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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

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The Miys, Ch. 88

Sophia, the day after her conversation with Tyche.

Thank you to @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose for keeping me going and on an even keel! Sorry the Author’s Note is so short... I didn’t realize until I had about 10 mins before I had to be back at work that I forgot to queue this for today *facepalm*

The next day was an entire education on new places I could be sore. A hot shower and analgesics only took the barest edge off, and I ended up needing a transport to get to my office instead of my routine walk. I did my best to ignore the grin on Conor’s face every time I moved too fast and winced. After the third time I scowled at him, I brought up my datapad and did some research, careful not to tap my legs as I gestured, which had become something of a habit.

“That snot,” I gasped. Conor glanced at me, so I clarified. “Tyche had me doing fencing footwork yesterday…. Intermediate footwork, it turns out. No wonder I’m so sore.”

“Least it wasn’t sparring,” he pointed out cheerfully, gently lifting my chin to get a look at my lip. “You should have let Noah heal that, love.”

I brushed my cheek against his hand. “I want the reminder. May even let her do it again once it heals.”

This time, it was his turn to scowl. “Not funny. That face has been bruised enough for one lifetime.” He gently rubbed my cheek as the transport stopped. “Okay, time to go be the boss. No fighting with the other kids.” Despite the joking tone, his eyes were serious as he leaned in to kiss me before he headed to his shift.

I realized that Alistair not only beat me to work, but could apparently hear me groaning as I tried to walk, because the door opened before I was even within three feet of it. True to form, he gave me an appraising look before his expression settled on my face. “Door get a bit mouthy today? Or did your feet decide you needed to stay home?”

“Tyche punched me, actually.” My tone was light as I inched my way to my desk. “For defending myself. And then she decided I need more ways to defend myself, so now I can hardly move.”

“Solid logic,” he deadpanned as he handed me a cup of coffee. “I feel obliged to point out that the coffee is hot, seeing as you display a disturbing propensity to get hurt.”

“Very funny.”

“You have been warned, et cetera, so on, so forth.” He waved a hand nonchalantly as he turned, bringing up my agenda for the day. “Your first meeting is the one to discuss medical testing ethics, criteria for volunteers, and determination of the necessity of the procedures. Then you have time set aside to review the status of the Galactic Core Curriculum, along with proposals for expanded learning topics and their existing analogues in the education systems of other planets - “ He paused and tilted his head. “I will never cease to be caught off guard when sentences like that exist.”

I restrained the urge to nod - or more accurately, my back twinged with a warning not to even consider it. “Believe me, I understand. Noah and I were talking about other species a few weeks ago. Did you know there is a species of avians out there who essentially live on a planet with no surface atmosphere?”

“The Preeyar, yes,” he sighed wistfully. “Knowing that Fermi was simply impatient has been quite eye-opening, so to speak.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” I conceded. “We were too young for extraterrestrial civilizations, we weren’t listening properly, they apparently weren’t trying to contact us until recently… But they do exist.” A smile crept on my face at the idea that we really hadn’t been alone in the universe.

My office door opened without warning, and a familiar voice chimed in as Alistair turned with clenched fists. “I do argue that we are entirely too dangerous to have been contacted.” Arthur Farro stood leaning against the frame, and Alistair relaxed marginally. “At least we were until relatively recently…. Throwing nuclear ordinance at each other the moment killing each other in the thousands - rather than the millions - stopped scratching that vicious itch. Who does that? We’re like demented eight-year-olds who got bored of burning ants and started setting each other’s hair on fire instead.”

“You really should keep that door secured,” my assistant sniffed as he closed out my agenda, right around the time he caught Arthur squinting at it.

“He has the code,” I admitted.

“Or maybe that was accidental,” our resident history teacher continued, ignoring us. “I’m a big fan of assuming stupidity instead of malice where possible. And, dear lord, does our track record make it plausible.” Finally entering the room, he flicked a finger at my face. “That was not, however.”

Before I could stop him, Alistair took one glance between me and my friend, and strode to the door. “No.”

“Alistair…”

“I’ll clear your calendar. No. Have a good day.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Arthur asked as the door closed behind my soon-to-be-ex assistant.

“That he’s a coward,” I muttered.

“You know damned well that’s not what I mean.”

“Tyche already decked me.” I gestured at my split lip and the bruise that bloomed on my chin overnight. “So, yeah, I know - “

“No, you really don’t seem to.”

“Arthur, stop.”

“I will not.” He stepped forward and placed both his hands, palms down, on my desk. He knew I hated that gesture. “Bjornson’s entire narrative hinges on you being more dangerous than anyone realizes, and you putting up a display of false helplessness to make everyone trust you. By decking one of his followers, not only did you show that you do, in fact, have violence in you - meaning that it’s now entirely plausible you’re as Machiavellian as they claim - but you’ve also gone and indicated for whatever reason that Jokull is enough of a threat to drop that premise.” Straightening, he crossed his arms in clear disappointment. “If you wanted to give him more credibility, good job. You succeeded.”

