In Progress Firefly's Folly

Harlequin · Apr 17, 2009

Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

Blackwood Manor
Firefly's Folly

Summary

There is a school, deep inside the Blackwood Forest of Spyr Darr. The students at this school are taught vital skills for the future: demonology, hand-to-hand combat, and various obscure sciences and arcane arts, all with the goal of training an elite fighting force, fighting against what some call "lusus naturae" and what others call "freaks."

This year is not like the others. This year is different. This year will be Hell.

Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
An Interlude: Letters from A Most Delicate Correspondence
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen

Images/Diagrams/Maps

The Palace at Blackwood (ground floor):

Harlequin · Apr 17, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Blackwood Manor[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Firefly's Folly[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]One[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]The grand, once-crumbling façade of Blackwood Manor opened its doors once again to students ranging from ten years old to its older, more mature inhabitants and staff. The soft pink hue of the building hid a more serious purpose; the centuries-old manor was home to a school tasked with the training of elite squads, squads who would, upon completion of their studies, travel the world to eradicate the plague of the lusus naturae.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]A tall, austere-looking woman stood in front of the grand, polished oak doors, her near-platinum hair tied into a severe bun. A sleek, practical black uniform covered her lean body, and she watched, eagle-eyed, as a procession of horse-drawn carriages made their way in a stately procession up the long, wide pathway to the house.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Arranged before her were ten groups of four people, each wearing uniforms that deviated only slightly from the woman's own. Standing behind the ten squads were the senior teaching staff, foremost among which was a tall, busty woman with a sharp face. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]And so it begins,” said the busty woman, stepping back slightly to fall in line with the woman by the door.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Hush,” she replied, her voice lacking the conviction necessary to quiet the other woman. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]A new year, new students...” mused the busty woman.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Your Sierra is in her sixth year,” said the austere woman. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Not now, Elle,” she replied, her voice soft and quiet. Elle smiled, her white teeth showing between her red-painted lips. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]So now you agree with me, Siaran,” said Elle, smirking. “They're here.” she said, nodding her head toward the carriages. They had stopped in front of the gathered people. [/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]The seventh year students exited their carriages first, each carriage containing four passengers. As the students from other years left their own carriages, the squads of four lined up in front of the staff. The youngest and newest students clumsily fell into line along with the older students.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Elle stepped forward when each of the squads had moved into place and stood before the gathered students.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Welcome to another year at Blackwood Manor. I hope I do not need to say that I am Elle Kilgaran, Director and Headmistress of Blackwood Manor. It is my sincerest hope that you all enjoy this year at the school.”[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Just as Elle finished speaking, the wind picked up and howled through the trees. Ignoring it, Siaran stepped forward and addressed the students.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Seventh years, move out!” she said, directing the seventh years toward the doors. In perfect unison they marched into the school. “Sixth years. Auditorium.”[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]The tall blonde woman did not bother to wait for the sixth years to start moving. Almost immediately she issued orders to the third, fourth and fifth years, who followed the upperclassmen into the building. That year, there were no first and second years, as Elle had refused any new students. [/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]In the somewhat understated auditorium, Elle Kilgaran stood behind a podium serenely, watching as her twenty sixth years sat quietly in front of her. Some of her senior staff had had qualms about running the school in something of a military fashion, but with two successful graduations and the cool, ordered discipline of her students, Elle had been proven right.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Welcome back for another year at Blackwood Manor,” she began. She paused and looked each student in the eye. Behind her, she could hear Squad XI fidgeting. “As you have entered your sixth and penultimate year at the school, each squad will be offered a chance to forego the final year of training and enter the active roster. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Through a series of gruelling tasks and obstacle courses, you will be tested. This will be unlike anything you have ever faced before, and as such, you have one week to decide whether the Inter Squad Championship is something you would like to do. There is no shame in dropping out of the contest; we understand how difficult it is, and there is the possibility that you are not yet ready.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]However,” she said, taking a breath, “I would not feel comfortable as the director of studies putting you through this if I did not feel each squad is capable of completing the competition. If your squad is not participating, I will need a signed letter explaining why, delivered by the squad leader.” Elle smiled. “The competition can not take place with fewer than three squads. Now, here is Squad XI, here to talk to you about their win last year.”[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Elle stepped back from the podium and allowed the four immaculately dressed young men and women to stand centre-stage. Each of them wore the same black uniform as the sixth years, but with a subtle difference: where the students had the school logo, each member of Squad XI had, in silver script, their name and squad number.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Elle leaned against the thick stone walls, and absently caressed the marble veneer. She knew that all five squads would participate: it was seen as shameful to drop out, even though the competition was almost as hard as active duty. One of them would win, of course; in life there are winners and losers, and Elle certainly wanted her students to learn that fact. These, and the five years below them, would be her elite, her special squads. At the end of the current school year she would have eleven new active squads. She smiled.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]She was drawn out of her musing by Celia Graves, Squad Leader of Squad XI. She had stopped talking, and was looking to Elle to finish off the speech. Moving forward quickly, and with grace, Elle addressed her students.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Good luck. I wish you all the best of luck in the Championship. Dismissed.” she said curtly. The students filed out quietly.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]As soon as they were free from the watchful eyes of Director Kilgaran, the sixth year students erupted into noise. They stayed in their squads, content in the intimate foursomes.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]A tall, broad young man by the name of Pharos Ward was talking to a somewhat petite, but curvaceous, girl named Sierra Firefly. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]We're going to compete, of course?” said Sierra, only half-asking a question. Pharos snorted.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Of course we are. If Tara and Hayden agree,” he said, looking back over his shoulder.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]We can win,” said Tara, tying her sleek, brown hair into a tight bun. Next to her, Hayden grinned his agreement. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]We're going to win,” he added, squeezing Tara's shoulder. “How could we not? We've got Sierra.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]I'm not that special,” she said, and shrugged. The chatter from the other students died down as each squad entered its apartment. Pharos opened the door to Apartment 6 and the others followed him inside. Hayden locked the door. The room was dimly lit at first, but when the four adolescents moved further inside, a sphere hanging in the centre of the room started glowing with a soft yellow light.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]The small common area that they shared was decorated sparsely, with three sofas. Several shelves hung on the walls, empty, save a few books. Sierra and Tara disappeared into another room. In copper lettering, “GIRLS” was nailed to the front.[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Pharos stretched and flopped onto one of the sofas languidly. Hayden took off his shoes and put them neatly beside the door, and then sat opposite him. There was a low wooden table between two of the sofas, upon which Hayden's feet rested. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Who do you think our biggest competition is?” said Hayden.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Squad XVI.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Cayla's lot?” said Hayden, frowning. “They're good, but they're not as good as us – Sierra's got that thing going on, you've got your psychic thing going on and Tara's the best hand-to-hander in the school!”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]You're pretty good at what you do, too,” said Pharos, smirking. “We're good,” he said, but silenced Hayden with a finger before he could speak, “but you're forgetting that Viktoryia holds records for her speed and agility. Not to mention Cayla, a tactical genius.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Sierra's faster,” countered Hayden, “and stronger. And not as vulnerable,” he added.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]You know that's not how it works,” said Sierra, appearing in the doorway. Tara stood behind her. “I'm either strong or fast; I don't get both at the same time.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]I am an expert hand-to-hander, though,” said Tara, grinning. “We'll win. Don't worry.” she said. She skipped out from behind Sierra and sat down on the remaining sofa. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Don't get comfortable,” said Sierra, looking pointedly at Pharos, “Dinner's soon.” She turned around and closed the door to the girls' bedroom. Pharos rolled his eyes. He got up, and retreated to his own bedroom, leaving Hayden and Tara alone in the living space. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]How was home?” asked Tara, looking across at Hayden. His head was shaved bald – shorter than the regulation cut for boys – and his olive skin was a sharp contrast to her own, milk-white hue. “You didn't say anything on the journey up,” she added.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]As well as it could be,” he said, and shrugged. “It's not as civilised as Spyr Darr,” he said quietly. “Rebels attacked the King's household on a hunting trip,” he continued. “No one is allowed to leave the cities, patrols go through every village... it's madness. I was only allowed out because of Director Kilgaran's influence over the king.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]It sounds terrible,” said Tara, leaning forward. Hayden shrugged.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]It isn't so bad,” he said. “How was your break?” He scratched at his stubble, and Tara grimaced.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]You had better shave,” she said critically, before adding, “Summer was boring. Mother paraded an endless stream of suitors before me – all of them sons of ladies at court or of prominent merchants.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]And that's a bad thing?” said Hayden, eyebrow raised. He leaned against the sofa, rubbing his jaw with his palm. Tara shot him a look. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]I forgot that you aren't Darrian,” she said. “When a woman gets married, she becomes the head of the household – while I would be allowed to have a job, this would be … difficult. Of course, I might be interested in someone else.” She shrugged. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]You're freer than women in my country,” pointed out Hayden. “Have you never wondered why only boys from Tashraq are here?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Yes,” she said, “and you explained why before. But it's – we're free,” said Tara. “We're in power. It's a Queendom, women inherit property and titles. We have restrictions, though.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Like?” pressed Hayden, leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands on his face. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]I would have to get a respectable job, I would need an heir, a daughter. My life would essentially end,” she said. “I would need to manage the estate, raise a child... and Mother was never happy with me coming here. She was overruled by Parliament. All the ladies were. If I married I would be required to leave the school.”[/FONT]

[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Hayden looked pensive, and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Sierra.[/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]Dinnertime.” she said, skipping across the room. Pharos emerged from the boys' bedroom and crossed the room far more sedately. [/FONT]

