. I’m sure I would be happier with more time, but a pirate in today’s time would do me no good, they are just not the same. They never will be the same as the Victorian pirates. The ones romanced so much. And I could never be an actor that solely did pirate jobs, it just wasn’t realistic.

So I accept my three days of fantasy and cherish every second of it, before I am forced back in the darkness that is my desk job.

At least I have comfort in knowing they will never catch:

The Rose Pirate.

Three Sixty-Six: Entry 39

Day 39: Three Sixty-Six

April 13th 2007,

She said I was absolutely handsome. She’s not the first, I’ve heard it so many times I’ve lost even the amusement of being connected to that word. It was the absolutely that caught my attention though. It was like she was confirming that she knew I had already become jaded to being called handsome. She laughed at me when she saw my surprise and I had explained. The she asked me if I could be a more permanent escort to all her functions, and quite bluntly added that it included her bed.

Her bed. She was clear to make sure I recognized what she said and I blushed. She smiled and said I looked cute. I had been told that before as well. Especially about my butt.

There was only one way out of this. So I told her I didn’t have the parts she was looking for. Her face grew harsh and she practically yelled, asking me if I was really a man.

Of course I wasn’t. I never had been, even if others had seen me as one for much of my life. It was how I even got this job. A party escort for rich gay women, women like sheila before me. I could pass for a man with tuxes on and give the impression they had a man in their life so they could keep staying in the closet. But my touch was soft, my face clean and gentle, my hair semi-long. I was the feminine touch a gay woman still wanted while looking as a young man. Some of them were so convinced of my disguise as a man that they fooled around with me just to see if I really was female. I’ve been felt up numerous times by my contractors, and every single one of them had kissed me at least once, including Sheila.

But I could never be a true escort to them. I couldn’t go home with them and give them the night they needed after needing to act so fake with the people of their business. Because when I gave Sheila my answer, I was being honest. My crotch were arranged differently than any of the wonderful women I escorted would want. I knew for sure since one of them stuck their hand down my pants before pulling it out and slapping me.

Don’t worry, I’m jaded to physical pain too. Before being an escort to gay women, I’ve been a break-up boyfriend, or the date to make an ex jealous, or worse for plenty of my friends and other people requested of me. And not all the time was I pretending to be male.

Sheila startled me when she grabbed me and tore at my shirt. I pulled away but her swipes had already severed my shirt to leave it hanging open and exposing the wrapping I wore over my breasts. She looked confused. So I said it to her bluntly. I didn’t have a vagina.

Yet.

I hoped to soon, even if I do always continue to play the man, I wasn’t one, it was just a part for me to play. I wasn’t even that butch really.

She stepped in close to me again and now was when I expected the slap, but it didn’t come. There wasn’t even a kick to the crotch, or a punch or worse. No, Sheila caressed my cheek with the back of her hand, then she felt my lips, and ran her hand through my hair, slid down my arms, patted at my chest to feel the bound mounds and settled her hands at my hips. She pulled me close against her and kissed me deeply. I gasped in surprise when we broke away. She still held me.

She said I felt femme enough to her, even if I acted so butch. So long as she had a soft, warm, lovely and beautiful body of a wonderful woman like me then she didn’t care if I had small breasts or big ones, long or short hair, or even what parts I may have.

I practically jumped in to her arms and kissed her. My eyes were alight with so much life and energy in that moment. I must have surprised her. But I couldn’t contain my pent-up emotions further. She was the first one to call me beautiful and actually mean it.

Not handsome… or cute… but beautiful.

I could have kissed her all night.

So I did.

Three Sixty-Six: Entry 38

Day 38: Three Sixty-Six

Twelve days till the fourth low tide of magic,

It was thousands of years ago that Atlantis sunk and yet every day the king acts like it had just happened. My father can be so childish like that. He’s always worrying about the smallest details, when there are so many other matters to attend to. Like making sure the surface dwellers do not find us, now that there technology has been advancing closer to us. Especially for the small time when Atlantis will rise again. Which is very soon.

My father is worried it will be found, but the magic keeping it hidden is far too perfect. It is my magic after all. His worry suggests he doesn’t trust me or my talents. And that worries me more, especially after so many years. I swear he knows something I am not aware of, but every time I ask he pushes it off. Until I finally got it out of my mother instead.

The rise of Atlantis happens to coincide with the low tide of magic. We won’t have an ounce of it by the time we reach the surface. Luckily thanks to the previous low tides we at least have a method of making sure we reach the surface without death. But my magics that kept us hidden before will be undone.

For the first time since the original sinking of Atlantis, we might be forced to interact with society above ground, beyond the occasional fisherman. We might be forced to, considering their advanced technology, it was unlikely we could get away with our land not being discovered without the magical talents we had before. Every year even underwater we run the risk of them getting closer, submerging even closer to us that before with their fancy metal trappings.

I fear for the people, just as my father does. Compared to this new upper world and without magic, we are nothing. We may have surpassed others and use some more advanced devices thousands of years ago, but the upper world uses so many metals and devices we have never seen before. If it came to war, many of the Atlanteans cannot fight either, except maybe our fishermen who have held off giant squid and other annoyances.

If it came to a point that we have to defend our home, we might have to hold them off as best we can, until the magic tide rises again.

That is our best hope. That is my best hope. As the only other thing, that I’m sure my father concluded as well, is to have me marry some royalty of a high power above the land and use them to aid our protection.

And that I could not bear.

- Azalea

Three Sixty-Six: Entry 37

Day 37: Three Sixty-Six

Day thirty-seven in captivity,

The cats have me. Things look even more severe than grim. I suspected they were using us as guinea pigs in place of the guinea pigs for a variety of projects no cat should have been doing. And I was certainly right. My death will be through these elixirs they does me with. I know it.

I can hear the cries of other dogs down the hallway. They locked us in cages like our ancestors used to be so very long ago. I can only imagine how many of us have died in these cages from the experiments they conduct. I’m afraid my death is already to come, whether or not they dose me anymore. My body has grown weaker, I can’t even lift my tail anymore. The food only makes me even more hungry than before. They feed us left over cat food, the wet kind so I have filled my cage with wet droppings and am left with a small area to sleep. They don’t clean our cages of course.

There is talk down the line that we might be getting moved. I couldn’t understand why, maybe because a group comes to try to save us. But I’m leaving this note in hopes it might be discovered when we do get moved and whoever comes after us as scouted the place.

They keep us in unusually sized warehouses. From the supply, I believe the next area, just as this one will be on the outskirts of cat territory. It is the only place such large warehouses are kept. I’m sorry I could not be of more use.

I simply pray to the great dog that this reaches someone who is not a cat. And please tell my pups that I love them.

Good Luck,

Rex