I swallowed every bit of hurt I felt at his words, reminding myself they were nowhere near as barbed as the ones Tyche had given me the day before. Instead, I tilted my head and arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you done? Did you say everything you needed to say?” I paused, giving him a chance to respond. When he didn’t, I poked harder. “Feel better?”

“Not particularly, but big picture? I’m not a terribly gleeful person, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. But yes, it is your turn now.”

“Gracious of you,” I cooed sarcastically. “Tyche made the same points yesterday, after punching me in the face, with the added gravitas of a guilt trip served with that special seasoning of having watched me almost die and thinking I abandoned her as a child. Also three hours with a rapier, whipping my ass. So. Far more impressive, I assure you.”

“Foiled again by the smaller Reid,” he sighed dramatically before catching himself. “Rapier, you say? I was going to say no pun intended, but I’ve decided I did that on purpose. Yep. Totally intentional.”

I rolled my eyes before pulling up my tunic to show the bruises on my midriff. “I’m not very good at it, for the record.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, saber’s a better style anyway. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my favorite.”

“Uh huh,” I nodded, not entirely convinced. “As far as Bjornson… seriously. She gave me the scoop. I seriously fubared the entire situation yesterday. Apparently, our suspected cult leader only believes in physical attacks on those who would defend themselves. No honor in beating a beaten foe, et cetera.”

“Mmm hmmm,” he nodded, like I was a student he was letting reach her own conclusion.

“Which means I just made it open season on Sophias,” I groaned.

“Really, saber is much better for brawling tactics,” he hedged.

I laughed bitterly. “Doesn’t matter. My walking privileges are revoked until further notice. Must be accompanied by one of six people, or two out of another ten, and on a transport.” The last word came out like a profanity. It was a known fact I hated using them.

Hence why I was now being forced to, unfortunately.

“If you think there is any possibility that I’m going to argue against Tyche on that decision, I need to talk to her about that head scan,” he told me pointedly. “Then again, you and I have different definitions of the word ‘think’, but I’ll be clear - it’s not happening. Moving target, faster than a walking pace, with a protective attachment? Which roster am I on, again?”

“Very funny. You already know.”

His expression softened slightly when he realized I was actually upset. “There is some good news in all of this.”

I threw up my hands and spun in my chair. “Oh, do tell, great military historian and warlord. What is the shining silver lining to the fact that I just gave a man who thinks I am the only thing standing between him and his New Start a golden ticket to sic his followers on me?”

“Okay, first off, sassy shit, my main career is a school teacher. I only moonlighted as a warlord to pay those apocalypse bills. Not my fault I was good at it.” Suddenly, he got serious. “The good new is, if he was too stupid to realize that your talent for inspiring loyalty meant you were a massive problem for any takeover plan, and a problem he’d have to deal with sooner or later….. Well, he’s probably too stupid to keep his little cult together much longer. Leaders who don’t recognize more than one kind of strength never manage to build a lasting legacy.”

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair…” I said, half to myself.

“Yeah, our guy is no Ramses II,” Arthur replied. “Besides, those who seek power are rarely good at keeping it.”

“I would have given him my seat on the Council if he’d just asked,” I admitted.

“Besides the fact that you literally just proved my point, if he was suited to the Council, he’d be on it. It’s not like you were the only candidate.”

I shrugged. “No idea. I didn’t even know I was on the Council for the first week. I think it was a week.”

When I turned to look at him, I was met with a flat stare. “I know it was explained to you at some point. How does that search function work?” He reached forward like he was going to tap my head before I swatted his hand away. “You were appointed to the Council to replace Simon, you represent a specific population on board the Ark, when we arrive at Von, you will serve an additional two planetary standard years before elections are held, of which you cannot be a candidate….”

Ugh. “I was put forward as a recommendation by Simon. The other Councillors put forward their candidates. The population I represent voted based on my personnel file, since no one even knew any of the candidates at that point. We’d only been on the Ark about six months. Some of us, anyway.” Glaring, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t know how you figured that out, but I have a feeling I’m going to kill someone.”

He waved a hand at me in a very familiar gesture. “I see other people do it all the time. Jog your memory, and some phrase or word triggers it. Cool to watch, though.” With a shrug, he continued. “Point is, Bjornson wasn’t even a candidate, same as me.”

“How do you know that?” I asked incredulously.

“Fuck, Sophia. You really need to keep track of your constituents.”

“Hey, I didn’t even want to be a - Wait. You are one of my so-called ‘constituents’!?”

“Even voted for you,” he grinned. “Didn’t know it was you-you, but… Communications background, peaceful but intelligent attributes to balance out our resident warhawk, fair enough to offset Huynh, and you seemed like the type to actually listen to Grey, Pranav, and Eino.” He shrugged. “To be fair, I was right.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #aliens #apocalypse #science fiction #original fiction #my writing #earth is space australia #humans are space orcs

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tearofisha · 4 years

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"Go to Mangeria IV, there you shall find an instrument of fate like yourself who will show you the way"

Aelinor Fatereader’s message was clear, and so Rishaeron made haste for the world at first opportunity. It was a backwater, Mangeria IV. The desert moon of its neighbour planet was a choking sandy hell the Imperium deigned little use for besides storing supplies, housing contraband and the garrison of a previously shamed Guard regiment.