“[FONT=DejaVu Sans, sans-serif]We should go,” he said. “It isn't proper to miss dinner on the first day back.” He opened the door and waited for Sierra to prance outside. He grimaced at Hayden, who was already standing. The four members of Squad XVII flooded out of them. Tara locked the door behind them.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Apr 18, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Two[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos Ward sat in the communal living area of Apartment 6, feet resting against the low oak table, reading a book. The fire crackled from its space between the doors leading to the bedrooms, and the sphere that hung from the ceiling glowed a soft, somewhat dim, yellow light. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]His eyes flicked toward the clock which was set above the fireplace. He grinned. He set the book down quietly and tiptoed across the room. Inching the door to his and Hayden's room open slowly and carefully, Pharos crept inside and tore open the curtains. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Due to the apartments' position facing east, light flooded into the room, hitting Hayden square in the face. The sleeping boy groaned and got out of bed. He glared at Pharos and rubbed his bald head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It's a free day,” he said, standing in front of Pharos and rubbing his eyes, “we don't have to be awake until oh-eight-hundred.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We need to start doing research for the Championship,” said Pharos, shrugging. “I'm not as good at classification as you are. Don't look at me like that,” he added, seeing Hayden's defiant look. “Tara and Sierra will be training today, too.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And what will you be doing?” said Hayden from inside the washroom. “Reading a book? Talking a walk through the gardens?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Training,” said Pharos, sitting down on his own bed. The room was small – easily large enough for two single beds with a nightstand each and limited wardrobe space – but it was sufficient for two young men. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh, yeah?” said Hayden, coming out of the washroom wearing a robe. “And how's that? Doing your psi-thing with Claudia Rawlins?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No, actually,” said Pharos tersely, “I'm going to research the challenges in the last two competitions. And the last three seventh year exams.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]They're in the restricted access,” said Hayden, pulling a towel from his drawer. “Coming?” he said, indicating the towel. Pharos shook his head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Showered an hour ago,” he said. “And I can get access. We're sixth years now. I'll just ask Anabel for permission.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Fair enough,” said Hayden. Picking up his regulation toiletries, Hayden left the room. Pharos followed him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Good luck with the research,” said Hayden as he unlocked the door. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Meet me in the library after your shower,” said Pharos. The tall, dark-skinned young man waved him off and exited the apartment. Pharos knocked on the door of the girls' room; he didn't go in because there was an alarm system which, if he walked inside, would alert the sixth year Tutor and he would be punished for infringing on the girls' privacy.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra answered the door, her hair damp and messily arranged. She appeared to be somewhat peeved.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What?” she said, hand on hip. Her long, white dressing gown was drawn tightly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You and Tara should do physical training today,” he said. “Try the obstacle courses, check your reflexes. Maybe you should see how good you are with any extra help,” he added. “Might be an idea.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And what are you going to be doing?” she replied with an arched eyebrow. “Playing mind-games with Claudia Rawlins?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No, no I won't be. I'll be doing important research for the Championship.” he said indignantly. “I don't see why everyone thinks I'll be with Claudia Rawlins,” he added. “We're partners for the psionics exercises, that's all.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra laughed, and rolled her eyes.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That's all anybody meant,” she said. “We'll get on it,” she said, returning to business. “I'll spar with Tara until the cows come home, if you want me to.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'm going to the library,” said Pharos, not bothering to answer her. “Hayden's meeting me there after he showers and has breakfast.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Have you eaten, then?” said Sierra, frowning. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I got up an hour or so ago,” he said, and waved dismissively. “I'm going to the library. Come get me if you need me.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra closed the door on him, and Pharos picked up a satchel from one of the sofas. He left the room whistling a fast, upbeat tune, and made sure to lock the door behind him.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In the deepest cellar, a full two levels underneath the main building, Siaran Firefly laboriously drew intricate circles and pentagrams in a careful, precise order, onto the wooden floor. Instead of the staff uniform, Siaran wore a strange, blood-red dress with a silver hem. Elle stood a level above, watching from a balcony.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Is that the same pattern as last time?” she asked, her voice slightly raised. It echoed off the thick stone walls.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No, this is a new one,” said Siaran, marking out a triangle at the centre of the pattern. “My research indicates that this pattern is the key to a powerful and ancient energy.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Azaratt?” said Elle, “Callo?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Neither,” replied Siaran. “I'm not sure if we're talking about demons. Perhaps something even older, though I can't be sure.” She stood back, chalk in hand, and surveyed her markings. “It seems right. I'll have to measure it later.” She was mumbling slightly, and Elle was only half able to hear her.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What are you going to do with it?” she said, peering at the complex pattern from her vantage point above the wooden platform. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It would be unwise to try anything until I know more about what will happen,” said Siaran, hand on her hip. “That's why I haven't finished the pattern,” she added. “But I don't think I can find new information. I've exhausted my books, I've asked questions of the appropriate contacts... I fear I have as much information as is available.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Then why do you wait?” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The danger is very great,” she said, and shrugged. “My room at home is too small, since I don't quite know what's going to happen, but it's for that reason I am unwilling to do it here.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I trust your judgement,” said Elle. The tall, aloof-looking woman carefully made her way down to the wooden platform where Siaran stood. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It needs blood to work,” said Siaran, tapping her nail against her moon-shaped brooch. “So you can see why I'm loath to try it on a whim.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We have more important issues to contend with,” said Elle, “and I certainly won't put any pressure on you – do this when you feel ready. I confess, I have no idea what the ramifications of this project of yours will be, so perhaps I am downplaying it... still, I think the Inter Squad Championship needs more attention.” Elle pursed her lips. “I know we usually have a standard level three freak for the first challenge, but this year has unprecedented talent... I was thinking a high-end level three to low-end level four?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Do you think?” said Siaran, cocking her head. “No, no, you're right. I know Squad XVII could tackle a low level four alone, maybe even a middle four, depending on its classification, and Squad XIX is a strong contender. Yes,” she said, as if making a decision, “I think that would do nicely. I shall ask Canan to wrangle us some freaks.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Good,” said Elle, nodding. “Are we finished here?” she asked, poised to leave the somewhat dark and claustrophobic chamber. Siaran nodded, and the two of them climbed the two sets of staircases – one wooden, and one hewn from stone – and exited the cellar, appearing inside what used to be a pantry, but was now a heavily fortified entrance to Siaran's cellar below.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The two women exited the long, narrow room – which was more like a corridor than a room – and Siaran locked and dead-bolted the heavy iron door. Elle turned to her, and was smiling.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tea?” she said lightly. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Love to,” replied Siaran, tucking her various pieces of jewellery – silver necklaces, brooches and long, dangling earrings – inside her clothes and into concealed pockets.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In a flurry of kicks and punches, Tara Pierce was knocked to a padded, but firm, mat. She rolled out of the fall and kicked her opponent, Sierra Firefly, in the ankles. The short, buxom girl fell to the ground, but quickly recovered. Tara rolled backwards, and got to her feet quickly, anticipating attack. Sierra remained prone on the mat, but seconds later she was up and moving faster than before. She was curiously manic, her eyes opened wide. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She rushed Tara to the mat and, after a brief struggle, strength flooded through Sierra's limbs. Her movements became less hyperactive and her eyes narrowed. She pinned Tara down with what looked like no effort. The taller, broader girl resisted underneath Sierra's vice-like grip until she relaxed and gave in. Sierra got up and dusted off her hands. She helped Tara up.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That was unfair,” said the red head, frowning. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]How?” replied Sierra, frowning.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You used your strength! And your speed,” said Tara indignantly. “How can I fight against that?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You had three seconds where I was weak and vulnerable,” said Sierra, flopping down onto the mat.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The large gym, which used to be a formal ball oom, was well lit by tall, wide windows that showed the thick forest outside. Aside from Tara and Sierra, there were only three others in the cavernous space; it was relatively quiet.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It's an unfair advantage and you know it,” retorted Tara, dropping down next to Sierra. “I can't make myself stronger or faster in the middle of a fight. I'm not going to be fighting against you."
[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]If you can beat me you'll be able to beat anyone else,” reasoned Sierra. “If you like we can do it again, only this time I'll just be me.” Tara shot her a withering look.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No. I'm fine. We can go see how the boys are doing in the library. I need to see what Pharos dug up on last year's challenge.” said Tara. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I need to talk to Mother, anyway,” said Sierra. “I'll meet you in the library, then,” she said. The two girls got up and headed for the showers off the gym. They parted ways then, with Tara going to the library and Sierra heading for her parents' quarters in the South Wing of the building, which housed the teaching staff as well as those squads on active duty.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra was unsure if her mother would be in her quarters, as during the school year she spent much time doing research or attending to her work, even during free days. The South Wing was fairly easy to access from the second floor gym, and Sierra knew where the servants' passageways were.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She emerged near to her parents' apartment and used her key to gain access. Her father, a fairly short, red-faced man named Lucian, was sat in a plush armchair reading a book. He looked up as she entered and smiled when he saw her.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra!” he said, closing the book and putting it down onto a small, round table next to hair chair. He took his glasses off and put them on top of the book. “Are you looking for your mother?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The short, dark-haired girl nodded and sat opposite him. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Where is she?” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The last thing she told me was that she was going down to her cellar with Director Kilgaran,” he said jovially, “but that was over an hour ago. I don't know where she is now.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh,” said Sierra quietly, “I suppose I should go look for her.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Stay a while,” said her father, getting up from his chair. “I'll brew us a pot of tea, get some teacakes,” he said, smiling at her. She smiled back at him, and got more comfortable in her chair. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'd like that,” she said.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Apr 24, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Three[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The four members of Squad XVII stood outside one of the smaller classrooms on the ground floor of the huge fourteenth century palace. The other four sixth year squads were standing against the panelled walls. There was a low murmur of indistinguishable voices as the students talked to one another.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Lucian Firefly, the short, red-faced father of Sierra, turned the corner fumbling with a set of keys. He looked up at the class and seemed surprised.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh? Is it time already?” he muttered, and hurried forward to open the door. The students flooded inside and took their seats. They were quiet as they waited for Lucian to get his things ready. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]First lesson back,” he said when he had finished, “how exciting!” He stopped talking for a few moments to write something on the board. “This year we will be studying some of the most powerful demons on whom we have lore – Azaratt, Callo, Trogdor and Sariel, for example. Our focus has moved away from generic species and onto more prominent individuals. Questions?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra glared openly at her father, whilst a tall blonde girl with high cheekbones and a pale face raised her hand.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes, Viktoryia?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Why are we learning this? They have been sealed away.” She spoke curiously, with a somewhat harsh accent. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Even though these particular demons are inactive, they still present a very big and very real threat,” explained Lucian. “At any time the seals containing them, barring them from this world, could break, and they would be freed. This is why I am going to teach you about their history and the various methods used to contain them. That make sense?” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The blonde girl nodded, and jotted something down into a book. She glanced up and smiled. Lucian continued.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We will start, I think, with the oldest of the demons on our syllabus, and perhaps the most well-known.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]For some definition of 'well-known,'” whispered Hayden to Pharos, who snickered. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Azaratt first enters our histories in the fifth century BDR. He initially appears as a tribal god to a primitive people in a region which is now called Tashraq, but his role and power become clear in the first century ADR.” Lucian reached up to grab a wooden ball on a string. He pulled it down, and a five foot tall illustration of Azaratt was revealed. “Using knowledge from previous classes, which type of demon is Azaratt?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A doe-eyed girl with a shock of bright red hair put her hand up. Lucian nodded at her, and gestured for her to speak.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The curling ram's horns indicate a lust demon, and we can find further evidence in his erect penis, but those are both in direct opposition to smoke surrounding his body, which indicates a corruption demon.” she rattled off confidently.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Exactly, Claudia. Azaratt is a demon who defies classification. His burning eyes suggest an ability to foresee the future, and at the end of his tail is the animated skull of a jackal, suggesting an affinity with death. His abilities are mixed. He gets the classification of Underlord, a reflection on his status as a commander of demonic forces.” Sierra raised her hand.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Could Azaratt's original classification have been as a lust demon? The lust aspects are the most prominent, and I read that over the course of their lifetimes, demons can change attributes and even take on new aspects.” she said. She shifted in her seat, leaning forward slightly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes, we think that this is what happened with Azaratt. We've seen it happen with Lastatrix. Originally a guardian force with a healing aspect, she is now a succubus who hunts primarily in the tropics.” replied Lucian, beaming. “She is fairly benign,” he added, “so we haven't yet destroyed her.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You mean it's official policy to live and let live? Even when a dangerous freak is out there?” said Viktoryia, interrupting Lucian. “How can you condone that? Succubi are very dangerous.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Lastatrix is a benevolent demon,” protested Sierra, “she causes humans no harm. Killing her would only anger the rest of the succubi and it would be a waste of manpower. Eleven squads can only cover so much of the world. We don't need to waste time on Lastatrix when dangerous freaks are out there hunting.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You deny that succubi are dangerous?” retorted Viktoryia, who then muttered something in her own language. “You are a fool.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Girls, I think this is perhaps inappropriate,” cautioned Lucian as he looked at Sierra's posture: he knew her well enough to know she was poised for attack. He was ignored.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Succubi in general are dangerous,” argued Sierra, “but Lastatrix is the most benevolent demon in the history of the world. She used to be a guardian force. She doesn't cause her victims any pain and she doesn't kill them. She's a waste of time.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No freak is a waste of time,” said Viktoryia angrily, a look of pure hatred flashing in her sheer blue eyes.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That's enough,” said Lucian forcefully. “A little heated discussion is conducive to learning, but this is not appropriate at all. I am docking five points each from Squads XVI and XVII. Any complaints will be deferred to Tutor Goldenrose.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra and Viktoryia stewed for the rest of the lesson, and in an attempt to let the situation go quietly, Lucian set the class a task classifying various demons and putting them into their historical contexts. The rest of the hour-long lesson passed by without incident, and when the class finished, Lucian kept Viktoryia and Sierra behind. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Your conduct today was unworthy of a Blackwood Operative – at the end of the year, one of you could be an active member of our organisation. This is simply unacceptable behaviour. I expect each of you to write me an essay on the importance of demonology in our line of work. Dismissed,” he said in an irritated tone.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The two girls left the room, one tall and blonde, the other short with black hair. Their friends were waiting outside. Viktoryia turned to Sierra, anger in her eyes. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You are wrong! It is our duty to search and kill freaks and demons!” The tall, pale girl's voice was eerily soft, and hid a very real danger.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I know,” said Sierra testily, “but it's better to focus on dangerous foes than it is to expend time and energy on benevolent succubi like Lastatrix!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The girls' respective squads hung around nervously; both teams were anxious to prevent a further loss of Championship points, which was an inevitable outcome if the two girls started fighting.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There is no such thing as a benevolent demons!” spat Viktoryia, balling her fists.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes, there is,” replied Sierra. “Her name is Lastatrix.” Both girls were staring at each other intently. Pharos's eyes glazed over as he tried to pluck Sierra's intentions from her head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Viktoryia.” said a tall, lean girl sharply. A silver pin above her right breast marked her as Cayla Lodge, the squad leader. Viktoryia ignored her.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No. You are wrong. All demons are evil, it does not matter where they came from.” She said it with so much conviction that Sierra was very nearly swayed. “We will race. If I win, you will apologise to me. If you will, I will apologise to you. Then we will never talk of this again.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra looked to Pharos before replying. He nodded to her. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You're on. Can you handle the forest?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Of course.” said Viktoryia. The foreign girl radiated confidence, and Sierra felt somewhat intimidated by her cool, sure stare. She set her jaw. The other members of Squad XVII shared a look; they knew exactly what Sierra's expression meant.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Let's go. Now.” said Sierra. Gareth Conway, a member of Viktoryia's squad, sighed. There was a courtyard with access to the forest fairly near to the demonology classroom, and it was there that the two squads headed. They passed through the courtyard with its carefully tended flowerbeds and headed to the outer wall. A small archway was covered by an iron door, across which was a heavy iron girder to prevent entry by freaks or creatures from the outside.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That's there for a reason,” said Hayden quietly as Sierra and Gareth Conway removed the long, thick metal bar. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We should be fine,” said Cayla. “Only Sierra and Viktoryia are going to stray far from the school.” The eight of them walked through the arch in single file. They walked through the dense, old growth forest that backed onto parts of the school until they reached a small clearing. The doorway back into the school was still visible. The thick forest was fairly dark, with scant light filtering down through the canopy. Sierra leaned against a gnarled, somewhat decaying, tree nonchalantly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Shall we get on with it?” she said, eyeing the taller girl disdainfully. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes, I will be ready soon,” said Viktoryia, pulling her long, thick blonde hair into a ponytail. Lucian Firefly was surprisingly lax when it came to the regulation of hairstyle, and he regularly let it slide during his classes. When she was done, she stared Sierra in the eyes.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'm going to decide on the race,” said Renard Allister, a short, mousy haired boy with an odd birthmark below his left eye. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Fuckin' farsighters,” muttered Tara.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There is a tree three miles from here that has fallen down,” he said, his eyes strangely vacant. “There's a poggle carapace inside. The first one to bring bring it back wins,” he said. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He's not using his farsight because he thinks you'll accuse him of cheating,” whispered Pharos to Tara, sitting down beside her on a particularly large and flat tree stump. The lean girl frowned. Hayden stepped closer to Allister. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Get ready,” he said. The two girls stood next to each other and got ready for the race. “Ready, set, go,” said Hayden, and the two girls were off.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra felt fluidity flow into her limbs, and everything became so much sharper, and it was as if the world were moving far more slowly than before. She could hear the blood pumping through her body, and her breathing deepened. She felt the elation that came with running free and fast and uninhibited. With a brutal, primitive shriek she ran with abandon, forgetting her purpose – until Viktoryia ran past her, the tall girl's limbs moving with a speed that exceeded even Sierra's own.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Something deeply alien inside her caused her to become angry, and she sped up, pushing with all she had to surpass even her fastest speeds. Watching the blonde girl duck and weave through the thick trees without so much as a single hesitation, Sierra felt a sudden surge of anger. The desire to be dominant, to dominate the weak, pitiful girl before her spilled into her mind, spurring her onward.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As Viktoryia slowed down to collect the poggle carapace from inside the tree, Sierra's anger turned to rage and then quickly to fury. She could see Viktoryia speeding up once more, but slowed herself. She slowed to a jog and felt, for the first time since she started the race, the wind whipping around her face. It was cool against her hot, red skin. She reached the clearing a few minutes later, where Squad XVI was congratulating Viktoryia on her win.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She entered the clearing and muttered her apologies to Viktoryia, and then left abruptly, jogging at what would have been a run for most of the others there. Hayden shot Pharos a confused look. The other boy shrugged.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Congratulations,” said Pharos to Viktoryia. “It isn't often that someone beats Sierra in a race.” The tall girl smiled coyly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I am faster than she is,” said Viktoryia, who shrugged. She hugged the poggle carapace close to her chest: a symbol of her victory.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'm surprised that it was actually there,” said Allister rubbing his chin. “The farsight is iffy outside.” He shrugged, and began walking back to the school.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As they got closer to the school it became apparent that something was wrong. Loud crashes and bangs came from behind the wall. They rushed forward to see Sierra knocked to the ground by what appeared to be a huge, crooked bear claw.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh, fuck,” said Tara, looking through the doorway.[/FONT]

Harlequin · May 4, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Four[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The seven students rushed through the narrow archway to find a slavering best towering over Sierra. As Tara pulled the smaller girl to her feet, she retched; the smell of rotting flesh almost overpowered her.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It's a hellhound,” said Hayden, pulling a long, thing knife from his right boot. “Knives won't do much,” he said, glancing at the others, who had by this point withdrawn knives of their own. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And none of us have a gun,” muttered Pharos. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The hellhound was circling them in, its huge form blocking their exit. Its three tails lashed wildly around, flinging an acidic slime over the courtyard. It appeared confused by the sudden presence of seven more small, unpredictable humans.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]'Toryia, get help,” said Cayla, springing into action. Within seconds the tall blonde girl had run off for help and the other members of her squad circled the creature. A ring of satchels surrounded the creature haphazardly; nobody cared that their things were strewn around the courtyard. The misshapen creature was alternating between an awkward, two-legged gait and the more graceful movements of a quadruped as it tried to keep all of them in its field of vision.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tara, Hayden, go,” said Pharos, taking advantage of the creature's bipedal state and ducking underneath the creature's exposed belly with his knife. The sharp implement barely pierced its hide and served only to enrage it further – to disastrous effect.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]With the beast's head turned, Sierra was free to leap onto its back. Cayla signalled to the other members of her team. Gareth Conway's huge form rammed into the hellhound just as Tara delivered a jump kick to its other side. From his place underneath the hound, Pharos heard its ribs cracking and drove his knife through the weak points. The creature squealed and threw Sierra from its back. She rolled out of the fall and nodded to Cayla.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos, move,” Cayla yelled, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a small incendiary device. Before he could comply, the hellhound knocked him out from underneath. He bowled Tara over and the two of them ended up tangled on the floor.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]On top of the beast, Sierra closed her eyes tightly and clung onto its thick fur. Cayla launched the smokebomb. Smoke billowed out of the small device as thin, sharp pieces of metal went everywhere – including the hellhound's thick hide. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Still clinging to its back, Sierra took advantage of the creature's confusion and plunged her knife deep into its neck. The knife broke off inside the thick, plated neck and she let go.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Hayden! Get the tails!” she shouted, rolling out of the fall. Reacting instantly to her command, Hayden sprung forward and grasped the flailing creature's tails and put his knife to them. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Before he cut them off, the hellhound secreted a foul-smelling slime that spread all over Hayden's arms. Allister rushed forward and grabbed him before he fell and passed him to Gareth Conway. As he was placed carefully on the ground, he vomited over himself. About three feet away, the hellhound fell to the floor with a crash, landing on top of Pharos and Tara, its severed tails lashing wildly several feet away.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Silence fell over the courtyard, broken periodically by the panting of the students. Moments later, Viktoryia reappeared with Squads II and XI following her, Elle Kilgaran at their head. They were armed to to teeth, carrying the newest and most efficient Vanderklass S-1 pistols. They appeared somewhat disappointed when they spotted the hellhound's corpse.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Leavesden, Hughes, take Cross to the infirmary. The rest of you see to the clean-up,” said Elle sternly and quickly. She turned her attention to the exhausted students.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Get yourselves to the infirmary to get rid of the filth,” she said, “and then report to me for debriefing.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The tall, stony-faced woman turned on her heel and walked briskly from the scene. The two active squads went about their duties, with the short, squat form of Camilla Leavesden and the broad-shouldered Anselm Hughes carrying Hayden's unconscious, prone body to the infirmary.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The battered and tired adolescents collected themselves from the ground and followed Leavesden and Hughes toward the infirmary. Tara was nursing her left arm and Pharos was limping. Squad XVI fared little better, with Gareth Conway sporting what appeared to be a dislocated shoulder and Cayla Lodge bits of metal stuck in her torso. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The infirmary was on the grand palace's ground floor and occupied a space once used as a grand reception room. Several markers of its past remained – the cornicing around the base of the never-used and rather neglected chandeliers along with tall, narrow windows. The ceiling was painted over by a mural popular during the fifteen hundreds, though the walls had been painted over in a crisp white emulsion. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A wide space in the middle served as the walkway, with beds and partitions occupying the sides of the room. Save Hayden, who was promptly carted off to a bed, all eight of the students were instantly pushed into separate decontamination chambers.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]More of a small room than a 'chamber,' they consisted of three shower heads pointing from different directions, with one from above and two from the side. They were washed off with a strong soap and given scrubs to wear; their uniforms would be burned, as well as their satchels and the contents inside. New ones would be provided.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A stocky, hard-faced nurse corralled them into a small partition room for their own treatment while they waited for Hayden's treatment to be over. As the nurse saw each of their injuries, Sierra sat apart from the others, her face an expression of melancholy. Tara leaned in closer to Pharos.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Something's wrong,” she murmured. Pharos nodded slightly and almost imperceptibly. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I think I know what's wrong, he answered, projecting his thoughts directly into Tara's head. It's difficult because I'm unable to hear her thoughts. We'll talk later.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tara nodded and dropped it. They sat in an awkward silence as they waited for one of the other nurses to come and tell them Hayden was ready for release. He was released nearly a half hour later, and the two squads made their way to Director Kilgaran's office in two close but distinct groups. Hayden's arms had been bandaged and Tara was fretting over him in much the same manner that Viktoryia was hovering around Cayla.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]They were admitted to the somewhat claustrophobic office of the school's Director in two groups, with Squad XVI entering first. Director Kilgaran kept them inside for what seemed like a very long time, during which Sierra paced almost constantly. Worse still, her voice was so low and calm that nothing could be heard from outside, and Pharos had never been able to hear her thoughts, so they were in the dark as to her reaction to their antics.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The reappearance of Squad XVI did nothing to mollify Squad XVII as every single squad member had a stoic, impossible to read look on his or her face. Squad XVII was called in just moments after the other team had left.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]They entered the office and stood in a perfect line before the carefully manicured Elle Kilgaran. She sat before them with an air of complete authority, her eyes hard and unyielding. Her face was set and impassive as she looked at them.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]After hearing Squad XVI's interpretation of events, I would like to hear your own. Proceed, Ward,” she said, looking the tall boy directly in the eyes. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos shifted his feet slightly before talking, but remained with his hands clasped behind his back and in a fully upright stance.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As a result of the confrontation between Cadet Hansel and Cadet Firefly during the demonology lesson, it was decided that a non-violent way of settling the matter would be for the two girls to race. Cadet Hansel won. After the race, Cadet Firefly left before her squad. We followed and saw that she was the subject of an attack by a hellhound. Along with Squad XVI, we intervened and dispatched the freak,” said the tall boy quietly. “Ma'am,” he added.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Director Kilgaran considered this for a moment. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The race track within school grounds would have been a suitable test, would it not?” questioned Kilgaran, peering intently at Sierra.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It was felt that the forest would be a better test of whose reflexes were better, Ma'am,” said Sierra. “It was not our intention for a situation such as this to arise.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]But it did,” murmured Kilgaran, slightly too quiet for them to hear. “A suitable punishment for your actions today will be giving Squad XVII the responsibility of caring for our firearms. You will replace Cadet Bearwood's squad.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Kilgaran got up from her seat and began pacing around them.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It would be remiss of me to downplay your accomplishment this day,” she mused, passing in front of the students. “Hellhounds are level five freaks, although this particular specimen was old and diseased. Both yourselves and Squad XVI escaped with minimal injury; Cadet Cross will heal quickly. Such a display of skill must not go unrewarded. As such, your Championship Score will be reset to zero – I am told that it is currently negative five.” She turned to look at the assembled cadets. Her face was a picture of sincerity. “That I am pleased with your achievement by no means lessens the severity of your transgression, however. You will all remain on probation until further notice. You are dismissed.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As the four tired and battleworn students left the room, Kilgaran called Sierra back. She closed the door behind Hayden and stood before Director Kilgaran's desk, behind which the tall, confident woman was sat.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes, Director?” said Sierra cautiously. The small girl was on the defensive, with her body primed for escape.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Permission to speak freely,” added Elle, relaxing. “From the testimony of Lodge I felt that there was more to the incident than a lost race.” Sierra nodded.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes. It is a matter with which my mother is more comfortable than I,” said Sierra quietly. “She can explain it better.” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You may leave,” said Elle, rubbing her temple. The young woman curtsied and left the room, and Elle saw in Sierra the vision of her mother. It was clear that Sierra was Siaran Firefly's daughter, she thought. There was no question.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]With a sigh, she looked down at her desk. Still open was a letter, penned in a small, curving script, from her cousin, the queen of Spyr Darr. Elle was loathe to comply to her demands, but her organisation existed solely because of her good will. Without her approval the palace would be appropriated by Parliament and all her work would go to nothing.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She pushed the letter to one side, knowing that Siaran would have a better idea than she could come up with. Thinking of her friend and deputy Director, Elle's eyes flicked toward an antique timepiece sitting on the wall opposite her. Within moments Siaran was scheduled for a meeting, which would give them ample time to discuss events.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Not longer after, there was a sharp rap on her door and Siaran Firefly, the buxom deputy Director, walked into her office. Her somewhat fly-away bun and her odd robes indicated that she had been underneath the school working on her patterns. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Apologies for my lateness,” said Siaran, slipping into the chair opposite the desk. She took a few moments to tidy her hair as Elle smiled indulgently.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Read this,” said Elle, pushing the letter across the desk. The busty blonde woman read it silently, and frowned upon finishing.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Dear Luisa wants five squads,” said Siaran incredulously. “Five. We only have eleven, and one of them is new! This is an outrage.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I thought you would see it that way. It puts us in a rather precarious position, as I'm sure you know.” replied Elle, leaning forward to take the letter back. “I have a familial obligation as well as the one you and I share with Her Majesty.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Give her two squads,” said Siaran quietly, playing with one of her long necklaces. “Say it's all we can spare, and then send Squads I, II and V out on a mission. That leaves us with six active squads here. Squads IV and XI are to be sent overseas to classify whether the aberrants there are freaks or demonic in nature anyway. Three active squads would allow us to deal with any situation that may arise. We can not be denied this – it is our purpose.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes, yes,” said Elle, “That may very well work. Squads I, II and V will be given access to Tashraq for their mission. A pack of therianthropes should keep them occupied and prove a good test of their abilities.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh? Is it a pack? I was under the impression it was a lone pair.” replied Siaran, her curiosity piqued.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes,” said Elle grimly. “Level six alpha with two level five bitches. Our sources suggest a some level two pups.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Werewolves?” guessed Siaran. Elle shrugged. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Does it matter?” she replied, to which Siaran shook her head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No, no, of course not. Still, it would be nice to get a living specimen...” She coughed. “But yes. That is what we must do. We would be paid for our services, yes?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle frowned and shrugged. As Siaran had read for herself, the letter stated nothing about payment.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We could specify it in the terms of the agreement,” said Siaran. “Send three squads instead of two and request a Captain's pay for each squad member. We struggle to find funds as it is. Perhaps you could suggest that we would be unable to continue providing our services without funding.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'm wary of our squads becoming akin to mercenaries,” admitted Elle. “Already we have rendered services to governments that have nothing to do with our mission statement.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A necessary evil,” said Siaran, dismissing her concerns. “We have done a lot of good since our first five squads graduated. This will be our second year with active squads,” she said, “and we have eleven now, not five.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Nine years and only eleven squads,” said Elle, and then she sighed. “It seems a waste of time.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Never a waste,” said Siaran. “We protect people from the deepest, darkest horrors our world can offer. It takes six years to train an exceptional squad adequately and seven for the others. The Championship weeds out the exceptional from the good. This is why it exists. I will handle this,” said Siaran.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Your court,” said Elle, handing over the problem to her friend. “I wanted to ask about Sierra. Is she still having those ...” she trailed off, searching for the right word.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Episodes?” asked Siaran. “No, not often. Why do you ask?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There was an incident today,” said Elle, and as soon as the words left her mouth Siaran's face fell, and then tightened anxiously. “No, no, you misunderstand! Nothing happened, everything is fine. I just … It isn't anything,” she said. “Forget I said anything.” Siaran nodded.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The two women sat in Elle's office, no longer talking about official business but chatting. They remained there until each woman had to excuse herself due to teaching commitments.[/FONT]