And so the lonesome Ranger marched through the hellish dunes and wondered what he might find at the abandoned fortification in the distant south of the continent.

“Instrument of Fate” he repeated to himself. The name he was assigned since he re-purposed his life as a weapon for the Seer Council. Would a resourceful Inquisitor be waiting for a xenos contact? An Astartes emissary with a thousand years of bloodshed behind him? The possibilities were endless and the uncertainty made Rishaeron anxious. Nevertheless, he continued.

He made good time to the fortified position and through his scope, he made out the four tall walls of the abandoned fort, with impressive watchtowers at every corner dilapidated and dis-repaired. A large portion of the western wall had caved in so the Ranger walked silently inside with his senses scanning for information. It didn’t take long to find almost buried footsteps in the sand that led to an open door to one of the many gargantuan warehouses.

He approached silently, Ranger Long Rifle in hand and pressed the tip into the neck of a figure crouched over an open supply case. The figure stood straight instantly, and raised its arms above its head, letting out a nervous laugh as it did so.

“Is that a rifle, or are you happy to see me? Aha, but really, don’t shoot.” it spoke in Aeldari. Rishaeron took a step back and watched the figure carefully. He was slender and tall with dark hair brought high into an undercut ponytail with the signature Cameoline cloak over the colours of a Ranger from Alaitoc.

“It is rare for an Outcast to let down their guard, especially one from the world of Starstriders.” Rishaeron lowered his rifle slightly and took in the details of the interloper. He was young. Very young, in fact. The stringent paths of Alaitoc drives many of its children away and Rishaeron judged this one was no different. “I am Rishaeron Wayfinder, son of Ulthwe and instrument of the Seer Council. Who exactly are you?”

“Vir. Well, Virlandil. But Vir to my friends, wh-what are you doing out here, did someone send you?.” he said, nervously while making no subtle effort to obstruct Rishaeron’s view of the crate behind him. The Ulthweans frustration was obvious, for miles and for days he had marched to make this meeting and this is what he finds; an inexperienced youth lost in a desert.

“What are you hiding, Virlandil?” Rishaeron asked. Before Virlandil could make his excuses he was pushed out of the way and it was made obvious why he wished to hide it. Dreamleaf. The crate was absolutely packed with the soft drugs, the kind young Aeldari enjoyed in order to ‘expand their minds’.Before Rishaeron could so much as tut, Virlandil was spinning his yarn.

“Well. Um. Well, friend it’s um...” he stopped himself and affected a casual a stance as possible, his nerves making him suspiciously animated.

“Rishy. Can I call you Rishy? Anyway, this is not mine.In fact, it is the property of a Corsair band that use this planet to smuggle Dreamleaf. That’s it. Yeah. They smuggle it here and hide it and I’m here to stop it from being sold. By stealing it.”

Rishaeron couldn’t raise a sceptical eyebrow before he was interrupted by the rumbling tank treads of a Chimera and the raucous noise of a dozen men hastily getting out. The two Rangers were stunned and surrounded, staying put in their warehouse would mean certain death for both. with preternatural timing, Virlandil fell to his back and hid just as a figure began to stride past the door, before tugging hard on Rishaeron’s cloak, sending him sprawling to the ground on top of him. A heartbeat later, a Guardsman peeked its head into the warehouse for a long moment, before carrying on unaware of the intruders.

“12 of them and one tank. You won’t have any explosive charges on you, will you?” Rishaeron asked to a tense Virlandil, who managed a negative shake of the head in reply. “Are you good with that rifle?” another shake of the head came.

“Isha save me, do you have anything to help us here?”

“My Jetbike, it’s outside the walls if we get to it we can escape.” the Alaitocii whispered.

Rishaeron sighed, today was turning out very differently to how he expected.

“Touched by fate” he repeated Aelinor Fatereader’s words which sounded almost sarcastic in hindsight, to a confused Virlandil.

“To the Jetbike then.” Rishaeron concluded.

“On one condition.” the Alaitoc Outcast interrupted. “Help me get this out” he tapped the Dreamleaf crate with an almost intimate longing. Rishaeron nearly screamed, he was being asked to risk his life so a young Ranger could be higher than a Swooping Hawk. Knowing better than to negotiate at a time like this, the Ranger bit his tongue and agreed.

“I’ll scout out, wait for my signal” the Ulthwean warned, before replacing his cloak over his head and blending into the shadows. Silent steps led him undisturbed to outside the warehouse and he quickly observed the Guard around him. Ten men were placed at regular intervals, covering the perimeter of the fort while a Sergeant followed a Commissar as he made his inspections.

One or more Guardsmen would need to die unnoticed for their escape to work, and in their state of parade ground readiness with the Commissar nearby it would be hard to do distract them. Ruing the day he walked onto Mangeria’s worst planet, Rishaeron readied himself for his fools gambit.

He picked a nearby rock and whispered a quiet prayer, before throwing it as hard as he could at a group of barrels near the centre of the compound. An almighty clang rang out and the alarm was raised, Guardsmen scattered like ants to find the source of the noise.

“Now, go. Go!” he ushered Virlandil who strained to carry the packed crate. They would only have seconds and needed to make them count.

In the anxious energies of a rapidly escalating situation, the young Ranger stumbled and fell forward the heavy crate thudding into the ground.

“Shit. Shit, shit shit” he hissed, as Lasguns began to fire after him.

“Hurry, Vir. I’ll cover you.” Rishaeron hissed, firing a shot from his rifle that downed the nearest human with a short scream.

Rishaeron retreated as Lasgun fire chased him, a shot from his Shuriken Pistol downed another as Virlandil escaped through the destroyed piece of wall. But the humans were hot on the Ulthweans tail. He climbed up the nearest watch tower and directed his rifle onto the Guard below, slaying another in a spray of viscera. The Guard finally used their brains and set up in two ranks with a mixture of instruction and violent threats from the Commissar, the Chimera transport adding to the intense suppression fire Rishaeron was facing.The very structure he was in was crumbling under the weight of Las-fire and a burning shot struck him hard in the shoulder.

“Shit, where are you Virlandil?” he muttered to himself, clutching his rifle close.and breathing through the searing pain

“Well”, he reasoned,”If this is how it happens, I am ready. Time to go out with a bang.” he waited for the smallest break in shooting and levelled his rife. In the few heartbeats he had, time seemed to slow. Looking down his scope, he saw the weathered face and signature uniform of Commissar and pulled the trigger. The round went wide, striking the clavicle of the officer instead of the temple, but he fell back wounded all the same and it was enough for the fire to stop if only for a second or two. Rishaeron cursed. The last shot he would survive firing and he didn’t kill his target. He closed his eyes and waited.

“Rishy!” Virlandil cried from his Jetbike. “Come, quickly!”

He offered his hand to Rishaeron who accepted with a grunt of pain and without waiting, Virlandil sent his bike screaming away from the fort. Things didn’t add up, too many coincidences had happened in just a few minutes for the Ulthweans taste, and his experience meant he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

“Wait. Wait,go back.” Rishaeron spoke, realising the greater machinations behind his actions today.

“Are you crazy? We’re free!”

“Trust me, Vir. Take us back and keep us steady, I need you to see this through with me.”

It took a second, and Rishaeron wondered if his request would be followed, but the Alaitocii turned his Jetbike and held at the edge of the fort-made-depot. Their quarry lost, the Guard huddled around the wounded Commissar who was barking orders while a bandage was applied. Rishaeron took a steadying breath. His wound throbbed. The Jetbike struggled under the weight of two and bobbed. The mass of concerned humanity surrounding the Commissar. resembled bees buzzing around their queen and made the target even harder to hit.

He exhaled slowly, and fired. Blood stained the sand and walls around where the Commissars fell. A bolt placed firmly between his eyes..

“Bloody balls of Khaine, how did you do that?” Virlandil exclaimed.

“Practise.” came the reply.

“Lets get out of here Rishy, before you get anymore ridiculous ideas.” the young Ranger sassed.

Rishaeron smiled. He was a piece in a grand game today. He was supposed to be here, supposed to meet Virlandil, supposed to be discovered and finally supposed to kill that Commissar.

He clasped the shoulder of his unlikely companion as he drove, knowing he would have met his death today if not for the unusual Ranger..

Instrument of fate, indeed.

#Rishaeron #Virlandil #40k #Rangers #Craftworlds #Holy crap did this go longer than expected

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happywitch416 · 5 years

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11 Questions

Rules: answer the questions of the person who tagged you, come up with 11 new ones, and tag 11 new people.

Thanks for the tag @joufancyhuh

1. What do you require for sleep to happen?

A warmish shower followed by a nice lavender lotion. Then I have to lay down and play matching games on my phone for a bit with my eye mask scrunched on to my forehead. When I am finally ready to fall asleep I toss the phone and do a couple swipes of biofreeze and then I am out. It sounds complicated all typed out but eh. But yes, the biofreeze or my essential oil stick is a must, 90% of my migraines start while I am sleeping and it does help.

2. What book are you currently reading and how do you feel about it?

Crystal Storm by Morgan Rhodes. I am slightly irritated to be honest. This is book 5 of 6. Everything is love hexagon or needlessly stupid dramatic but I am on book 5 of 6. At this point I will finish this trainwreck. It would be better if the ages would stop being mentioned, I don’t want to be reminded these are teenagers. They don’t act like teenagers, and the very thought of “I just read the 18ish year old newlyweds banging” BOTHERS ME. You can do young adult with 20 somethings. It really is possible and won’t change that much. I have stuck around for the snark and the fact I can’t fathom how this will end without everyone dying. Well, more of everyone dying anyway. So much murder. Oh and I really want this one little bitch to straight up choke and die. Oh buddy do I not like her. Or her creepy undead brother. Or the fact everyone meets and immediately falls in love. What the shit dudes.