Harlequin · May 23, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Five[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Even though the day's classes were still taking place, Squad XVII had retired to their rooms. It was somewhat fortuitous that she had neglected to tell them whether or not to return to their afternoon lessons, so they had decided to take the rest of the day off, and Squad XVI had done the same.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]So are you going to tell us what happened?” said Hayden, gingerly lounging on one of the sofas. His arms were wrapped in stark, white bandages and he held them awkwardly in front of his body. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra shrugged, and wriggled in her seat. Her eyes flicked down toward her torso.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Hayden,” said Pharos quietly, cautioning the dark-skinned boy. Sierra shook her head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No, it's fine. I … You know how my powers work,” she said, and shrugged. “They're different to yours and everyone else's,” she said, looking at Pharos. “I have had them for longer than I can remember, so I'm fairly good at controlling them. I nearly lost control today. That's what made me upset.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That, and the rest,” said Pharos, peering at her intently. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes, Pharos, I know what you want me to say.” said Sierra irritatedly. “I'm dangerous when I lose control. Moreso than Bearwood, much worse than Mathers and Oake. I just had to … get away.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We're all dangerous,” said Tara, shrugging. “It's the point.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'm worse,” said Sierra. “If I had caught up to Viktoryia today I would have killed her.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tara seemed unconcerned. She shrugged and drew her feet up under her legs. From where she sat across from Sierra, she looked the other girl up and down. Next to her, Pharos moved slightly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You didn't,” said Hayden. “Instead we killed a freak. How's that for a turnaround?” He grinned.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It's hard to learn control,” said Pharos, frowning. “Back when my psionics first developed I couldn't help hearing things. It was horrible.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It isn't the same,” said Sierra softly. “When I lose control, people can die. When you lose control you get headaches.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Where do they come from?” said Hayden softly, breaking the silence. Sierra chewed her bottom lip, considering her answer.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Have I never said?” she replied, looking past Hayden and at the wood panelled wall behind him. Hayden just stared at her. The short girl sighed.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You should tell us. Five years, Sierra.” said Tara, leaning forward. “We've dealt with this before – three times you nearly 'lost control' and kept us from knowing why. We can help.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]If she isn't comfortable telling us we shan't make her,” said Pharos. He sat back on the sofa lazily, gazing out at Sierra from half-closed eyelids.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No. We have no secrets,” said Sierra resignedly. “I shouldn't keep this from you. It was a matter of pride, really,” she said, and shrugged. “I should be over it, but … I get it from my mother, I suppose.” She laughed. “My abilities are unnatural.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Like his aren't,” said Tara, snorting and pointing at Pharos with her elbow.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]They are,” insisted Sierra, “but mine aren't. His were a natural development, a response to the Blackwood, but mine were the result of Mother's experiments.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You can't be serious,” said Pharos, sitting up. “She would do that to you?” Sierra nodded in response.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes. It isn't so bad. I'm fine now, and the benefits really did outweigh the risks.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What did she do?” said Tara, pressing down on her calf, leaning closer to Sierra. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Kill her own daughter,” said Pharos, brows narrowed in anger. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She did not kill me. I did not die,” she said indignantly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That's what I saw in her head,” said Pharos, shrugging. “Before she started blocking everyone out.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Then you're wrong,” said Sierra quietly. She got up and retreated into the girls' bedroom, leaving the three others in total silence. When she had gone, Tara got up from her seat and stood over Pharos menacingly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You do not accuse someone's mother of murder, especially not infanticide.” she said, glaring at him. The tall boy sat up.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It wasn't an accusation,” he said, calmly. “It was what I heard in her mind.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That's a big thing to say,” said Hayden, “and your powers were only just developing... I don't know how it works, but isn't there a sort of learning curve?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I know what I heard,” said Pharos. He shrugged, and got up, pushing Tara out of the way gently. She made a strangled noise and sat down next to Hayden, pushing him out of the way. Pharos shut the door loudly behind him.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Twelve uniformed, expressionless youths stood before Elle Kilgaran's desk silently. Elle was pacing about the large, spacious room. She held a crumpled letter in her left hand. After a few moments, she stopped pacing and stood in front of her squads.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You may sit,” she said, directing them to a table in the corner of the room. Quickly, they sat around the table and Elle sat at its head. “I have a special mission for you,” she said. She was careful not to let her disapproval show on her face; her squads were loyal to her, and if it looked as if she were not in full support of the mission it was likely they would fail to perform. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Her Highness, Queen Luisa of Spyr Darr and the Darrian Empire, has requested a total of five squads that shall act as an elite team of fighters. I have decided to send her three. Your mission will be explained in depth by the commanders, but as I understand it there is a conflict between the colony of New Lendis and the Free Crann State. It is hoped that the expertise and unique skills of the Blackwood Squads will turn the tide of the war; we are losing, and it is costing Her Highness a great deal of money.” Elle paused. “Money which has been taken from elsewhere,” she added, hinting that money had been taken from the school. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She pushed three files toward the squad leader of each squad, and allowed the squad leaders time to read them. When they had finished, she began to speak again.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Mistress Zess will be in charge for the duration of the mission. In my absence she is your Director. As the nature of paranormal skills is as yet unknown, it would be wise to refrain from speaking about or using your abilities in front of anyone else unless you are forced to,” said Elle, looking pointedly at a tall, wide-shouldered boy and a slim brunette – Darien Mathers and Violet Oake, respectively. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I will ensure that anyone who has paranormal skills is on their best behaviour, Director,” said Zess, also looking at Mathers and Oake. Oake rolled her eyes.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Good,” said Elle. “It is unknown how long you will be required. The journey to New Lendis will take a few weeks, and then there is the fighting. You will collect the fee after your mission is complete. Details are included in the letter I have just given Mistress Zess. Do not open it. My seal is required as proof of authenticity. You will leave in four hours, so as to make the next ship at Salisport. Questions?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Vincent Chambers, Squad II's leader, cleared his throat and began speaking.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Are we to be mercenaries only, or are we to investigate any sightings of freaks or aberrants, Director?” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle frowned. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You are to follow the orders of your commanding officer,” she said carefully, “but were a situation to arise where you could deal with a suspected problem, the choice to take the opportunity is yours.” Chambers nodded, and nobody else spoke up. Elle stood and dismissed them, watching them go. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As they left, she smiled. Squads I through V were her very first students, and she had taken a very active role in training them. Seeing them, nine years later, with professional and disciplined attitudes, she could smile and feel as if she had really accomplished something. Glancing at the clock on her wall, Elle's smile faded. With a sigh, she left her office and quickly made her way down the the ground floor using the servants' passageways. She exited the narrow space fairly near to the classrooms and the rooms with the secure cellar access. She hurried down the stone steps down to the first level of the cellars, and then down more to get to Siaran Firefly's summoning rooms. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Three storeys underneath the main palace building, the only word Elle could find to describe Siaran's rooms was “dungeons”, and she shuddered to think of why they were built in the first place, so far below the rest of the building. She passed Siaran's huge, unfinished pattern and ducked into a damp, musty room with a low ceiling. Standing at the centre of the room, amidst a flock of dead chickens, was Siaran Firefly. She was covered in blood and feathers, and stood with her arms raised high to the ceiling. A complex pattern was painted onto the floor in chicken's blood. Elle stood in the doorway quietly, watching Siaran at work.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As Siaran chanted something in a guttural language, the temperature of the room dropped and an eerily whistling pierced the air. Within moments, a tiny, brightly shining entity appeared in front of Siaran, who stopped chanting and dropped her arms. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Hello,” she said to the small, buzzing thing, blood still dripping from Siaran's callipygian form.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Humans are silly,” said the creature in a high-pitched, whiny voice. It buzzed around the small room, looking at each chicken in turn. “What do you want?” it said, and then it turned to feast on the chicken's flesh.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I need to know what a pattern does,” said Siaran, picking up a chicken and waving it in front of the creature. The creature was distracted from eating, and followed Siaran into the other room. Before she could pass, Elle moved out of the way; blood was hard to get out of her uniform.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]How do I make this work, and what does it do?” she asked, her voice strong and domineering.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh, that,” said the creature absently, floating closer to Siaran's chicken. She moved it out of the way. It whined. “You just have to … with the blood … virgins,” it added, buzzing around the chicken. “I want it,” said the creature, diving into the chicken. Siaran dropped it, disgusted.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What does it do?” she asked again, kneeling down to look at the creature devouring the chicken's flesh.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Don't know,” said the creature. “Can't tell. From somewhere else.” Siaran made a strangled noise. Time was running out, and when the creature had sated itself on the bodies of the chickens it would leave again.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Do you know anything that would know?” asked Siaran, still kneeling. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No,” it said, “S'different. Can't tell. Don't like it.” It stopped talking to gorge on the chicken. “Going now,” it added, and vanished, taking the chickens with it. Siaran sighed, and stood back up. She turned to Elle, who appeared confused.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What did I just witness?” she said, looking Siaran up and down. She had painted various figures over her body in chicken's blood, and much of it had run, covering her in the sticky substance. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A summoning,” replied the bloody woman. “I had wanted to explain it to you before I began, but the time came and I needed to seize it.” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What was that thing?” asked Elle, sitting down on a low protrusion of stone that served as a bench.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I don't know,” said Siaran. “Summoning is one of the lost arts; there is barely enough information on how to summon, let alone on what you summon. Generally I receive useful information, but this time … well, it was as you could see. The creature was unhelpful.” She paused for a moment and chewed her lip. “And it took all the chickens, too. I was hoping to use them for another summoning,” she added. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran walked steadily over to a bucket in the corner of the room and began washing the blood and feathers from her body.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Is that strictly … necessary?” asked Elle, mouth curled into an expression of disgust. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes,” said Siaran flatly. “There is no other way to attract that particular creature, and none of the others I am able to summon have been able to help thus far. Of course, my skills are only rudimentary at best...”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I hardly think rudimentary describes your skills, Siaran,” said Elle, smiling. In the particular circles the two women had been forced to move in, her name was synonymous with 'talent.' “Perhaps functional would be a better term – you know how to do what is needed. And I do hope you informed the staff that you took several of their chickens. You know what happened last time!”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I informed them this time, yes,” said Siaran, drying herself with a fluffy, white towel.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Did you learn anything important from that … exchange?” asked Elle, becoming businesslike and direct.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes,” said Siaran, “though it is more the information that I didn't get which was the key. None of the otherworld's creatures know anything about the pattern... this suggests it is from a different place, or perhaps is older than any of them... As I have said, my skill is basic, so I am unable to determine its true purpose from the pattern, but it is interesting.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It requires further research, you mean?” said Elle, smiling wryly. Siaran smiled back at her, and nodded.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes. It might have to wait until this summer, unless I can slip away at the end of term,” replied the taller, bustier woman. While the two women talked, Siaran pulled on her uniform.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Do you ever plan on teaching summoning?” said Elle carefully, turning her head toward her friend as they climbed the staircases up to the ground level of the school.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes,” said Siaran, “though as yet there has been no student with sufficient innate talent.” She paused. “Save Sierra, but for … reasons we both know she is unable to summon.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Of course,” said Elle, frowning. “Are there no others? I have spotted Talent in many of the students... under-developed and unripe, but many of them will grow into Talented individuals.” She grinned. “Our theory on the Blackwood and where it sits is correct,” she added.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Would you like to come for tea and scones in the Ladies' Garden?” said Siaran delicately, when the two of them had emerged from the cellars. “Lucian should be here shortly,” she added. “Selene is joining us with Anabel and Canan.” Elle smiled, softening her usually severe face.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That sounds delightful,” she replied, and the two women walked, arm in arm, toward the doors that led outside.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Jul 18, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Six[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Inside a petite, walled garden with gates leading outward through the four walls, five of the school's staff sat under a large, faded-pink parasol. A small table stood in the middle of them, and sun streamed down from the sky above. Six men and women sat around the table. Three of them – the Fireflys and Elle Kilgaran – were dressed in the staff uniform. The others – Selene Goldenrose, Canan Tress and Anabel Trump – were dressed in clothing far more appropriate for an afternoon tea party.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I should like it if you were to pass me a scone, Selene,” said Canan Trass, brushing a curly, sandy-gold lock of hair from his eye. Across from him, Selene smiled, showing a set of small, perfectly formed white teeth. With a petite hand, she lifted the delicate china plate before her and handed it to Canan, who inclined his head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A pleasure, Canan,” replied the petite woman, smiling coyly at him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is a wonder,” Canan said, “that we have not been under constant attack these past few weeks. Deviant activity within the forest has increased enormously.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I had noticed,” said Elle drily, “what with Squad XVI and XVII's excursion this morning.” The tall blonde woman rolled her eyes.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There is something more to it than that,” interrupted Selene. “The records are incomplete, so we shan't be taking much in the way of a conclusion from it, but during the palace's last occupation only twice did an incident such as the one this morning occur. Perhaps due to safety measures undertaken at the time, although I can not be sure.” The small woman was chewing her bottom lip as she gazed at something beyond Canan's shoulder.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Really?” said Lucian, sitting a bit more upright in his seat. “I was unaware that records had been kept.” Upon hearing his declaration, Siaran adopted a long-suffering look.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You have read some of them numerous times, my love,” she said, sighing. “Most notable amongst which is the document detailing the construction of the dungeons beneath the cellars.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Nonsense,” said Lucian. “I have done no such thing! I have read accounts of experiments done by Lady Ashcroft in the fifteenth century, but nothing of the daily running of the palace has come my way.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pedantry!” declared Siaran, turning her nose up at him. “I am sure that Anabel agrees.” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I regret to say that I find myself in agreement with your dear wife,” said the svelte young woman, her red-gold hair draped about her neck in tight ringlets. “It is, indeed, pedantry.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Regardless of my supposed pedantry,” said Lucian, “I remain unconvinced that this is such a rare occurrence. Monstrosities and freaks of all kinds are more active in the summer – it is something that has been noted before.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I would be inclined to agree,” remarked Elle, “but Selene's contacts have said otherwise.” Lucian turned his gaze back to Selene, who nodded.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The entire deviant underground is buzzing,” she said. “Vampires and therianthropes of all kinds are agitated. My human contacts report the same things, and our last meeting was some time ago, as you well know.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The forest is almost ablaze with activity, Lucian,” said Canan, fiddling with a pipe on the table. “More active than I have ever seen it, or any other place like it.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Do you remember that time in Mumkatt?” said Anabel, smirking at him. “I had to rescue him from an entire pack of hellhounds, and that was after he had been captured by natives. Men, eh?” she said, looking to the other women for confirmation.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I still think this is nothing to worry about. After all, an increase of activity during the summer months is why we have seasonal rules.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I do try to stand by you, Lucian, but on this occasion, I am afraid you might be wrong,” said Siaran. “The increase in activity is something we need to monitor. If Canan thinks it is indicative of something serious, I tend toward listening to him.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I have to agree,” said Elle. “You make a good point, Lucian, but it is better to be cautious than dead. In any case, our research into deviant behaviour has hit a wall, and investigating this might give us a base for further research.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There is much we do not yet know,” agreed Selene, delicately sipping from a china cup. “Where is this tea from?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Somewhere in the east,” said Elle uninterestedly. The six men and women continued talking, and at some later point a servant produced several bottles of wine. They drank wine and chatted amongst themselves until most of them had to leave. As the sun began to set, Elle was left alone in the walled garden. She sat there until long after dark, and only left because her lady in waiting came to collect her. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Anabel Trump sat in a rather comfortable chair, legs resting on her oak desk. She looked across the desk at Pharos Ward, who was playing with a tribal fertility statue she had picked up during her travels. The other members of his squad were similarly occupied.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]So,” she said, “tell me again your plans for the competition.” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We don't know what the first mission is,” said Pharos. “Still, we think we are prepared.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I am only able to give guidance,” said Anabel, “but I am left strangely unable to do that when you do not give me anything to guide!”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tell us more,” said Sierra flatly, putting down an obsidian orb. “The first test is in two weeks, and we have already been here for two. Lodge's squad have inside information.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It's true,” said Pharos. “I took it from her head. Instructor Baker gave it to them.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]So then take the information from her head. You know me: the ends justify the means.” said Anabel, shrugging. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]So then tell us,” said Tara, sighing. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is an obstacle course,” said Anabel, swinging her legs down underneath the desk, and leaning forward, “although it is unlike any you have yet experienced. There has been talk of a low-level four aberrant being used, due to your antics at the very start of the year. Possibly more than one.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Do you know which it—they—are?” said Hayden, closing the book he had been flicking through. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes,” said Anabel, “and don't you dare try to pry it from my head, Pharos Ward. You can't, anyway. I'm better than you are.” She snorted. “How's your magic?” she said to Hayden.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I am untrained in the spectral arts,” he said, and shrugged. “My focus is on the science, not the arcane.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It would be best to remedy that,” said Anabel, frowning. “Perhaps not the practical use of magic; you are obviously unable to do that. Knowledge of the theory behind it would be most useful.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What am I supposed to do? There are no books on summoning and that really is the only magical art that works.” replied Hayden, shrugging. “Instructor Firefly is the only summoner in Spyr Darr, and she refuses to teach anyone without practical ability.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That is a problem,” admitted Anabel, “and it is one to which I have no solution. My professional advice is for you to learn about the arcane side of our calling. At least visit the research squads to find out about their work.” Anabel stood up from her desk and crossed the room. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Here she goes,” whispered Hayden to Pharos, and smirked. Squad XVII had had two meetings with their squad tutor already, and in both of them Anabel had, at one point, broke off into a long, loud speech on a variety of topics.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Take notes, ladies and gentlemen, because I shan't be saying this again! I am going to tell you exactly how you need to play this first test of your skills. Got that?” said the svelte red-head. “You. Pharos. Your primary objective should always be keeping one step ahead of the other squads. The course will be undertaken at the same time as the other squads – use your psionics. Scope them out, see where they are. We want to see how you use your team effectively. This is as much about winning as it is about effective management of your resources.” She turned toward Pharos and raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you get that? Your role is of team leader and scout. I haven't the foggiest how good you are at using your powers and running through an obstacle course at the same time, but you had bloody well better work on that. Bear in mind that Renard Allister is a farsighter, so will have much the same advantage as you do. Find some way to neutralise that advantage. That's your homework,” she said sharply to Pharos.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos shrugged, and Anabel whirled around to Sierra, who was playing with a long strand of hair idly. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You aren't going to like this, Sierra, but you know me well enough by now to know that I don't really care. You are a battering ram. Cannon fodder, if you like. You can be strong or fast when needed but more importantly it is very hard to hurt you. You can tackle the bigger, stronger aberrants with less concern for your safety, giving you a large advantage over squads such as XVI. You have a unique place in your year group. Be happy,” said Anabel off-hand. Sierra stared at her blankly. Anabel continued, ignoring the girl's silence. “Of course, by working in tandem with Tara you can get the most done. Tara will act as support for you. Your job is to subdue the specimens and Tara shall dispose of them. Of course,” said Anabel, thinking aloud more than instructing her students, “that will depend on the weapons you are given – if any. Ask me about that in a few days,” she said, chewing her bottom lip. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Anabel reached toward her bookcase, which was surprisingly full, given the specialist nature of the tomes required, and pulled a tall, thick book from the middle shelf. She glanced at the title, and then nodded to herself.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And this, Hayden Cross, is for you. You won't find it in the library and I dare say you won't find it in Headmistress Firefly's private library. This book,” she said, turning it over in her hands, stroking the cover lovingly, “contains everything you need to destroy or subdue the more common types of monstrosities in the world. Under each entry there are strategies for defeat that have been used in the past. I compiled most of the data during my travels and I wrote it myself,” said Anabel, handing over the book to Hayden. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That would be why your mother doesn't have it,” muttered Tara to Sierra, rolling her eyes. Sierra smiled. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There are copies,” said Anabel. “I might not be the sharpest knife on the staff but I know how to keep things safe. Now, I believe I have given you all something to think about.” The elegant red-head smoothed her uniform and strode back to her desk. She sat down, and then dismissed the four adolescents with a wave of her hand.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She watched them leave thoughtfully, and when they had gone she picked up a small, leather-bound red book from her desk, along with a stack of papers and an intricately carved wooden spoon, and left her office.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Sep 5, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Seven[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The fortnight leading up to the first Mission of the year had been tense. Sierra Firefly had barely been able to contain her temper, and that had been more than enough for Elle to deal with without Claudia Rawlins attacking Pharos Ward psionically at every opportunity.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Despite the difficulties leading up to the Mission, Elle was confident that all would go well. Each Squad had spent all of their free time training and had even managed to divert their lessons into further instruction. As to which of the five sixth year squads would win she felt unable to say; each was a strong contender.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle was brought out of her musing by Siaran, with whom she had been speaking. The hard-faced blonde woman blinked.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Could you repeat that?” said Elle, sighing. “I was … somewhere else.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We should hurry,” said the voluptuous woman, “and brief the squad leaders. The students will be here soon, and it is dangerous to make them wait too long in the forest.” Elle nodded. The first Mission was always held in the safest part of the forest, but in no sense of the word were the students truly 'safe'. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I agree,” replied Elle, setting off down the dirt path. She wrinkled her nose as the dirt on her shoes and strode away from Siaran, who almost had to jog to catch up. The two women emerged from the thick woods into a large clearing, in the middle of which was long obstacle course. The course extended into the forest. Large wooden stands had been erected alongside and behind of the course. Six tents were a short distance away from the stands, and the two women walked silently to the largest. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Squads I and II stood to attention as soon as Elle entered the tent. She nodded to them, and they relaxed.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Bring me the squad leaders of the competing squads,” barked Elle, and five of the Operatives moved to do as she had asked. She sat on a spartan chair behind a desk, and Siaran checked a diagram on a make-shift table at the centre of the tent.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Alys Zess, a pretty young blonde woman with cropped blonde hair, moved forward to Elle's desk. Elle inclined her head slightly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I put squads III to VI on patrol around the course, Director Kilgaran. Security for the Mission is assured. No monstrosities should get into the grounds.” she said, curtsying to the stone-faced woman.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Good. Send Squad VII out on patrol and tell Squad II that they should monitor the obstacle course. You will, of course, stay with myself and Headmistress Firefly at all times.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ma'am.” said Alys, nodding. She fell back into place with the remainder of Squad II. When the rest of the squad arrived moments later, the competitors in tow, she sent them off immediately to do Elle's bidding.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Cayla Lodge strode into the tent, her long, brown hair tied into a severe bun. She was followed closely by the tall, broad form of Pharos Ward. Dakin Bearwood, the short, squat leader of Squad XVIII. Susannah Anders, a tall, slim redhead followed behind with Mima Springwood, a plump young woman with black hair. They fell into a line before Elle's desk. The tall, thin woman rose and addressed them, her face cold and hard, and her hair drawn into a tight bun.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The first Mission of the Inter-Squad Championship will commence shortly. As you have by no doubt already guessed, it consists of an obstacle course – a gauntlet, if you will. It is, in fact, Varsa's Gauntlet. Within, you shall encounter traps, puzzles and monstrosities. The first squad to emerge will be awarded one hundred points, and the next seventy five. The third and fourth fifty and twenty five respectively, and the fifth no points at all.” Elle finished talking and moved out from behind her desk.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]This is not a game. This is not practise. This is real and you can die. Squad II will be watching, but it must be stressed that they will not intervene unless it is absolutely necessary. You will be given a selection of weapons from which to choose; the choices you make could end your lives if you do not pay them the attention they are due. I do not wish you luck. May the best squad emerge victorious.” said Elle, and she summarily dismissed the assembled young men and women.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]On the way out of the tent, Cayla Lodge whispered to Pharos Firefly, shoving him lightly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The best team will win,” she said, before disappearing into her tent. Pharos grimaced, and fought off another attack from Claudia Rawlins. Tara caught his expression and swore.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Is that bitch Rawlins still attacking you? I'll rip her face off...” she said, snarling. “Now what'd the Director say?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We get to choose our weapons. It's an obstacle course, like Trump said. Varsa's Gauntlet, apparently.” said Pharos, shrugging. “So go on. Choose weapons.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Get me some gauntlets and a knife,” said Sierra, sitting on a badly-stuffed armchair with a murderous look across her face. Hayden nodded to her, and dove into a chest full of weapons. He pulled out an assortment of weapons and handed them out to the squad.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The Mission is set to start soon,” said Alys Zess from outside the tent. “Five minutes.” she added, and left.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That's that,” said Hadrian, shrugging. “Go on. Get your weapons together,” he said, stowing his weapons away inside the regulation Mission uniform, which was essentially the same as those worn by the Operatives.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Roughly five minutes later, Alys Zess came back to collect them. They walked silently to the obstacle course with the other squads. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A farsighter's going view the Mission,” whispered Cam Landers of Squad I to Sierra, “and Stel's going to broadcast it into everyone's head. We're an Operative down,” he said, and shrugged. “You'd better be good.” Sierra rolled her eyes at him, and snorted.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In exactly three minutes the Mission will begin,” said Siaran Firefly, her face impassive. She stared at each of the students in turn, but lingered for a few moments on Sierra's face. Sierra frowned. “You will enter the Gauntlet and the Mission will continue until each squad has emerged.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Three minutes passed quickly, and the five squads entered the Gauntlet. The first thing that Hayden noticed was a lack of noise, followed closely by a foul stench.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]They're dampening the sound,” he whispered to Pharos, who sent it to Tara and Sierra psionically. “And there's a freak somewhere near.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The five squads had entered a sort of damp, warm and wholly artificial cave with a furious stench. It was all too apparent that a freak was somewhere near, and each squad proceeded with caution. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Careful, said Pharos, directly into his squad's minds, Cayla's lot are just behind us. Tara frowned. It was unsurprising, but she had thought they were moving fast enough.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We need to move quickly, said Pharos, practically jogging through the damp, wet space. A small space ahead provided an exit, through which he slipped easily, followed by Hayden and Tara. Just before Sierra followed, a furry spider-like creature about the size of a small dog dropped down from the ceiling. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra slid through the opening, snapping one of the freak's legs, although its venom dripped onto her hand as she rejoined her squad.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Fuck,” she swore, stealing a glance at the sticky, colourless goo coating the back of her hand. “Keep moving,” she said, getting to her feet. Pharos nodded, and they continued along the Gauntlet until they reached a flat expanse of land. The ground was hard and cold, and they were unable to see anything of the forest outside of it.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What's this?” asked Tara, looking around quickly. “Why can't I see?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It's been blocked off, said Pharos, and probably by some kind of freak's ability. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Makes the whole thing more authentic,” said Hayden, reaching for a gun. Behind him, Sierra was staring at the burn on her left hand, and moving slightly faster than normal. Pharos took a long, thin knife from his boot and held it carefully.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We don't have a fucking clue, he said, moving forward gingerly. As soon as he put his foot down, a thick, gnarled tree root shot up from the ground before him. He was barely saved by Sierra rushing forward to grab him, but she was hit by another root. Soon, the entire expanse of ground was covered by writhing, snakelike roots. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra shoved Pharos out of the way and began hacking at the twisting roots with her knife. Tara followed suit, although the two girls were knocked back repeatedly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Wait, said Pharos, I have a better idea... [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The tall, broad boy stood completely still for a few moments, and told the others to do the same. A few seconds later, Squad XIX came rushing forward, ignoring their presence totally.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What do we do?” said the thin, waif-like Graham Porter, a knife held gingerly in his right hand and a pistol in his left.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Esmerelda,” said Susannah Anders to the thin, mousy-haired Esmerelda Platt, who nodded, and concentrated. She stuck her hands as close to the squirming roots as their movement allowed and closed her eyes.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]An inferno emerged from her hands, burning away the roots quickly and completely, although only a small passageway.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Run! ordered Pharos, setting off behind them, mindful of the whipping of the branches behind them. Sierra was first out of the woods, bobbing and weaving quickly through Squad XIX. She was followed by Pharos, who tackled Susannah Anders to the ground in his haste to get through. Tara and Hayden came out behind him, tumbling to the ground in a heap. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Get up,” said Sierra, hopping from foot to foot. “We're almost through!” she said, glaring at the muddled pile of adolescents and then again through the writhing roots. The first to rise from the pile was Susannah Anders, who shot a dirty look at Pharos. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The two squads managed to stand and, gingerly, they advanced together along the thin path. They were still unable to see outside of the Gauntlet, though Pharos noted that their path was severely curtailed. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There's a freak somewhere near, he said. The path is too thin and there's no retreat. His eyes flicked briefly to Sierra, who was breathing deeply and slowing. He frowned, under the impression that she was having some sort of difficulty with her powers. He probed at her mind carefully.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra? he said, speaking directly into the short girl's mind.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She shot him a dry look and continued walking. From slightly behind her, Hayden looked pointedly at Squad XIX and then back at the woods. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No, said Pharos. Nothing we can do. Most we can hope for is to share the point, now. He spoke only to Hayden this time.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Squad XVII walked somewhat behind their rivals, XIX, because of a fleeting, vague instinct that Pharos had had. It served them well in the minutes following their escape from the deviant roots; Susannah Anders stepped on the cold, hard ground and was knocked over by an eruption of dirt.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A bear-like creature sprang from the ground, its matted fur covered in dirt, roots and worms. Its small, purely black eyes leered at the eight young men and women even as its nose twitched. It loomed over the students, almost twice as tall as Pharos, who was the tallest.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Dirtbear,” said Hayden, drawing a pistol from his holster. He took aim and shot it in the chest. It roared, but the bullet did little to stop its attack on Hadrian Zhouf, the dark-skinned, quiet boy from XIX. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Zhouf was knocked to the floor, his uniform torn by the dirtbear's long, sharp claws. Esmerelda Platt dove between Zhouf and the dirtbear and released a plume of red-gold fire from her hands.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The lumbering creature roared and fell back, fleeing from the fire. In a split second Sierra was on its back, sliding her long, thin knife quickly between its ribs even as Susannah and Hayden shot at it with their pistols. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It's dead,” said Graham Porter quietly, looking at the falling form of the dirtbear. Sierra had jumped from its back moments before it hid the ground with a thud, a thoroughly pleased look across her face. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As if realising they could move, Pharos commanded his squad to run, and run quickly. They passed quickly through the next area of the Gauntlet, which was a mock up of a bog, complete with a foul stench, only to find that Squad XVI had got there first, and that they were second.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tara swore.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You came second,” said Sue Cropper, an Operative from Squad II, tersely. “Out of the way, Squad XIX is coming out.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos moved out of the way, and as soon as he had done so a vision of what was still happening inside the Gauntlet took over his mind. The work of a farsighter and a psion, working in tandem, he assumed, and shrugged, watching Squad XX make their way past the dirtbear's corpse and through the bog to the exit. Mima Springwood, the leader of Squad XX, exited the Gauntlet shortly after XIX.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It was at least another ten minutes until Squad XVIII made their way through the narrow doorway after having a spot of trouble at the deviant roots. They had decided to hack their way through, and Claudia Rawlins had been knocked unconscious. Pharos snorted as she watched.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Bitch deserved it, he said to his squad, who laughed. Sierra especially had a vindictive smile marring her otherwise soft features.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]
[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle Kilgaran sat a distance away from the exit of the Gauntlet on a raised platform along with Siaran Firefly and most of the other staff. Some, of course, were sat with the students to ensure that they behaved. The vision of the Mission had been broadcast directly into her head by Stel Jane and Poda Clatt, a psion and a farsighter, working together. It had been one of Siaran Firefly's more inspired moments, Elle thought.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She stood when the broadcast was over, and spoke. Stel Jane would broadcast her words to each and ever student in Elle's own voice.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The Mission is ended, and I wish congratulations to Squad XVI and my consolations to Squad XVIII. It appears that the best squad did, indeed, win.” Elle frowned slightly at that, but continued. “It is my honour to award one hundred points to Squad XVI. In second place, we have Squad XVII, with seventy five points. Third is Squad XIX, whose handling of the dirtbear – along with Squad XVII – was marvellous, I award fifty points. Squad XX comes fourth with twenty five points, and Squad XVIII shall receive none.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There was a slight cheer as her words were repeated, and she sat down with a wry smile. The Mission was over, which meant that the staff assigned student duty would be directing their students away from the Gauntlet, which would be dealt with by Siaran at a later date.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As she watched the procession of seventy five students file out of the stands, she pursed her lips and thought about next year, and what she would have to do to keep the population of the school at a near constant. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Director Kilgaran, if I might...?” enquired Selene, her small, white teeth peeking out from behind her lips. Elle nodded, and moved off to speak with her young colleague.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Sep 6, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Eight[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle allowed herself to be talked at by Selene Goldenrose for a while, nodding in the appropriate places, but her mind was drawn somewhere else. It was unfortunate, she thought, that the young woman before her had done such a mediocre job with the first Mission. Its purpose was to ease the sixth years gently into the Championship and it did, but in a way Elle found most unsatisfying. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle nodded and made a sound of affirmation as the young woman before her chattered on about an idea she had had for her class, and when it appeared she had finished talking, Elle bid her farewell and searched the much-diminished crowd for her friend and Headmistress, Siaran Firefly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran,” said Elle, somewhat loudly, and the other woman excused herself from conversation with the short, lean Julja Celset and joined her.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Do you have the letter with you?” asked Elle.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ah,” said Siaran, “I do not. I can show it to you when we return to the school, however...?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle nodded to her, and directed her down the wooden steps from the raised platform. They walked through the forest alone, although Elle did notice Alys Zess following quietly behind them, and smiled.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Shall we meet next week, then, to look? I know I will be frightfully busy this week, and you of course have classes,” said Elle when they had reached the school and Siaran had retrieved the letter.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]To next week, then,” said Siaran, inclining her head, and the two women went their separate ways.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran dropped a few trinkets into the deep pockets of her dress and stood, looking for one last time in her mirror. She plucked a folded letter from her dressing table and slipped it carefully into her side pocket. She sighed when she caught sight of the slightly crumbling plaster behind the mirror, and made a note to have one of the building's caretakers do something to fix it. She crossed the room gracefully, noting that the chambermaid had yet to make her bed, and crossed the hardwood floor. She paused for a moment when she reached the soft werewolf's fur rug, luxuriating in the feeling against her feet. She reached the door and selected a sturdy pair of walking boots from the rack, and left the bedroom.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She smiled indulgently at Lucian, who had fallen asleep in his chair the night before, and made her way out of their quarters. Siaran slipped quietly into one of the service passageways and smiled, glad that Elle had had the foresight to keep at least some of the palace's features when she had gutted it and replaced it with her own vision. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She walked down a set of narrow, uneven stairs, and emerged near the gym, where Elle and Alys Zess waited as had been planned. She rolled her eye when she saw that both of them were wearing their uniforms on a free day. Granted, they were to be traipsing around the forest, but that was no special excuse. The picnic basket Elle carried at her side made Siaran smile with delight.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I do enjoy a picnic,” said Siaran lightly, sliding her arm under Elle's and holding the other woman. “Are we ready to leave?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Alys nodded her assent silently, and the three women left the school through a small side door near the swimming pool.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]They walked outside of the walled gardens and carefully protected courtyards and into the Blackwood Forest itself, though Alys was careful to bolt and lock the gate behind them. They walked down a thin, meandering path through the woods lined with gnarled tree.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Do you have any idea where we're going?” said Elle companionably, turning her head just so as to be able to watch Siaran's face as she replied.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I have something of an idea,” she said in reply, “although it could be anywhere in the forest.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What are we looking for, Headmistress?” said Alys politely. She had been asked to come to provide the two older women with protection, but she could serve a different purpose just as well.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The ruins of a very old building,” said Siaran softly, “or maybe a set of buildings. The letter was unclear.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Exactly how old is it?” said Elle, stepping delicately over a twisted root.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We don't know,” said Siaran. She shrugged. “The first concrete reference to it is in the third century BDR, but there are—reports which indicate a much older building.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]If it were any older wouldn't it be buried?” said Alys, chewing her upper lip when she had finished.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No,” said Siaran, and smiled. “It was destroyed, I think, in the thirteenth century. There should be evidence of the structure somewhere near here, however.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The three women walked on in comfortable silence until they came to a fork in the path. Siaran stopped abruptly and frowned. She pulled the letter from her pocket and read it over, but looked just as unhappy when she had finished.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I don't know which way to go,” she said. “The ruins could be down either path.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]If I may?” said Alys, and waited for Siaran to nod before continuing, “I think the right hand path leads to an abandoned mine. I – once, in our sixth year, Stel Jane and I happened upon it, and I think this is the path we used.” The young woman was on pins, her head snapping every which way at the slightest sound. It would please her greatly to get her mission over and done with as quickly as possible.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran bit her lower lip and paused to consider it. Elle watched her with a raised eyebrow. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Left, then. There was never any mention of a mine particularly close in my papers,” said Siaran, folding the letter carefully and put it gently back into her pocket. A chill wind blew then, reminding her that the seasons were changing from summer to autumn yet again, and that she had rituals to perform.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Then let's go,” said Elle, shifting the picnic basket to be slightly more comfortable in her arms. Soon, Elle and Siaran began to talk of old times: life at Queen Carmen's court, summer at the Firefly family home, winters spent with the Kilgarans and their travels across the world. Alys smiled and stayed mostly silent, watching carefully for any sign of trouble. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]After almost three hours of searching, Elle came across a secluded area, just away from the path, which she proclaimed the perfect place for a picnic. The three women sat and ate quietly until Elle started quizzing Alys about the progress of her recent mission.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We have been unable to uncover any of the terrorists, Director,” she said between bites, “but Arran returned there right after the Mission.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A most unfortunate thing, the explosion,” said Elle, her eyes downcast but sparkling strangely. Alys's own eyes narrowed, suspicion taking over.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes,” she agreed, frowning. She ate quickly, and scanned the area for any danger. Despite her superiors' lackadaisical attitudes toward the Forest, she knew they were in danger.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We shouldn't stay in one place too long, Director,” she murmured softly to the older woman, who nodded. The picnic ended swiftly after that, as if both women had become aware of the danger they were in.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I confess,” said Siaran, when they had been at it for almost another hour, “that I don't think we'll find it today. I had hoped, but...”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Are you sure it exists?” said Elle, leaning against a tall, ancient oak.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes,” snapped Siaran, but then reddened. “Actually, no,” she said, slightly quieter than before, “but it should exist. This is the perfect place for it, really. The trees are thicker in this part of the forest, and there are more low-level freaks than normal forest creatures.” She spread her hands. “It should be here.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We can't give up yet,” said Elle cheerfully, picking a fallen leaf from her hair. “Oh, look, I think Alys has found something!” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Alys's head snapped right back to the direction of Elle as soon as her name was called. When she registered what the older woman had said, she blushed.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh, er, no, Director. I just thought that the stones over there looked too uniform to be natural, but … no, I don't think I found what we're looking for.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It wouldn't hurt to look,” said Siaran, peering at the edge of a long, flat stone stuck in the ground. “Come,” she said, and stepped forward gracefully, her dress swaying and pooling around her ankles as she did so.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle stepped daintily over a sharp, jagged rock and noticed, fleetingly, that the blue-grey of the rock matched Siaran's dress beautifully. Siaran climbed atop the rock and looked down into the valley below, a thoughtful look on her face. The trees thinned down the sides of the valley, but a landscape could change over the course of a few hundred years. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I think we should go search in the valley,” she said mildly, and turned to see Elle and Alys. As she did, she noticed a large, hairy creature lunging at her, and heard the simultaneous cries of her companions.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Headmistress!”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pushed from the stone, Siaran tumbled down the incline and into the valley, all the time cursing her decision to wear a dress, her heart beating quickly. She rolled over a stone and gasped, a sharp, shock of pain emanating from her lower back. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She became aware, quite quickly, that she had slowed almost to a stop. Ignoring her dirtied and somewhat ripped dress, she rose to her feet and took control of the situation. Both Elle and Alys were still too far away to provide her with aid, and although her assailant had not stayed on top of her, it was surely near. That left her to deal with the problem alone.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She cast her gaze back up the incline, and set her face grimly. A short distance away, crouching, was a huge, hairy half-man, half-wolf. A werewolf, then, she thought. Its snout was shorter than a normal wolf's, and its hid betrayed a cruel, vicious intelligence.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Very well, she thought, and stood her ground, facing the slavering creature on its own terms.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran stood proud, her right arm reaching upwards into they sky, even as her left reached into her deep pockets to find one of her trinkets. Found, it was launched into the sky even as her right arm swept downwards, and her legs moved, completing the dance.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]By the blood of my ancestors you are called,” she intoned, her dress swirling out as she danced, her hair coming free from its tight bun, “Firefly is in need! Come, Truli!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The ritual words, combined with her dance, ripped a hole in the fabric of the universe. Siaran danced her graceful dance, and all the while the hole became bigger and bigger, until a floating, humanoid form slipped out of it. The portal closed behind it, and Siaran stopped her dance.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The guardian force glowed with an intense, fierce white light that obscured most of its features. Its face was pointed, alien, and it looked at Siaran with narrow, calculating eyes. It nodded to her.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Defend me and defend Firefly, O Guardian!” said the busty woman, her arms raised above her head. “As we honour you, honour us!” The creature nodded once more, and flew at the somewhat confused werewolf.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She watched Truli loop and dance around the werewolf, who snapped and lunged at the guardian force. Her chest felt heavy, and her breath came slowly. Blood coursed through her veins, her heart beating like a drum. Her hearing obscured, her one focus was keeping Truli bound to the physical plane.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She shook violently, straining her body and muscles, acting as a conduit for Truli. Sweat dripped from her forehead and down her nose. She grimaced. She felt her control slipping, and fought against it.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She relished the sight of Truli cutting into the werewolf, its blood dripping onto the long, green grass of the valley bottom. It roared, as therianthropes were wont to do, but her resolve held firm. In the distance she spotted Alys taking a quiet and careful aim at the 'wolf with her revolver. Siaran nodded to herself; Alys was an Operative, and would have loaded silver bullets. She felt a pang of confusion as she realised Elle was nowhere to be seen, but it subsided when she felt a hand grip her shoulder tightly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Without turning to see, she knew it would be Elle. She set her jaw once more and concentrated, lending Truli her stern will. The being was invigorated with it, and redoubled its efforts.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The werewolf howled with pain as Truli ripped its arm off, devouring it in the process. Siaran watched as Alys shot at the creature with grim determination. The silver would poison it, and it was losing blood quickly from its lost arm. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She watched in fascination as Truli disappeared inside the werewolf and and burst out of its head, blood and brain matter flying everywhere. The guardian force crowed in victory, and Siaran let her arms drop and her will loosen. In seconds, the shining, floating creature was sucked through a portal similar to the one it had come from.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She dropped to her knees, panting. She fell forward, using her arms to brace her. Before she fainted, she felt Elle's hand squeeze her shoulder in a show of solidarity.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Sep 7, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