3. What’s a piece of pop culture you quote often?

May the odds be ever in your favor. I use it at least a dozen times a day in some capacity. The odds may not be in your favor.

4. What irrational fear do you have?

Whales. I love watching them, I love listening to whale song. However, my stomach is doing back flips, it is not relaxing. Beautiful creatures, but holy shit they are huge. They could just flatten you? We are ants beside them. The deep dark water also does not help. Oceans, especially in deep water, are so vast. I’ll stay on the beach, thanks!

5. What was the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a person or an animal?

I did not realize there was a possum in our tipped over trash can and went to set it up right. The possum and I screamed at each other until hubs came out to rescue us. Moose laughed.

I once met the fairy godmother of bikers at the grocery store.

6. Without saying where you’re from, what is an experience that sums up your hometown?

There is a petition before the city council in protest of the brick plant being torn down, it closed 20 years ago.

7. What’s your favorite thing to do in the summer?

Swim

8. What habits have you picked up from one of your parents?

I try so hard to not be those people. I can say my passive aggressive tendencies come straight from my mother.

9. What’s something that makes you laugh without fail?

Silly animals. Well done dick jokes. I may be an adult but my sense of humor is not.

10. Do you and your friends/siblings have any inside jokes?

Maybe? Its mostly cases of same sarcasm. Or interpretive facial expressions.

11. What’s something you wish for your writing?

For it to write itself.

My 11 questions

1. Favorite thing to drink?

2. What do you do when its hot outside?

3. Favorite lunch item from school?

4. What are your favorite pizza toppings?

5. What is the book you would rec the most?

6. Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. Which do you pick?

7. What is your most worn color?

8. Favorite pair of shoes? Or no shoes?

9. Whats your ideal trip?

10. What is your favorite comic series?

11. What song is currently stuck in your head?

@kaleidoscopegirl @rhetoricalrogue @pikapeppa @halfblood-fiend @darkkittymews @thesecondseal @slothquisitor

#hw memes #apparently my questions point to the fact I am hungry #lol

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immortalave-blog · 7 years

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Lost Girls an Wild things (a ten page story)

I resented them. I hated them. I wished they’d never found us. They came, they saw our way of life and they tried to put a “Dr..ees..sss.ee” on it.

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“The tribe of Sleeperentis overatus was an all-girl, No cooties, area. It’s a place where young girls can escape the troubles of stinky brothers, evil teddy bears, and broccoli.” Sinsin, the newest member of our tribe, followed me eagerly through the all you can eat candy buffet. “It’s a place of innovation and excitement. There is never a dull moment here, but if you find yourself not entertained, you can visit on of the many workshops located around the tribe grounds. For example, Sinestra teaches a workshop on finger painting every 30 seconds.” I pointed at Sinestra, who was laying back on a rock and snoring. A snot bubble grew and shrunk with her breath. “She looks like she’s on break right now, so it might be a while before the next class.”

We continued around the toadstool paint mixers and the braiding circles. I continued, “Sleeperentis Overatus is the place we come to in order to learn how earthworms feel when they are squished under our toes, how many crayons we can eat without being sick, and how to burn baby ants.” We passed the racecar tracks and the marble routes. We passed through the squishy frog pits and then we reached the edge of the highest hill.

I motioned to the view, “We are located on the outside edges of the Treehouse kingdom. On the opposite side from the tribe, “No girls allowed”. That’s where the boys are, and as shown by their group name, they are very uncreative. Our Kingdom is self-governed, self-sufficient, and self-….. I don’t remember what the third one was… But anyway,” I turned Sinsin to face the entirety of the tribe.

“As you can see our kingdom is made mostly out of what nature provided us with, and what we found around us. Blankets, stuffed animals, toothbrushes, pillows, and towels, were all put together for the betterment of our society. We built our mansions from the ground up, and we were all proud of it.” We took the soda pop slides down the big hill, which concluded our tour.

“My name is Cinder. I am one of the tribe council members her in Sleperentis Overatus. I have a degree is counting dust-bunnies, and I’m the tribe’s explosive/technical tantrums expert. Which makes me a leader in social justice throughout the community. I also have a strong inclination toward technical devices. Such as The Barbie cell phone, anamorpherators, and the G.I. Joe Jet plane. Ohh and don’t even try to build Legos better than me. I can tell you now, you can’t. I strongly believe everything a girl does should be messy, and if you aren’t covered in mud or finger paint, you’re doing it wrong. I have been in charge of this council for 15 min, and it has felt like years. The changes I have made have been beneficial to all. Especially me. What? Would you not create a drainage system out of Legos, fizzle sticks, and giant sponges that also double as a trampoline? I know I would, and I did. There is a story behind my name, but I’ll get into it later.

If you have any problems at all, contact Morgana. She’s the eldest, and she will know what to do.” I paused and looked at my watch, “Ohh popsicles, I’m late” I said aloud, and ran to the Council center. It was an important meeting place because I was running it.