Nine

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle pursed her lips, looking down at the crumpled form of her long-time friend and colleague, Siaran Firefly. She was coming to, and Alys leaned down and put her into a sitting position.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That was … quite something, my dear friend,” said Elle, slightly awed by her friend's skill. It was true that Elle had seen Siaran summoning many times before, but it was also true that Siaran had never summoned in battle, and she had definitely never summoned such a powerful being in her presence. It led to an understanding, of sorts.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran put her hand to her head and gave her a dry smile. Alys helped her to her feet, and brushed off the older woman's dress.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That was amazing, Headmistress!” she said, clearly full of awe.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It works better on demons,” replied Siaran, wincing as she put too much weight on her leg. Summoning such a powerful force had its consequences, she noted. “It's a pity we have to go back now,” said Siaran, looking around the valley wistfully.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We can come back,” said Elle, clasping Siaran's hands in her own. She caught sight of the werewolf's corpse over Siaran's shoulder, and wrinkled her nose. “But we'll send a clean up team in first, I think.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Alys nodded at the unspoken command, and Elle turned to look her friend in the face.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Let's get back,” she said, softly, “and we can see about tending your injuries.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'll have to carve a new token,” murmured Siaran, “and perform the ceremony of thanks...” she added as Elle guided her out of the valley with Alys stalking silently behind them, poised for further attack. Just as we trained her, thought Elle absently, her arm draped about the other woman's shoulders tightly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos scowled as he settled into his seat in the smaller of the school's auditoriums, Sierra to the left of him and Hayden to the right. He scowled again when he saw the back of Claudia Rawlins's head, and once more when he looked up at the stage and saw a tall, graceful woman with chestnut hair and low-cut dress.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Mother, he said, speaking into the coldly-beautiful woman's head, how lovely to see you. He nodded to her, an action which she returned almost imperceptibly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Son, she replied, the connection shaky and malformed. Pharos smirked, secure in the knowledge that his own skills far outstripped those of his mother. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Is that--” said Sierra, but Pharos cut her off.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes,” he said, tersely. His relationship with his mother was a strained one – something that Sierra knew well – and her presence at the school disturbed him. She was here on official business which made it slightly more tolerable, but he knew that she would use it as an excuse to drill him about his studies. His resentment was made worse by the fact that his time was being wasted on a free day.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Attention,” said Selene Goldenrose, rapping the hardwood podium with a small hammer. Pharos snorted. “I would like to introduce Countess Darbay, Lady Amelia Ward. She is here to give a presentation on the subject of succubi.” The students clapped politely, but the sound died quickly. Selene nodded to Lady Ward, who stepped forward and took her place at the podium.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Good morning, all,” she said cheerfully, the words a contrast to her stern face. “I am Lady Ward of Darbay, and today we will discuss the various methods of casting succubi from the bodies of their male victims. I regret to say that incubi do not fall within my experience. Now, can someone tell me what a succubus is?” She looked intently at Viktoryia Hansel, whose hand shot into the air instantly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yes?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A succubus is a particular type of demon who feeds on the sexual energy of men,” said the tall blonde in her oddly accented Darrian. “They are female.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Correct,” said Lady Ward, “if a little limited. Does anyone care to elaborate?” Pharos rolled his eyes. He knew the answer she was looking for, even if nobody else did. It was easy to overlook. He was spared discourse with her by Mima Springwood.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Succubi are not just demons,” she said. “A succubus is any female being with the ability to feed on the sexual energy of men. Usually limited to demons, sometimes it's … not.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Lady Ward gave no answer save inclining her head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Succubi are somewhat uncommon in Spyr Darr proper, although in some parts of the Empire they are rife. Now, how does one spot the victim of a succubus?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]This time, Hayden raised his hand. Pharos shot him a dry look, one eyebrow raised. Far be it from him to prevent his friend and squadmate participating, but he had wanted his mother's attention to linger elsewhere. She nodded to him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tiredness,” he said, and then added, “a deep, restless kind of tiredness coupled with sexual frustration.” Pharos narrowed his eyebrows as Sierra fidgeted next to him; he missed his mother's reply as he scolded her. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]One of the major problems with succubi is that the majority of the world does not believe they exist. In our so-called Age of Enlightenment there is no room for succubi, demons and monstrosities. A dangerous mode of being,” said Lady Ward, pausing to take a draught from her goblet. “Now, tell me – you, with the large breasts,” she said, pointing at Sierra, “what is the quickest way to cast out a succubus?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos slid down in his seat, not caring about the lecture his posture and manners would get him. He even missed the answer Sierra gave, his face red. The blunt, direct attitude of Lady Ward had attracted trouble in the past, and now, it seemed, she had decided to inflict it upon him. She knew perfectly well that the girl she had selected was Sierra Firefly but it was her way to inflict embarrassing directness upon those she encountered. It would only get worse from that point on, he thought, and dared to pay attention once more.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]An excellent method,” said Lady Ward, “though not the quickest.” She scanned the room, and settled on Susannah Anders. “Ah. You look like you would know.” Pharos snorted as she spluttered through an explanation. It was useless asking, he thought, since they had only covered succubi briefly in their fourth year. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Quite right,” said the tall, graceful woman, “the quickest way to oust a succubus is to take her victim as your own. If one lays claim to a man through the simple act of sexual intercourse she will be forced to leave for greener pastures. Ethereal sex cannot compete with the friction of two flesh and blood beings.” The Lady Ward spoke passionately, almost reverently.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]After his mother's answer, Pharos began to ignore the presentation. He had, after all, seen and heard it before at home. Before he was even eight years old he had known how to expel succubi from a home and man. The talk ended soon enough, although not before several of his peers were walked through answers with an embarrassing lack of tact from the Lady Ward. Before Pharos was able to leave, however, his mother spoke into his mind.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I should like to speak with you, she said, in a tone which brooked no opposition. He frowned as he received the thought; her psionics had improved, it seemed, no matter what his earlier opinion had been.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Done speaking with Selene Goldenrose, Lady Ward seemed to glide over to Pharos, her dress trailing behind her delicately. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos, my dear, dear, son,” she said, embracing him. “It's lovely to see you!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No it's not, he said. “A pleasure, Mother.” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And your studies are going well?” she said mildly, giving no indication he had said anything else.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You aren't interested, so why pretend? he said inwardly. “As well as can be expected. My squad is currently placed second in the Inter-Squad Championship.” His mother flashed him a smile.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It will do, she said simply, but outwardly, “It pleases me to see you do well.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]At least I'm not dead, he countered, “I hope to improve our standing as of the next Mission.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A pity, replied his mother, her face the picture of a serene, happy woman. See that you do.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I have every confidence in your abilities, my dear son, and even though it pains me to leave you, I am afraid I must. I have business to which I should attend.” She leaned forward and drew him into an embrace.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Give my regards to Father and Anila,” said Pharos mildly. She gave a sharp nod and strode purposefully out of the room. He rolled his eyes at her. Their relationship – or lack thereof – had been the same since he had started the school. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We're going for a walk in the gardens,” said Tara, who had waited for him to finish with his mother even as the other students had filed out of the room. “Want to come?” He shook his head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No, I have to go to the library to do research,” he said. He shrugged. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Right,” said Hayden, nodding. “Sierra?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Can't. Mother needs me – something about a 'ceremony of thanks'.” She grimaced, and shook her head apologetically. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos watched Hayden and Tara walk out of the auditorium, and walked behind them slowly, turning the conversation with his mother over in his head. He was dimly aware of Sierra walking beside him, eerily quiet like a cat stalking her prey. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Her command of her psionic abilities had improved greatly, something with which he was distinctly uncomfortable. If she continued improving, they might even match his own, which was a worrying thought.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Your mother seems nice,” said Sierra carefully, walking slightly behind him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Hardly,” replied Pharos instantly, falling into her trap. He swore to himself.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh? She can't be worse than mine.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ah. But you're not a disappointment, are you? You're just a danger to yourself and everyone else.” And a reminder of her guilt, he added mentally.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No,” she conceded, “I'm not. I'm something of a success, I think.” Pharos snorted.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Well, I am a disappointment. Mother likes to control things, and I'm out of her control. I don't sit there and accept her views. I push. And she doesn't like it.” Pharos frowned. “She puts on a front in public, of course, but she hates me and what I stand for. Freedom,” he added, seeing Sierra's blank look. He waited until understanding dawned in her eyes before continuing. “So she has as little to do with me as possible, and only asks that I 'do no irreparable damage' to 'the good name of Ward.'”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That's sad,” said Sierra, touching his elbow tenderly. “I hope you can salvage something.” She paused for a moment, as if considering something important. “If you want, I'll snap her neck.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He almost laughed, but a prickly feeling across the back of his neck made him reconsider, and he looked the short, chesty girl in the eyes.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ah, no, thanks... I don't think my sister is ready to inherit,” he said quickly, aware that she was as sincere as she ever was. They parted ways, then, Sierra heading for her mother's quarters and Pharos for the library.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Her office usually gave her a sense of calm, directed purpose, but Elle found that she was on edge. Feeling and emotions coursed through her body relentlessly. She was able to locate fear, and then anticipation, and even further she felt excitement. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Chin up, Elle,” she muttered to herself, looking over the mission briefing she had just drafted. She knew it was the altercation between Siaran and the werewolf the day before that had her drawn so tightly, something she had last felt many years before. She shook her head in an effort to dispel the memories and turned her focus back to her work.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It would do, she thought critically. Squads IX, X and XI were perhaps not the best qualified for the mission, but the practise was sorely needed. She signed the papers with a flourish, relishing the mark that made it official and a matter of record.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It was necessary for the running of the school, and it did make matters easier when she needed to look a particularly important mission up. It helped that she enjoyed the process, of course. She glanced at the clock hanging on her wall. Operative Alys Zess had an appointment with her shortly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]At the reminder of the skilled young woman, Elle found that her lips had curled into a smile. And why not? she thought to herself. Her plans for Alys were proceeding apace, although the young woman required further training before she would be where she was needed. When the time came it would be welcome rest for Elle, of that much she was certain; of the rest she was content for it to remain a mystery.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Mysteries provide entertainment, if little else, her grandmother had always said, and far be it from Elle to reject such a philosophy. The rigid control preferred by Amelia Ward had been one of the reasons Elle had not wanted her as a part of Blackwood organisation. Despite the stern image she presented to the world, Elle Kilgaran was no lover of stricture for its own sake. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Her reverie was broken by a series of sharp knocks against her door. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Enter,” she said sternly, looking forward to when she could leave her office and settle down with a bottle or two of the wine she had been sent for her birthday.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Oct 8, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ten[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In a secluded, almost secret, garden of the Palace at Blackwood, Siaran Firefly had secreted away her Summoner's Hallows. Its walls were tall and thick, and formed a rhombus – perfect for her Altar.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran Firefly had lit the ritual fire at the centre of the rhombus and had collected her Summoner's Hallows from the ritual box underneath the Altar at its northern point. She stood, swathed in crimson robes, before the ritual fire, her daughter opposite. She looked her daughter in the eyes, and smiled in spite of the deeply unimpressed look gracing her face.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In thanks the fire is lit,” she chanted, “and in thanks it is that we are gathered here. Firefly abides by its promises in return for promises kept.” She nodded, and Sierra stepped forward, the hallows-knife poised in her left hand.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In blood it is that you were bound,” she said, her voice strong and unwavering, “and in blood it is that we give honour unto you.” She cut quickly, from the base of her thumb to the base of her little finger.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran cut with her own knife, from the base of her forefinger to the top of her wrist. Solemnly, they clasped hands – Siaran's left to Sierra's right – and dripped blood over the fire.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Thus it is done, and Firefly thanks her patron,” intoned the two of them in unison. Maternal pride surged up in Siaran during that moment, though she quashed it. The same ritual had been done by Firefly women – and men, she remembered dimly – over the centuries. It was powerful, binding and served to remind them of the link they had with their guardian.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Blood has been given,” said Siaran, stepping back from the fire and releasing Sierra's hand. “With blood as the door, I call, O Guardian of Firefly! Grace us with your presence!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The guardian force would have no option but to heed the call: Firefly had called out to it with thanks, and a sacrifice of blood, of the very lifeforce that kept it tethered to her family. The air turned cold, the fire died in a wailing gust of wind, and above the ashes was a blood-red window linked to an ethereal plane. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The white, pointed and wholly alien face of the guardian force Truli stared out, its eyes revealing an inhuman intelligence incomprehensible to humans – eyes trained on Sierra.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]O Guardian of Firefly, an offering of blood shall be made. A willing sacrifice,” she said, her voice drawn tight, “in return for unending, enduring protection.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran nodded to herself, slowly and slightly. Sierra had spoken the ritual words, and even without summoning talent, Truli was forced to obey someone of Firefly blood. Her ancestors had seen to that. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A sharp wind stalked the garden and the air grew heavy around her. For a moment she thought that her daughter was rejected, cast aside because of tainted blood, but her fears were unfounded. Her heat beat a tattoo in her head as her blood coursed through her veins. Truli was accepting the offer, and the blood of Firefly was responding.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]At the other side of the fire, Sierra gasped. Blood poured out of the wound on her hand quickly and surely, but floated elegantly to the guardian force instead of dripping to the ground. Blood flowed through the wound until her head felt weak, as if she were just about to fall asleep, and then the blood stopped, and the wound healed. It left a scar, and instinctively, Sierra knew that her mother would have one to match.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Thank you,” whispered Siaran, and the crimson window closed. The fire sprang to life once more, and the air returned to a normal – if somewhat chilly – temperature for early autumn. She stepped forward to embrace her daughter, keeping her left hand away; the ritual had not healed her cut. For a moment, her blood rushed, and sang, rejoicing in the connection it shared with her daughter. It soon died, as outside of the ritual, the summon magic was but a distant dream for her daughter.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Take this,” said Siaran, taking her daughter's hallows-knife even as she pressed a wooden token in the shape of Truli into Sierra's hands. “In moments of great danger, remember the feelings you felt this day, and call upon our guardian... it will remember, and come to your aid.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra nodded, her face strangely blank. Siaran frowned, and hoped that she had not withdrawn into herself, as sometimes happened. She shook her head, as she launched into a stream of questions.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran allowed herself to smile.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It's strange that we have these gardens,” said Tara, her long, red hair freed from its constraints; the privacy of the Palace's gardens allowed her to relax. She shook her head as if in disbelief of the carefully manicured flowerbeds. She leaned back on the wide stone bench and sniffed, drawing in the scents of the flowers and herbs.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is,” murmured Hayden, looking down at the sprig of lavender he was playing with. “Director Kilgaran stripped the insides of the Palace but left most of the outside alone...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The largest of the gardens was just outside of the refectory – a relic from when it had been a great hall – but they expanded far from the building itself, and a few touched upon the forest. Others had been cleared for use as running tracks or as pens for captive monstrosities, but others still had been carefully cultivated and nurtured. It was in one such area that Tara and Hayden sat, shaded from the afternoon sun by a hedge.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A letter from home arrived yesterday,” said Hayden softly, peering at Tara with chocolate brown eyes.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What did it say?” said Tara, her voice almost a whisper. She leaned forward slightly and touched his knee.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The—troubles have stopped,” he said, “but with consequences. My father's stock in the city was all destroyed.” The words stung as they tumbled from his mouth, but he took a deep breath and continued. “My brother was injured in the fire. He was hit by falling timber... he lost his leg,” he said, looking into Tara's eyes.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That's terrible,” she said, but winced almost as soon as the words formed. “What will happen now?” If she had had a brother who had lost his leg, her mother would have been beside herself, Tara knew. A legless young man was useless; he could not be married off for political gain as no woman would want him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]His family will have to leave their home in the city and come to live with us behind the Wall.” He paused. “And I might have to go work for my father.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You can't,” said Tara sharply, her face hardening. Hayden shook his head slowly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I won't,” he replied, “but I should.” Tara made a small sound, her mouth open slightly, as if she were going to reply, but stopped. She raised a finger to her lips and beckoned for him to follow.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He did not know how she had picked it up, but some distance away from them, talking in low, quiet voices, stood two of their teachers. The woman with her back to them would be Instructor Celset, which he knew from the cascade of tight, golden curls the feminine curves of her body. The man facing them could only be Instructor Tress, and his deep, plain voice marked him so.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]...have them trailing real targets, and hunting them,” he said, resting his large arms against a stone arch.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A worthy test,” remarked Celset, her voice low and smooth.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Selene's idea,” said Tress, looking down at Celset. Hayden snorted, amused by the thought of Tress pursuing the small woman, but he was silenced by Tara's elbow in his ribs. “But I helped.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Celset replied, but neither of the students heard her. It elicited a laugh from Tress, and when he replied, the topic had changed.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tara tiptoed away from the hedge, imploring Hayden to follow her as she sat back down on the low stone bench.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Let's go tell Pharos,” said Hayden. Tara opened her mouth as if to reply, but frowned as she saw a spiralling column of smoke coming from one of the gardens. She shook it off as Hayden grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the rock.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And the woods wept tears for her, she of the green girdle...” murmured Pharos, tracing the old and long-faded words with his fingers. He dropped the old and heavy tome suddenly, clutching at his head.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Where are your shields? came the mocking mental voice of Claudia Rawlins, I can see everything...[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Fuck off, you stupid bitch, sent Pharos, filling the thought with as much hatred and force as he had. Rawlins was ejected from his head, but when he opened his eyes again she was sitting across the table from him, left hand rubbing at her temple.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Just what do you think you're doing?” he demanded, narrowing his eyes at her. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Practising, she said. “Can I not sit with an age-mate of mine?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Practise on someone who cares. “It would be more appropriate had we a chaperone,” countered Pharos. Not that I would care for you or your family name.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Good, said Rawlins placidly, because you won't ever get the chance to take it. She looked as if she were going to say something aloud, but she was interrupted by Tara, who cheerfully greeted them.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos! Claudia!” she said, sitting down with a wide smile. “I hope we're not intruding?” she said, and continued before the girl could answer, “Good. Because we want to talk to Pharos. Official Squad XVII matters. I know you understand.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Faced with that as an argument, Claudia Rawlins knew she had to leave. She glared at Pharos one last time and lashed out with the force of her mind. It bounced from his shields, and she made a sound of impotent rage. She left the three members of Squad XVII alone.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Thank you,” said Pharos, sighing in relief. “She isn't as good a psion as I am, but she's persistent and can attack quickly.” Tara shrugged at him and gestured for Hayden to sit. The red-haired girl looked ready to burst with excitement, and seemed disappointed when Hayden spoke before she did.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We think the next Mission will be a real mission that would have been given to the Operatives.” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]With an actual target to kill,” added Tara. “Do you have any ideas about what we might be facing?” Pharos rolled his eyes. It was true that he spent more time than the other students in the library, but even he had no access to the Classifieds. He said as much.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]All Blackwood Mission Logs are classified. Only Operatives can access them.” He paused. “Except for the first five. I can read Squad I through V's first official mission reports. I'm going to get them,” he said, and take the poetry back, he added to himself. He picked the old book up with one hand and wandered back through the shelves to its place.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He found himself glad, yet again, that Elle had spared the Palace's library in her senseless destruction – refurbishment, she had called it – of the building. It was old and smelled so, and the shelves had stood where they stood for centuries. Its books were old and looked it, and the place had an air of history that Pharos was unable to feel anywhere else in the school. He placed the book back in its place amongst the other early medieval Darrian poetry and made a bee-line for the Archives, a long, dark room at the back of the library.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The archivist, a thin, stern-looking man, watched his movements like a hawk. Pharos headed for the only place he was allowed – the Declassifieds – and browsed. He had found the reports he was looking for when he heard a particularly loud thought, which was in itself a rare thing, as he was a better broadcaster than he was a receiver.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Should I tell Stel? Yes. I must...[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]His interest piqued, Pharos moved slowly in the direction of the thought. He was careful to stay in the Declassifieds, and soon he saw the pretty, young Alys Zess and her subordinate, Stel Jane. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You heard about the attack?” said Alys, smoothing her short hair. Stel nodded. “Well... we were looking for an old building. A ruin. That isn't so odd, but … what Firefly said on the way back was a bit strange.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What did she say?” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]For a moment, Alys looked hesitant to reply. Before she did, however, she caught sight of Pharos peering at them through the stacks. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ward!” she said, her voice grown cold, “You aren't supposed to be in here. Leave before I dock points.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pharos left sharpish. They were already down to seventy points after what Sierra had done in Demonology. He cursed Alys's perceptiveness, but at least he had something of interest to report to his Squad. He left clutching the reports, his mind already churning out theory after theory.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Oct 9, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]An Interlude: Letters from a Most Delicate Correspondence[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Dearest Elle, [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I am pleased with the progress your school has made. Your students are excellent and the aristocratic families of children in attendance have complained far less about their situation of late.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I must confess that I was sceptical at first. Why ever would I need another military academy? Of course, I have been proven wrong. Your Operatives are far better trained than Her Majesty's Army; this shall be remedied, of course.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Funding has been increased. Parliament will be sending you the additional monies shortly. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Your cousin,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Spyrqueen Luisa V of the House of Kilgaran, High Princess of the Principalities of Darr, High Queen of New Lendis[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The letter is dated the fourteenth day of the eighth month of the year 1828 ADR.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle Kilgaran,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is the honour of Her Majesty's Parliament to bestow upon the most noble institution Blackwood Manor Academy at the Palace at Blackwood an additional three thousand Spyrroses (Sr3000). [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The Chamber of Ladies Temporal would like to remind the administration of the Blackwood Manor Academy at the Palace at Blackwood that further funding this year will not be given.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The funds, as dictated by Spyrqueen Luisa V of the House of Kilgaran, High Princess of the Principalities of Darr and the High Queen of New Lendis, stand at the sum of:[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Six thousand Spyrroses and two hundred Darrian silvercoins. (Sr6200)[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In the name of Queen and Empire,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Her Majesty's Parliament,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The Treasury,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Lady Sopea Dalwett[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The letter is dated the ninth day of the eighth month of the year 1828 ADR.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]My dear friend,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I am surprised to receive a letter from you so early in the year. I had not expected a letter until at least the winter. The students have not yet arrived. Thank you for your praise – it has certainly been a battle to achieve such high standards. I feel that it was a battle well worth it.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I will not apologise to the students' families. There is a reason for selecting the children of aristocrats. They have already adapted to long periods spent away from home, and some of the older and more interesting families have displayed certain qualities that we value highly. We will be selecting new students this year, or perhaps the next. Prepare the Ladies.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Do not apologise for me, cousin. I have no apologies to give. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The increase of funds is greatly appreciated. Our new budget allows us a much greater arm. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yours in kinship,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle Kilgaran [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The letter is dated the twenty-sixth day of the eighth month of the year 1828 ADR.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There has been trouble of late in New Lendis. The army is not faring well. I request five of your Operative Squads in order to turn the tide of war. The Free Crann State must not be allowed to capture the Luwele River. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The war is costing us a great deal of money and resources; funds have already been taken from other institutions. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is with a heavy heart that I request this of you, but it must be done. No response is required. A ship will be waiting at Salisport in one week.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]For the Empire, [/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]
Luisa[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The letter is dated the second day of the ninth month of the year 1828 ADR.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]My Dear Luisa,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is with regret that I inform you that the Red Rose was the target of terrorist action in Salisport. I have assigned two Squads to look into the matter, but there are no further Squads available for the mission in New Lendis. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It is regrettable, certainly, and I will find the terrorists and insure they are brought to justice. Perhaps I can send help later in the year. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We are of Kilgaran. We endure.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Elle[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The letter is dated the ninth day of the ninth month of the year 1828 ADR. It is slightly smudged in places.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sister,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There is information that you will find interesting. I learnt it from a summoning. There was, in times gone by, a place where the Summoners lived. You have read part of their history. It is in the library at the Residence. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There was a Lodge. In the forest. Somewhere. You should find it. The beings with whom I have spoken intimate that it is a powerful place for summoners of the ancient lines. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There was a small incident in your absence. I have solved it, but the family in question are no longer as pleased with us as they once were.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I apologise.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Mabell Callan[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The letter is dated the twentieth day of the ninth month of the year 1828 ADR. It is written in a dark red substance that does not smell like ink.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Mabell,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I will look for this Lodge of yours, if it is indeed as powerful as you say. I need you to look at the oldest books in the Residence. Send them to me. I require them.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I do not look forward to returning home. Whatever you have been doing I would ask you to stop doing it. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Remember the terms of our agreement, Mabell. It is imperative that you do not alienate the townspeople near the Residence.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]If nothing else, we depend upon them for food. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yours in the Art, [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran Firefly[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The letter is dated the first day of the tenth month of the year 1828 ADR. It is written on parchment and it is slightly creased, as if someone had gripped it with too much force.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She of the Strange Whispers,[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I have heard from the vampires from the old country that you are seeking information. I can give it to you, provided you give me something in return. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I will meet with you. It will take me some weeks to arrive from the Free Crann State. You have time enough to meet me. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I will be at the usual place at the usual time. Come alone.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I shan't bite you.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yet.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sweet-tooth[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The letter is written in shaky script and is dated the eighth day of the eighth month 1828 ADR. It is covered in dirt.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Oct 13, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

This chapter is a bit shorter than the others. I'm sorry about that but it's just how it goes. I'd really appreciate any feedback if you'd like to give any.

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Eleven[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran slumped into an over-stuffed chair in the staff room. Her seventh year ethics students had proven difficult that morning, and she was already tired from her summoning the day before. Ordinarily she would have retired to her quarters, but Selene Goldenrose had something to show her after her day's lessons were over, and Siaran did not wish to invite the younger woman into her rooms. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She closed her eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. She had been waiting for nearly quarter of an hour when Selene stepped through the door, two burly fifth-year boys in tow. Between them they carried a very large, very old wooden chest. Siaran looked at the younger woman quizzically as she sent the two boys away.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We found it in the library,” she said as an explanation, “but it was moved to storage with a lot of the other things. It has taken a while to sort through most of the boxes and chests that were left here, and that's to say nothing of the books...” she continued, trailing off.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And what does it have to do with me?” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Its content is rather obscure. In keeping, I think, with your rather more arcane knowledge. I cannot read the language, but the pictures tell me more than words ever could.” She knelt down and opened the chest, brushing her sleek black hair from her face. She took a moment to select a book and drew it out, closing the chest behind her.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Selene flipped the book open to a section near the middle. The words were familiar to Siaran, but the diagrams were far more interesting. Pentagrams and summoning circles accounted for most of them, but as she flicked through the pages of the book she had taken from her colleague, she noted several illustrations of creatures she herself had summoned in the past.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ashcroft had summoners, then,” she muttered. “I had expected, but it had never been confirmed...”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You will translate the books?” asked Selene cautiously. Siaran nodded in reply. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Thank you for bringing them to me,” said Siaran. Selene shrugged; Siaran frowned. It was a gesture that did not fit the delicate young noblewoman.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It was a matter of luck that I opened that particular chest. It is as it was when I found it. Nothing was taken or added. Would you like me to send for some students to help you take it away?” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No,” said Siaran after a moment's consideration. Selene inclined her head and bid her good day, and Siaran sat back down on the over-stuffed chair. She reached into the pocket of her uniform and drew out a handful of wooden disks. Sierra had carved them, and then Siaran had soaked them in her blood until they were ready.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She took a disk bearing the image of a small creature out and crushed it in her hand. It was thin enough that it snapped instantly, and when she tossed it to the ground, her vision distorted momentarily.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]When her eyes had stopped seeing ripples, a squat, ugly creature of about a foot high with no head but two arms stood before her on its long, thick tail. It was a creature she had no name for, but that she had summoned many times and with whom she had eventually made a pact: she would give it blood in return for its aid when required. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It was a crude form of the blood-bonding that her ancestors had done to bond Truli to their service, but one that was temporary and involved little danger to either her or her family.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Carry the chest,” she said, and the creature did. Slithering across the floor, it lifted the chest above its eyeless, headless form and stood waiting for further orders.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Follow me,” said Siaran, striding out of the room. She did not bother to close the door behind her. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She allowed a smile to grace her face. It had been a long time since she had used a summoning for such a purpose. It had been common in the days of the Summoners, she had read, to use otherworldly creatures for practical purposes. It had surprised Siaran to learn that the creatures she could summon were not limited to ethereal presences, but that flesh-and-blood creatures could be called in addition.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She had made liberal use of it at first, but the constant draining of blood had left her weak for months. She stopped when she became aware of her pregnancy. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She ignored the open stares of the few students she passed. She was faintly aware of a fourth-year girl squeaking as they climbed the stairs—as she climbed the stairs, she amended; the summoning slithered. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She entered her quarters and sent the summoning into her bedroom. She barely noticed Lucian's absence as she watched the summoning fade into nothingness, its task complete.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She scrawled a quick note to Lucian and set it down on his favoured chair. She would not be attending lunch that day.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I think it's a track-and-destroy mission,” said Sierra, flipping Pharos over her shoulder and onto the mat below them. “Not a vampire or any of the known therianthrope strains. Maybe an errant hellhound. We've killed one of those already.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She circled Pharos with a bored expression on her face as the tall boy got to his feet. He lunged at her, and she side-stepped it easily. She pushed him back onto the mat.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Firefly!” came a booming, heavily accented voice. Sierra snapped around to meet it. The speaker was tall, broad man with dark skin and a big nose. She sighed. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'm sorry, Instructor Callada.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You must let Cadet Ward practise. Stop beating him before he can try.” The tall islander stood watching them, his huge muscles straining against his uniform. Sierra watched, bored, as Pharos assumed the position.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]They were practising one of the eastern martial arts that Callada preferred to use, but Sierra hardly ever had to actually fight with the techniques. She was faster and stronger than most of the other students and tended to beat them easily.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She smiled wryly, remembering the time she had had to fight one of the strongmen. She had lost that one.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Punch. Kick. Parry. Counter. Block. Turn. Kick. Punch.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It was almost too easy. She could admit that Pharos was good – he was at least of average ability, and if she had to say it she would say he was good – but she was better. He lacked the fire, the passion, that she had for the art. She caught his punch.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ah!” she cried, dropping to her knees as a piercing, high-pitched sound exploded inside her head. Within moments she was pinned to the mat face-down, her arm twisted up her back.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Good, Ward,” said Callada. “A perfect example of how over-confidence and a lack of attention can prove fatal. I expected more from you, Firefly.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The large block of a man stalked away to supervise the other students, and Pharos let go of Sierra.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Not a hellhound,” said Pharos, shrugging. “Not a vampire; too dangerous. Maybe search-and-destroy.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra considered that as she circled Pharos. It was likely. Neither Elle nor her mother wanted the Squads to die, and a search-and-destroy for a client would be the perfect way to gauge a Squad's skills without putting them in too much danger.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She parried Pharos's attack with an almost bored movement and delivered a kick to the boy's back. He fell to the mat.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sierra grinned. She was better than he was, even without her superior strength and speed, and she revelled in the knowledge. She flipped him over. Deep down, Sierra knew that her love of fighting and her skills came from the beasts she hid deep inside, but she did not let it bother her as it once did.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She was better than Pharos Ward, who managed to be brilliant at nearly everything he did, and that gave her a feeling of satisfaction, which deepened as she put him in a headlock.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The lesson is over,” said Callada. Sierra let Pharos go, and smirked at him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I'm just better at it than you are.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yeah, well, we'll see what happens next time we have shooting practise...” muttered Pharos, leaving for the boys' changing rooms with Hayden, who laughed at him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You were beaten by a girl, too,” countered Pharos spitefully, pushing his friend lightly. Hayden shrugged, pulling his things from his bag.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Light streamed in through the window as Siaran pored over the old, dusty tomes given to her by Selene Goldenrose. The clock on his desk told her that it was time for lunch, but Siaran was too engrossed in her reading to care, and Lucian had already been informed that she would be in attendance. She had no reason to leave.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]'Eight pints of the blood of a human',” she read, and frowned. “No, that can't be right... it has to be an error with my translation.” She read on, but stopped when she caught sight of a familiar pattern. It was nearly identical to the large set of circles and pentagrams she had drawn in the cellars, but the information that went along with the diagram did not fit her own knowledge.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That can't be right,” she decided. Ashcroft was not a summoner, and did not have access to the Summoners of the day, as far as Siaran knew. She hoped Mabell would have them sent as soon as possible, but Mabell Callan had never been the most reliable person Siaran had known.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She read on, translating the old, near-dead language as she did so. There was a note at the end of the ritual description that piqued her interest.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sabotage?” she wondered aloud, turning the word over in her mouth. She felt sure she had the right translation, but it made little sense until she read on. She made a satisfied sound.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Summoners from the Lodge infiltrated the operation and sabotaged the summoning.” It made sense, she knew, but what she did not know was why. From what she had been able to discern, the summoning was no as dangerous as many smaller summonings of its type, and Ashcroft's people had come to the same conclusion.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It was a powerful summoning but no more dangerous than other summonings of comparable power. With Selene's gift, finding the Summoners' Lodge had become even more important. It was unlikely that anything had been left there, but on the off-chance that something had been left there, she would seek it out. Her own histories were incomplete, and Mabell had only been able to add the Callan family's books to her library.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It had been a disappointment. Still. The few summoners left in the world had told her what they could, and it was up to her to piece together the rest of it. She knew the most ancient lines and where they had gone – Firefly itself was one of the oldest – but few had kept to the traditions. Even her own family had lapsed, with she being the first summoner in three generations. [/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She turned the pages of the book back to look at the diagram. The problem, she thought, with summoning is that it was impossible to know if a summoning would work until you tried it. Trying either her pattern or Ashcroft's was a bad idea: both required copious amounts of blood and she had no idea what either of them would summon. If either of them would summon.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A single wrong step could cause massive damage, and if a single line had been drawn out of place she could lose her life. It had happened to the first summoner she had met, and it was not a way that Siaran would choose to go. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Far too messy,” she muttered.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Siaran sighed and put down the book. Sierra would be taught the summoner's lore. She did not need the practical ability for that. Siaran had made a vow to Truli the day of her first summoning, and it was one she did not intend to forget.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Firefly would not forget its ancient ways; Siaran considered it her duty. Summoning was in their blood and had been for longer than anyone cared to remember. It would not fade due to her actions, accidental as they might have been.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She would see to it.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Oct 17, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Twelve[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Sierra, shut up,” said Pharos tersely, descending the stairs two at a time. Sierra followed him serenely, tip-toeing her way down the stairs.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I'm just saying that you're not better than I am at shooting, either! I absolutely wiped the floor with you today.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes. I was there.” replied Pharos, leaving through the doors into the grounds. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]You were,” agreed Sierra. She grinned at him, and he sighed. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The two of them walked along, following the rest of their year, toward the greenhouses which comprised Canan Tress's classrooms. They filed into Greenhouse Four, a big, sturdy brick and glass structure slowly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Inside was almost completely devoid of plants, instead being filled with cages and snapping creatures, many of which were heavily sedated. The class came to read before a long, thick table, atop which Canan Tress sat swinging his legs.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]This won't be a practical lesson,” he said, “so don't bother with your gloves. Today we're going to be talking about the difference between a 'deviant' and an 'aberrant'. Does anyone know the difference?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Viktoryia Hansel's hand shot up, and Canan nodded to her.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]A deviant is a creature or being that differs from the norm. Vampires are deviants, hellhounds are not.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Exactly,” said Canan. “We call vampires deviants because they deviate from the norm of being a human.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]But why are we assuming that anything human is normal, and everything not isn't, sir?” asked a girl from either Squad XIX or XX; Pharos could not see which.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]We're not,” said Canan. “I would call the roots you faced in the Gauntlet 'deviants'. 'Xenophytes', I think Instructor Goldenrose calls them. A deviant is a creature or lifeform that was once a member of species x but has become something else via a process we do not yet understand.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]An aberrant would be anything that does not belong here, then?” asked Hayden. Canan inclined his head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes. Aberrants include the hellhounds, who despite the resemblance were never dogs. Compare hellhounds with werewolves.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hayden frowned.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]A book I read recently claims that therianthropy is caused by, ah, micro-organisms that themselves are aberrants which change the host into a deviant. The classification of therianthropes as deviants doesn't show the whole story,” he said, rubbing the back of his shaved head idly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Canan's lips curled into a smile.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I see you've read Tutor Trump's book.” Hayden nodded in reply. “Well. I think she's right. I've not done the science myself, so I can't be sure, but yes, you're right. Classification of monstrosities is hard, and not just because there are so many. Many of them fall into two categories and the lines becomes even more blurred when the deviancy breeds true – as is the case with therianthropes. You've earned your Squad ten points.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Canan paused to mark it down in a leather-bound notebook he took from the pocket of his uniform, and then continued lecturing.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Take the dirtbear, for instance. How can you tell that it's an aberrant rather than a deviant? That, and many other questions, will be what you'll answer this lesson. The questions are over there by the door. Do them and give them to me at the end. If you need me, I'll be in Greenhouse Three.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He hopped off the table and waded through his students, pausing when he got to the door.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Don't touch the freaks,” he said. “They are dangerous and none of you have the weapons required to subdue them. Any student who so much as touches the cage of a creature in this room will be subject to a loss of one hundred points and ten detentions. I'll check back on you in twenty minutes.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The room was dark and more than a little stuffy; the curtains drawn and the fire burning dimly in the hearth. Soft, white light came from a glass sphere set on a table next to the bed. Siaran sat in the large, almost-opulent, bed with an old journal closed over one hand.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Lucian!” said Siaran, poking the sleeping man. “Lucian! Wake up.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Her husband snorted, and rolled over in the bed that she shared with him. She sat up, closing the book, her place marked with a ribbon. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Lucian, I should like it very much if you would wake up this instant and talk with me,” she said imperiously, tapping him with the back of her hand. He snored, and she shoved him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]What?” he said a few moments later, his voice muffled by the sheets and slurred from tiredness.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I think I have figured it out.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Figured what out?” he said, his head still covered by the thick sheets.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The answer to my questions!” said Siaran exasperatedly. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes, dear... what would that be?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The summoning I've been working on! Cross-referencing my own design and Ashcroft's led me to discover that it's not just one summoning, but four smaller summonings designed to contain one large one!”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Oh,” said Lucian. “I see.” The tired man sat up in the bed, his pyjamas ruffled. “Why don't you tell Elle?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I can't,” lamented Siaran, signing theatrically. “Our dear friend Luisa arrived early this morning – unannounced, of course – and Elle will be with her all day.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]That is a problem,” said Lucian, “but perhaps you should come back to bed. It's a free day.” Siaran shot him a scathing look.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Go back to bed? Lucian, honestly, I--” She stopped talking as the true meaning of his words hit her. “Oh. Oh. Well. Yes. I can do that,” she said, setting her book aside and sliding down under the covers.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I'm ever so glad,” whispered Lucian into her ear, “because now I get to do this...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Spyrqueen Luisa V of Kilgaran, High Princess of the Darrian Principalities and High Queen of New Lendis had arrived at the Palace at Blackwood in the early hours of the morning. She had, of course, woken the night watchmen and demanded entry to the school. Elle had been up since before dawn dealing with the problems her cousin's sudden arrival had caused.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She nodded her head to the chambermaid before her, and sighed into her hands when she had left. She was not yet ready to deal with Luisa. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Am I ever?” she murmured, thinking of their childhood. Her Majesty had requested her presence some time ago, but Elle had found reasons to be otherwise occupied. Her cousin was, perhaps, generous for funding as large an operation as Elle was running, which did give her certain rights – that was something Elle agreed with wholeheartedly – but turning up and demanding an audience was not among those Elle counted.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She had called for Alys the moment she became aware of what Luisa wanted, and to the girl's credit she had attended to all of Luisa's requests, no matter how ridiculous some of them were.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle supposed Luisa's visit was a punishment for not sending any Squads to help with the war against the Free Crann State, but that was hardly Elle's fault. Contrary to what Luisa might believe, Elle had not ordered the attack herself. She did not agree with her cousin's expansionism, but she would not fight it on such a plane.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She rose from her seat and, fortifying herself with a draught of wine, she moved through the hallways, down the stairs and past the offices toward the guest suites. Luisa's presence there was deliberate on Elle's part, as the queen would much prefer a set of rather more opulent rooms. Elle had seen to it that she would not get them.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She knocked and waited for someone in Luisa's retinue to open the doors to the apartments. She was admitted by a rather dour-looking woman in a wimple, and told that Luisa would be with her shortly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Her cousin emerged moments later swathed in her official robes, although Elle noted with amusement that she had left out the crown. Luisa sat herself in throne-like chair which Elle was sure was not Blackwood's, and addressed her cousin.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Good morning, Elle.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Good morning, Luisa.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It's been so long since I visited,” said the tall, thin woman, “that I felt a meeting was in order. And an inspection, I think. I should like to see where my money goes.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle nodded, and sat back in her chair. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]That will be fine,” she replied. “I need time to prepare the students and the Operatives, however. I think a day's preparation would suffice.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I agree,” said Luisa, inclining her head gently. “I should like a walk through the school and the grounds.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]You are free to do so,” said Elle. “The only place that is off-limits are the basements. They are—dangerous, and it would not do for our queen to come to harm.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Delightful!” proclaimed Luisa, clapping her hands together like an excited child. “Come, then! I should very much enjoy your company, dear cousin. It has been a long time since you were last at court, and I miss our talks.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle frowned slightly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I have duties to which I must attend... I can hardly desert them for a walk.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Piffle,” said Luisa, waving her hand dismissively. “I am the queen and the sponsor of this facility. I give you leave to walk with me.” Luisa smiled. “See? Now everything is fine! Come, cousin! We have much to discuss.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]This is ridiculous,” said Siaran, striding across the damp, dark cellar in which she summoned. Sierra was sat across from her in a spindly, fragile looking chair.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes, Mother.” she said, her voice echoing off the cold, thick stone walls of the cellars.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She has no right to do this!” she exclaimed, tugging on her hair, which had fallen free from its severe bun.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes, Mother.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]You're not even listening, are you?” said Siaran, frowning. “Honestly, Sierra, how you expect to learn anything from these lessons is beyond me...”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]All you've done for the past half-hour is rant and rave about the queen. I don't want to learn the summoning lore anyway,” replied the short girl, her voice flat.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I'm sorry,” said Siaran, sitting across from Sierra on a sturdier-looking chair. “But you know how important it is for our traditions to be passed on. We almost lost them once.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Then write a book,” said Sierra, shrugging. “I can never use the lore for any practical purpose. I am not a summoner,” she said bitterly. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I am aware,” replied Siaran, “but that is no reason to reject your heritage.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Fine, Mother. What do you do with the crushed roses after soaking them in blood?” said Sierra, her voice as flat and bored as before.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]They have to be dried, of course,” said Siaran, “but then all that needs to be done is keeping them in a dry, cool place until the time of the summoning.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Both Fireflys stopped talking as they heard the tap, tap, tap of boots against the stone floor. Elle marched forward, her hair flyaway and her face red. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]That woman!” she said, gesticulating wildly. “I can't even begin to explain how infuriating she is!”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Leave us, Sierra,” said Siaran.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Gladly,” muttered Sierra, leaving the cold, damp cellar quickly. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]An inspection!”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Of what? Our teaching? The students? The Operatives?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]All of it,” said Elle, calming down and sitting where Sierra had been sat just moments before. “She simply isn't qualified to perform a proper inspection, of course, but we must pander to her whims and desires.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Why did she just arrive without notification? Has she said?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]No,” spat Elle, “Although she is within her rights, technically, to visit without prior notification...”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I thought she had stopped her meddling,” said Siaran, grimacing.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She never stops scheming. She has always been like this – surely you remember.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I do.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The likeliest explanation is that she has an ulterior motive for visiting. I do not know what. I see little for her to gain from this.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]We will watch her,” said Siaran. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes,” agreed Elle. “But for now, we must make the preparations for the inspection tomorrow. I have tasked Alys with readying the students. I will tackle the Operatives, and you must take the staff.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Siaran nodded. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Now, I wanted to talk to you about my summoning... Lady Ashcroft once tried the same summoning as I have in the other chamber. I know more about it now than I did when we last discussed it... There are four summoning circles arranged around a central circle! Four summonings designed to contain a fifth.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Tell me whilst we prepare for the inspection?” said Elle, extending her hand to Siaran, who smiled.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Nov 23, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