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“What’s a Dress?” Toranu asked. She was sitting on one of the cut up logs surrounding the elevated sandbox that functions as our round table.

“It is something that binds you,” I said as I stared into her eyes. ”It covers your skin, but not like armor. Its material is weak, and could easily be shredded by a winged worm, much less a Hanectin. It’s like they aren’t even accounting for them. They are stupid, primitive beings.”

“Is it true they wear armor on their feet?” Saratoni asked. She was sitting cross-legged, as always, on the log she occupied… show off.

“It is true,” I continued,” Their feet do not have the strength that ours do. They fear the hot ground. Sheltering their feet from their true calloused potential. Their worst offense is that these shoeeesss are for fashion more than they are for utility. But that’s just the beginning. Have you all heard their worst offense?” The council leaned forward. Their eyes wide. They leaned forward in anticip…

“That’s enough Cinder.” Morgana stood. ”There is no need to scare them.” She stood up and got onto the table. She did it with such grace and efficiency. Whereas when I had done it, I had stumbled and almost fallen. Her robes, made by silkworms and spiders shimmered in the afternoon light. My robes were made of an old potato sack and dental floss. They were covered in mud still wet from the Soda pop falls. Her hair was long and clean, whereas mine was short and choppy. Basically, she made me feel inferior just with her presence, and that’s why I respected her so much.

I took the seat she had left to silence me. I felt useless, all the attention that I had worked hard for was stolen away by Morgana. It didn’t help she was had been my BFF forever.

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Grizzledomor: (A.K.A: Bearded Dad) Known for Their facial hair, Often tells jokes that are only amusing to each other. Commonly known as “Dad Jokes”. They are not usually violent and spend most of their time with Hearthrops.

Hearthrops: (A.K.A. “the mom card”) these creatures are very much caring….until they are not, they despise messy spaces, and often clean them. They spend all day “Nagging” their partners.

Disclaimer: Any and all combinations of Grizzledomors and Hearthrops can exist. All is socially, economically, and politically acceptable.

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“Why’d you do that? I had their interest. I could change their minds. I had them.”

“You had them in fear Cinder,” Morgana said. “That is not how you lead a tribe. Not through fear, through hope.”

“You’re wrong. They believed me.” I crossed my arms in my patented professional tantrum position.

“You are not pulling that malarkey on me,” I kept my pouty face at a prime. “You will never learn. How are you going to run this tribe? You are not ready” She said the last quip firmly.

“You BUTTERSCOTCH!” I screamed, and I stormed away. I went straight to my bed and grumbled until I pouted myself out, and I fell asleep

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The next day the council met, but Morgana wasn’t there. It was weird because she was always 15 min early or 15 min late. This time she was neither. I went to her Victorian treehouse mansion. It took me 30 seconds, but when I returned with no Morgana, the council was asleep. When they awoke, they panicked.

“This is an outrage,” Hilenestra said. “That was the last straw, we are all scared.”

“I understand, but we cannot rush into action. We need to figure out where she is “

“But the tribe, Sleeperentis Overatus, Must prevail,” I said. “But without morgana who will take charge?”

“Does anyone have any ideas?” Toranu said.

The council hushed, waited for anyone to speak. No one did. Then all eyes turned towards me.

“What if we sent someone after her?” I said, “Find out where she went.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Saratoni “Is anyone willing to go?”

After a moment of silence, council members decided in the ancient traditional way. Their fingers snapped to touch the tip of their noses being careful not to smudge their war paint.

I was the last, but only by a millisecond.

“Wait but I’m not qualif…”

“Hush,” Saratoni said. “You are plenty qualified for this mission. If you require assistance you may take one other with you, but that is it. We cannot spare anyone else.” Everyone, except for me, stomped their feet and the session was adjourned.

What had I gotten myself into?

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No one was brave enough to come with me, and I didn’t blame them. So instead, I took my teddy bear named Kenai with me. He was good company and seriously loved eating grilled cheese sandwiches. Which I packed in my backpack, along with juice boxes, some nerds candy rope, a hellomacdula for disguise, and my cocooned caterpillar Peeps. He was still in his cage so I put him in the bottom of my backpack for safe keeping. I was far from ready, but it was time to go. The Tribe was waiting for me at the tribe gates.

“You’ll do great,” Sinsin whispered and winked at me. Hannara was on her left. She was the officially official war paint artist. She grabbed some toothpaste from her bag; she mixed it with mud, berries, melted crayon, and glitter glue. She then took two fingers, scooped up some of the goo and put it on my face. I will not lie. It hurt, but I didn’t want to look as scared as I was. So I took a breath, my eyes watered from the toothpaste, turned towards the door, I inhaled some glitter glue, and headed out of the camp. I started walking, and after 2 seconds, my thoughts got the best of me.

Earlier I was talking about my name. My name is Cinder. It was given to me by Morgana when I was first accepted into Sleperentis Overatus. It’s a strange name, isn’t it? But I like it because it’s just as unique as I am. I think. It’s so weird to think about the tribe without Morgana. She had been a pivotal point in the development of the tribe, and of me. I used to not be able to control my explosive tantrums at all. Honestly, they kept me from a lot of things. Especially other people. But Morgana had taught me to control my power, and harness it for good. She and I used to practice, all the time. So that’s where I think I got my name. I was the Cinders left after an uncontrolled fire.

“Cinder? As in Cinderella?” a low grumbling voice echoed on the branches.

Ohh no, I thought

“Are you a girl? Or an Ember?” It grumbled, “Because IIIIII am hungry, and if you’re a girl I can eat you, but if you aren’t then I cannot.

What is it? I thought.

“C’mon, you know me. I can see that you know me. Come out and play”

“Ohh no,” I said.

“Ohh yesss”

Before the Gossishnuzzle finished its last “S”. I was running.

No, don’t talk to me. You don’t get to know me because my secrets are mine. You will not change them.

Vines seemed to grow up from the forest. They snagged onto my bare feet and I fell face first on a gray cement square.

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

Gossishnuzzle: A.K.A: Rumor Weed. This nasty little vermin will disguise itself as your friend until you tell it something it can use. Rumor Weeds once started, are difficult to stop. They tell everyone half-truths about you. That are usually quite embarrassing.

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

My veins were throbbing with the weight of my movements.

If I stay here, they’ll come and save me. Stay in one spot when you realize you’re lost.

Wait…what? No. No one will save you, you’re on your own

I should run….Run.

I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t. I turned over onto my back and looked at my foot. It was wrapped in vines. Lime green colored and smelled of dandelion, and somewhat disgusting looking.

“That’s not very nice,” It said. The vines molded and grew until it made a shape that resembled, well me except it looked older. Kinda like Morgana’s age. Which was weird. It also wore one of those “Dresssss” Things. Its grip was tightening.

“Do you like it?” The Rumor Weed asked.

“It’s so yellow,” I said.

“Yes, it is,” The Rumor Weed loosened its grip on my leg as it showed off its pale yellow dress. “It was dyed with Mustard, and soaked in dandelion juice.

“No, it wasn’t,” I said.

“Yes, it was.” The Rumor weed crossed her arms in my professional patented pouty stance and stuck up her nose.

Sockertoph, do I look like that? I thought. How Childish.

“It would be sticky and gross if that had happened to it,” I snapped at it. It stuck its nose higher.

“How would you know? Huh? You are a technical dress dying, expert.”

“You’re right.” I said,” but I do have common sense, and have eaten my fair share of both mustard and dandelion flowers. So I would say I know enough to say that your dress was not dyed with that.”

With this, the rumor weed turned towards me. She balled her hands into fists and flung them down by her side. Her shoulder then rushed up to her ears, and she took a big gulp in and held her breath. Her vines loosened.

“I bet you can’t hold your breath longer than I can stick out my tongue.” I teased. She accepted the bait, and the vines loosened even more. I stuck out my tongue. With a little squirming, and since the rumor weed wasn’t breathing I was able to kick my foot free. She didn’t try to stop me. She was too focused on winning. To focused on being better than me. So I stood up and gathered my things. She hadn’t moved the whole time. I turned towards her. Pointed at the tongue, that was now dry, but still sticking out of my mouth. I then turned and walked away.

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

Soon after my encounter with the Rumor Weed/Gossishnuzzle, I put my tongue back in my mouth. It was super dry so I grabbed a Juice pouch from my backpack, and after first giving some to Kenai, I drank it.

Respect the pouch, Respect it. I thought.

Then I blew up the pouch with the air in my lungs and saved it for later. You never know when you’ll need a good explosive. I was tired, and I was almost to where I thought Morgana would have gone. Why did I think this? You may ask yourself this, but let me tell you it’s for me to know and you to find ou….Just kidding I’ll tell you. The Candy Land trail, it was the game that Morgana and I Used to play between Pitshals, and Flabbernuggets. If she had gone anywhere, it would be the candy castle.

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After I took an impromptu nap, I started on my quest again. I decided I was wasting too much time trying to feed Kenai grilled cheese sandwiches. He was hungry. I was sure, but he was mad at me because I made him miss his tea party date with Stratoni’s Pegasus.

Bears am I right.

After some wandering I found the trail, I had been looking for. It was the shortcut that would lead me directly to the palace, but I had to hurry because it was getting late. I walked up to the fork in the road and heard a grunt. Leaning against the arrow sign was a girl a little older than me. Her face was entirely covered in make-up, her hair was just as black as her clothes, and her boots squeaked when she moved them.

“Don’t bother” It said.

“Why not?” I snapped, “Why do you think you can tell me what to do?”

“I don’t care,” she said, “At least I’m not as bad as parents, am I right?”

“Parents?” I inquired.

“You don’t have parents? You’re lucky. All they do is yell, nag, yell, and I got sick of it. I’m my own independent woman, and they’re sitting like….”

(I censored the next few things this girl said. She used some language I am unfamiliar with, but I doubt is appropriate for young readers, you’re welcome.)

I left the, what I later found out was a Teenangster, with herself as she seemed to be self-destructing, and took the “Gloppy trail” This was the short cut the Candy Castle.

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

It was starting to get dark, and I didn’t have a plan.

Ohh numbnuts, I thought. You didn’t pack anything for sleeping. So I kept walking. Kept walking. Kept walking, until I yawned one too many times. Then I found my salvation. I saw an old cottage that seemed to be made of pillows. They looked nice, and warm, and comfy. So naturally, I knocked on the bedsheet door.

An Old lady opened it. “Caroline? Caroline? Is that you?”

“No, I’m Cinder.”

“Ohh thank goodness, Caroline. The McDonalds have been calling for hours saying that you just left the…..without a word…blah blah blah…”

The lady seemed to grumble on and on for hours. While she did this, I noticed something very peculiar.

I interrupted her, “Are you blind?” I said.

“Why yes, yes I am.” The old lady replied.

“Why are you blind?” I asked.

“Well,” she said. “I’ll tell you that when you’re older.” She then motioned for me to come inside.

“But wait,” I stopped her by grabbing her hands, “I am older, I’m older than I was when you said,” I mimicked her voice as best I could, which in my opinion, it was spot on, “’I’ll tell you when you’re older’ so tell me now.”

“Alrighty, but first let’s get you inside. You must be getting cold”

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After some warm soup and a bathroom break, we sat down next to the fire. We were sipping hot chocolate, but it was too hot to drink so I set mine down and waited.

“Now will you tell me?”

“Alright fine Caroline,” I edged closer. “What do you see when you look at me?”

I was taken aback, “Ummm…” I struggled for words, “An older lady with blue tie dye dress, a scarf that doesn’t match, and sneakers with socks that also don’t match. Who likes sunhats, and is blind.”

“Now isn’t that interesting. Did you notice what you didn’t mention?” she paused,” No? What about my spunky attitude, my slight drawl when I say words with the letter W, what about what’s not on the surface?”

With this foreign idea in my mind, I sipped some hot cocoa, and then promptly realized it was far too hot. The old lady stood up and made her way to the wall mirror.

“C’mere Caroline.”

I obeyed. Tell me what you see when you look in this mirror.

“My hair is…longer than it used to be, and a lot less choppy. I stand up straighter and seem to look kind of like Morgana… MORGANA.”

Ohh my geez how could I forget

I knew what this lady was now, A Hearthrop. How could I have been so foolish? I moved slowly towards my backpack that lay on the side of the door.

“You want to know what I see.”

“You can’t see. You’re blind.” After that remark, I kept my mouth shut. I was almost at my backpack.

“I see a young lady who is growing up too fast and is going to lose her childhood. She’s scared of growing up, and she needs to know. She doesn’t have to…”

I snatched my back and ran through the bed sheet door. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore, and then I kept going. It was until I stopped that I realized I had been crying.

Potato, Potato, you idiot potato. What were you thinking?

Don’t cry anymore.

Don’t let her know she got to you.

You’re stronger than this.

I collapsed against a wall, my spine slid down the rough hard candy texture until my but collided with the soft candy sand ground.

She got to you, I thought.

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

Candy castle. I stood up and looked at the wall behind me. It expanded into a giant fortress. I, regardless of my other qualifications, was not an expert at infiltrating candy castles. So instead, I made my way around to the front door and knocked. A Grizzledomor answered the door.

“Hello? Who are you?”

“I….I… is M-oo-o-rrogan---…”

“Morgan!” He shouted at the castle behind him. “Are you babysitting today?”

“No?” I heard from the inside of the castle. “Why?”

“There’s someone here to see you?”

“That’s odd, why would someone be here….” Her face fell as she saw me.

“Caroline, your mom has been looking everywhere for you, what in the world. She’s worried sick.” I stood there stunned. “Well c’mon in” she grabbed my arm and pulled me into the house, she then motioned for her father to call my mother. She took me up the stairs and into her bedroom. Her hair was now a different color than it used to be, and her face was painted in a way that made her seem unfamiliar. It was make-up, I knew about that. Teenagers wore it to be unique.

“Listen, Caroline...”

“That’s not my name. My name is Cinder.”

She grimaced, “Cinder”.

I cut her off, “Why did you leave?”

“What do you mean?” She replied.

“You left the tribe, almost a day ago. Without saying goodbye.”

“Caro-…Cinder. You knew I was leaving early from our birthday party. I had horseback riding lessons in the morning. Don’t you remember?”

“Our birthday party?”

“Yeah, we celebrated mine late and yours early because both our birthdays is on a school day. I turned 13 last week, and you will actually be 13 right about…now.”

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“Well? Cinder?” Megan asked, “Do you feel any different?”

I looked up at the mirror on Megan’s wall. I stood up and walked towards it. It wasn’t until I got closer that I noticed and stopped, and turned towards her and inquired.

“Who’s Cinder?”

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