Um. Yeah. This is probably one of the worse chapters and I'm sorry. I just had to get it out. It took long enough anyway.[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]
[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]
Thirteen[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Rows and rows of black-uniformed students stood straight and still, arranged on either side of the long driveway leading to the school. A make-shift stage had been set up in front of the entrance into the grand old building.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The staff were seated atop the stage with Elle and Siaran sat at the centre. A slow and stately procession moved along the stretch of gravel with the queen at its head. She stopped and looked at each squad or group of students individually before moving on, conversing briefly with a few and looking at others with a steel gaze.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle watched it all with a bored expression. Her cousin's technique was all wrong, she thought absently – a quick glance at Selen Goldenrose confirmed her suspicions – but with luck it would be over without a speech from Her Majesty. She snorted. She was not a hopeless optimist but a realist as well; Luisa would orate and it would be a painful experience for everyone involved.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle had already made a speech of her own, introducing her cousin as a 'key partner' and an 'integral member' of the 'Blackwood Family'. It had been as painless as she could have made it, and she knew that Luisa would not be as courteous. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She groaned inwardly as Luisa's ceremonial band marched behind her sounding Reign Deora, Queen of Heaven. She had scoffed at the religious song when Luisa had chosen it for her personal anthem, and she scoffed at it as she heard it played. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The song reached its climax as Luisa ascended the steps to the make-shift stage. She made her way to the podium, her image regal and refined. Elle had to admit that, whatever her faults, Luisa was good at the pomp and ceremony required of a queen.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]My subjects! My people! My students!” she began, and inwardly, Elle groaned. “I come to you today proud. Proud of our great nation, proud of Director Kilgaran's great work but most of all proud of you. You are the blood of our nation and its future lies with you.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The work of Director Kilgaran is important. You are important. The Blackwood mission statement is important.” Luisa paused, and Elle took this time to drift away from the speech.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle blocked the words out. She knew what the speech would say. It would be full of grand thoughts about the future of her organisation, about funding and about how proud Luisa was of her work. It was vacuous nonsense, as far as Elle was concerned; Luisa cared only about the private army she would gain from the exercise. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She caught Siaran's eye. The other woman was watching Luisa speak, her face expressionless. For the brief moment their eyes met, she smiled.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I believe in the Blackwood Organisation. I believe in your mission. I believe in your Director. It pains me that I must do this, but do this I must.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle sat up in her seat, listening to Luisa for the first time. Nothing she had planned could be good for anyone at the Academy.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]My task here is two-fold. First, I came to inspect you, the fruits of our labour. You have exceeded my expectations. What I have found here is truly sensational, and I only wish the nature of our work were not secret so that I could sing your praises to the entire world. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The second reason for my visit is, I will admit, a more personal concern. There will be a confirmation ceremony marking the selection of my heir in the coming weeks, and it would be remiss of me to neglect to invite the heir herself. Thus I have come here to invite my dear cousin, your Director, to come and take her true place at court – as my heir!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle sat, dumbfounded, after Luisa made her grand announcement. She had no right to decide such a thing without her consent! None at all. She clenched her fist and stood, walking gracefully toward the podium. Luisa graciously moved away.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It is with deepest regret that I must leave you all. I am fiercely proud of each and every one of you, and time spent away will be as a wound in my chest. You may now go.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Luisa's band sounded the retreat, and Elle grimaced. She would have to meet with the Operatives and make all sorts of preparations solely to deal with her cousin's utter arrogance in assuming that she wanted and welcomed her ascension to Crown Princess. She had been content with being Princess Royal.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She brushed Luisa off after the speeches were done and stole away with Siaran Firefly to prepare for the weeks ahead.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Siaran found herself almost able to ignore Lucian's ranting. Almost. After a long, hard day of political dancing with Her Majesty she had retired to her rooms, seeking solace in her husband. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She moved her hand across her husband's chest, drawing in his scent lazily. She looked up at him, briefly, and smiled.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]What?” said Lucian, catching her looking up at him, breaking his rant mid-sentence.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Nothing,” she said, returning to her thoughts in order to get through her husband's tirade without issue. She managed it well, thinking about the past and the first time she met the young, rebellious Lucian Callan – and his sister, the rather eccentric Mabell. They had met during Siaran and Elle's travels, searching for other summoners. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She found summoners, but she found love, too. It was—strange, she thought, that she had ultimately failed in her quest to rebuild the summoners' society. Stranger still that she did not care. She had made many mistakes in her life, but Lucian Callan had never been counted among them.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She opened her mouth to say as much to her husband who, she thought, indulgently, was still talking. She stopped abruptly when she heard her daughter's name.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]What? Sierra? What does she have to do with anything?” she asked, sitting up in the bed. Lucian had been expounding on the evils of recklessness or somesuch thing since she had returned to their chambers, but she had paid it little attention. Their daughter was often careless, but the last thing she had done that could be described “reckless” was incapacitate a hellhound. She still swelled with pride when she thought of it.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]No, not Sierra.” said Lucian, “You.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Siaran sat back, aghast. She had not done anything needlessly reckless in many years – a sign of a misspent youth, surely – and yet he could not be referencing what she thought he was referencing. It had been agreed upon.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]And what have I done?” she said, her face calm and cool, with all the fluidity and motion of a stone. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]You know, Siaran.” His face strained, and his voice appeared close to cracking. Siaran found herself unable to care. “The results were—worrying. Are worrying. You know... you know what she lost. What we lost.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I know more than you will ever know,” she snapped, sneering at him. Of course she had lost more than he had. She had lost more than he could know, would know—cared to know. “Get out.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]What?” he said, mouth open, confusion across his face. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Leave my bed. You are no longer welcome here.” She could sense his confusion. It was apparent, all across his face. It was expected, too; she had never exiled him from their bed. Her bed, she corrected. She waited, her piercing eyes levelled at him coldly. Understanding dawned, finally, and her husband stalked out of the room angrily. The door slammed shut behind him.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Siaran let out a breath she was unaware she had been holding. She swallowed hard, and fell into her hands, sobbing.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It had gone well. She could be grateful of that, at least. She drank from the delicate glass, savouring the almost-spicy scent of the Dasaani concoction. The school would receive more funding than before; she could finally set up a dedicated research department. Luisa had grown bored with the facility even in such a short time, which would only bode well.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]What Elle did not appreciate was being told to pack up and leave her home. She smiled. Her home. Yes. The Academy was home, more than her estate—her daughter's estate, she amended—outside of Spyr. Princess Elle indeed.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She did not wish to ascend to the throne. She had not received adequate training for the position of Spyrqueen. Sense would dictate that Elle's daughter be chosen, but Luisa had lacked anything resembling sense for a long time. Even as children, Elle had been filled with a cool, quiet pragmatism whereas Luisa was full of grand ideas and gestures.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She stared into the fireplace, watching the dancing flames, hearing the familiar crackling of the logs. Coal was too expensive – especially given the Academy's position in a forest – and Elle preferred the smell of wood smoke over coal. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She sat back in her chair, sinking into the soft, over-stuffed fabric slowly. She sighed. The ceremonies marking her as Luisa's formal heir rather than Heir by Blood Right would be over soon. She would not pretend to know the reasons behind her cousin's urgency but she did not care so long as she could return to her work. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle dozed for a while, eyes half-lidded and heavy, watching the fire. She slept there, in her private retiring room, until the fire died. She woke from the cold and got to her feet unsteadily, heading for the door. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She strode to her rooms, moving through the familiar corridors with ease. From the corner of her eye she saw Pharos Ward stood on a balcony over-looking the gardens. Intrigued, she veered off course to join him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Cadet Ward,” she said, the cool night air hitting her face. She wobbled momentarily but regained her footing with a hand placed on the cool marble railing. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Director Kilgaran,” he said, nodding his head. “Your Highness.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Elle bit her lip. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Director is fine,” she said coolly. He nodded in reply. “Might I ask why you're here, now?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Not thinking,” he said simply. Elle cocked her head slightly. Ward was one of the more powerful psions at the school – a family trait, rather than a Blackwood-induced skill like some of the more exotic abilities – and it was likely his abilities that had bothered him.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Do you need help with controlling your abilities?” she asked, searching for a sign that he was straining. Despite her cool exterior, she cared about each and every one of her students.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]No, thank you, Director. I, ah—practised too much.” Elle regarded him. He looked uncomfortable, which was unsurprising, given the circumstances. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]If you ever need additional tuition please, don't hesitate to ask.” She meant it. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Thank you.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I'll leave you to your not-thinking, Cadet Ward. Get some sleep.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Director,” he said, nodding to her again. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She left him, alone on the balcony, and retired to her rooms. Ward had been an enigma from the moment he had entered the school. His interactions with Sierra Firefly and the others of his Squad were what convinced her of Siaran's choice of Squadmembers. She would need to watch him; a more suitable replacement for Zess was unlikely to be found somewhere else.[/FONT]

Harlequin · Nov 23, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

For some reason tCoD doesn't think that I've updated this. So, uh. Take some bumpage.

Harlequin · Nov 28, 2009

Re: Blackwood Manor: Firefly's Folly

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Fourteen[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Pharos turned to watch Director Kilgaran leave. The beating in his head gradually dimmed as she left, and he turned back to look over the grounds. The gardens at Blackwood had always been rumoured to rival even those of the Galasoy Botanical Gardens in Spyr, and Pharos could well believe it – even after the Director's changes. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Before she had come to speak with him he had been there for hours, but he wondered what she had been doing awake. And slightly drunk, he thought, if her movements were anything to go by.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He had heard the rumours, of course. Nobody who had ears could miss them, but he had never believed them. The Director simply did not behave as if she were an alcoholic, and even if she were, it clearly had no impact on her job. He massaged his temple idly, drawing his psionic senses inwards, forcing them to stop seeking minds with which to link.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He lifted his head skyward, searching for the familiar constellations, using Cayus, the North Star, to orient himself. He found Camla, the Hunter, and across from that was Eva, the Star Maiden—the cluster of stars Sierra called Uua. The smog was such in Spyr that unless one lived in a tall building or on the outskirts of the city the stars were obscured at night. Such was the cost of progress, acknowledged Pharos, chewing his lower lip.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He far preferred Blackwood – even with its abundance of freaks and xenophytes of all kinds – to the family home in Spyr, and even more than the summer estate in the south of the country. The nights in the far south of Spyr Darr were too cold, and the city of Spyr was smog-filled and unpleasant.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He leaned forward and drew in the quiet night air. He had sought refuge in the quiet places at night six times in the past month, in search of a place where his head no longer hurt. Whenever he was around anyone with any kind of paranormal skill he developed a headache, and he had little idea how to stop it; nor did the Director, he thought, for all that she had offered to help. With a look to the east he sighed. It would be dawn soon, and he had yet to sleep due to the incessant and ever-louder beating in his head.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He had checked with Rawlins whether she had suffered the same thing, but of course she had not – his assumption was that it was to do with the way the abilities had been found in his line. It was a problem he would have to solve alone. Perhaps if Lady Ward, his mother, was away during the summer he could read the books written by his ancestors, long ago, when the psionics first emerged one of his blood. Or perhaps not, if he could fix it sooner.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He took one last look out at the sky, looking up at the moon's fading light in the face of the dawn. He walked silently back to Apartment 6 and passed no one on his way. He let himself in quietly, not bothering to fill the light-sphere, and crossed the small communal area toward the room he shared with Hayden. He took care when closing the door so as not to wake either Hayden or the girls.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He undressed quickly and sank into his bed, glad that it was his and not Hayden's that was closest to the door. Silently, he stared up at the ceiling, unable to even think over the constant beating in his head.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Sierra breathed in deeply and slowing, moving her arms in a graceful arc. Her leg followed, slowly, as she danced an ancient dance. She copied her mother's actions closely, drawing on years of training to do so.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She felt utterly ridiculous in the traditional summoning robes – things that were far too constrictive for any fighting – and she was cold, a bit wet and more than a little tired. She grit her teeth and performed the steps of the dance anyway, her moves graceful and cat-like.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It's not working,” she said, throwing her arms up into the air. “I can't do it.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]You're doing brilliantly,” said Siaran, not missing a step in her own dance. “Feel the Call, Sierra,” she said, tossing her long, wild blonde hair back. Sierra sighed, taking up her part in the dance once more.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Mother, I don't feel it,” she said, twirling elegantly, her skirts spinning about her legs. In contrast to Siaran, whose face was red with excitement and her hair wild and free, Sierra's face was cool and collected, her hair tightly drawn up into a high bun atop her head.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It's there inside you, deeper than, perhaps, you have reached,” she said, whirling and tiptoeing over and around the patterns. “It feels like freedom, unbinding, unending liberty; it is the Call.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Sierra frowned, almost missing a step in the dance, reaching deeper and deeper into herself. She felt only the burning, searing, powerful rage that she had always felt. She drew away from it quickly, floundering only momentarily. She danced with none of the wild abandon of her mother, but with a more careful, measured dance that belied the primal animalism of her graceful movements.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She moved as a force of nature: present, confident and not at all out of place. Impossibly fluid movements came easily to her, and yet the Call had never been harder to reach. It angered her, her inability to touch that most fundamental aspect of her being, a feeling that she had felt before; long ago, even, than the foul pit of blackness that had existed within her for almost as long as she could remember.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She knew that the ease with which she moved was unnatural, even as her strength and speed were, but she revelled in the unbridled fluidity of her motion. She reached deeper into herself, deeper than she had ever dared go before, plunging herself through the mire and the muck. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]She straightened, suddenly, and screamed hard. Her high-pitched caterwaul deepened into a growl. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Siaran stopped dancing, her garish maroon and pale-yellow skirts falling still about her legs. Her beads and trinkets settled, and she brushed the hair from her face. With an almost strangled cry she crossed the floor toward Sierra.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Breathe,” she said, taking Sierra into her arms and lowering her to the floor. “That was certainly not the Call,” she muttered, stroking Sierra's hair. It took several moments, but Sierra calmed down eventually, resting against her mother.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It happened,” said Sierra softly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I know,” whispered Siaran. “I'm sorry, we'll—we will try something else.” Sierra nodded, her breathing still quick and shallow. Siaran let her go and turned to check the pattern over which Sierra had been dancing.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The pattern is correct,” she muttered, checking to see if the circles lined up with the triangles in the appropriate manner. “Your dancing is exquisite, if a little restrained. I don't understand what happened...”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I know what happened,” said Sierra, staring at the spot darkly. “I can't summon and you know that. You know why.” Siaran ignored her, muttering about pattern syzygy. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Sierra rolled her eyes. It had always been her mother's way to ignore those aspects of Sierra which she did not like, even those which were Siaran's fault. She took a long, deep breath as she watched her mother inspect the patterns she herself had drawn on the ground. Sierra largely ignored her, preferring to focus more on keeping control over herself.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Siaran put a hand to her hip and looked at the patterns thoughtfully. She turned and left the cold, damp room and into a smaller side-chamber. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Come with me, Sierra,” she called, and Sierra followed her, feet dragging against the ground. She kicked a stool out of her way and smiled when it burst into pieces against the wall. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]For nearly an hour after that, Sierra drew pattern after pattern on pieces of paper only to be told that each one was incorrect in some tiny, specific way. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Start again,” said Siaran, peering at her daughter's latest attempt. Sierra stared at her, mouth wide open. To her own eyes the pattern was identical to the one which her mother had given her. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It's exactly the same as the one you gave me!” argued Sierra, slamming the pencil down onto the table, which crumpled under her strength. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]It is not,” said Siaran, glowering at the broken table. “Control yourself,” she snapped.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I hate this,” said Sierra. “I hate being around this—you and your summoning. The dances. Every time I try to hear the Call it ends up the same,” she said, getting to her feet. “I'm sick of it.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]With a red face and a shaking, almost-uncontrolled rage, Sierra stormed out of the room as fast as she could.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]With an errant hand-wave, a host of small, vibrating creatures blinked into existence around Siaran. They set about cleaning the room as she sank back into Sierra's now-empty chair, head in her hands.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]I'm sorry,” she said, sobbing.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]*[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hayden skimmed Anabel Trump's book, ignoring the sections that held no interest for him, and rolled his eyes at the untidy, scrawled notes all of the pages. 'Nips like a puppy, hurts like a bitch' was written underneath a detailed picture of a tropical canine freak. He turned the page, looking at the strategy section. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Careful,” snapped Headmistress Firefly, striding out of the locked rooms off the main library. In front of her was a squat, serpentine creature with thick arms and no head. It carried a box above where its head would have otherwise been and followed after the Headmistress dutifully.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The creature seemed to take no notice of her words and merely slithered along after her, the box held steady in its arms, but she continued to snap at it anyway. [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hayden regarded it carefully. The Headmistress had taken to summoning small creatures to help her do things rather than commandeer students or support staff, but he had never seen her so angry at one. He frowned. His reading about the ancient Summoners was nowhere near as complete or detailed as her own, but all his reading said that anger was a bad thing.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He shrugged. It was unlikely to matter, given that it was simply carrying a wooden box of some sort. A box that the Headmistress could have carried herself, even, if it had come to that. He returned to Trump's book, skipping the tropical xenocanines to the Blackwood hellhound.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Habitual day,” said a soft, deep voice to his left. Hayden turned at the traditional Tashraqi greeting—an unusual day often led to financial ruin—and grinned.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hadrian!” he said, “Habitual day!” [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]The thin, rakish boy sat opposite Hayden, his large and expressive brown eyes falling on the book.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]What's that?” he said in Tashraqi, nodding to the book.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]A book from our Tutor,” replied Hayden, closing it and drawing it closer. “What brings you to the library?” Hadrian wrinkled his nose.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]You, of course,” he said, shrugging. “I only come here to find you, you know that.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yes,” said Hayden, smiling. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Well,” said the other boy, waving a hand dismissively, “in a few weeks it's time for the Remembrance and we need to know if you're coming.” Hayden studied the other boy's expression. Of course, he was expected to attend, but whether or not he would was always up to debate amongst the other students from Tashraq; his family was not known for adherence to the old ways. He nodded, slowly.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Weeks? Try months, Hadrian,” said Hayden. Hadrian shrugged and waved his hand again. Hayden grinned again. “Yes. I'll be there.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Brilliant,” said Hadrian, grinning widely. “We're allowed off-site this year! Jalomel—the girl in town, yes?—will meet us, and then we have three days for the feast and celebration.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Who's going?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Oh, you know,” said Hadrian, waving his hand about. “The usual. Dar, probably. Banno. A boy from fifth year and two from fourth. One of the Operatives is Tashraqi and I think he's coming. Serap.” He paused. “Atellis,” he added, frowning.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Inwardly, Hayden laughed. Serap Atellis was a sixth year girl in Squad XX whose mother was Tashraqi but whose father was Darrian. She had never been highly thought of by most of the other Tashraqi students, but Hayden had never seen a problem with her. He nodded.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Henshak?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. A plant found growing on the Hensk Plateau, used widely in Tashraq during most celebrations, and especially during Remembrance. Hadrian laughed, slapping his thigh.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Of course! It's Remembrance, not Grounding.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]But last year—” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]That was last year,” interrupted Hadrian, rolling his eyes. “Jalomel has everything ready.” He paused. “Well. It will be ready,” he added. “Her uncle is hosting us in his house.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Are we actually allowed off-site this year or are you chasing grifts again?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]No, no, we're allowed. Now we have a place in town—and Jalomel's cousin's husband works here, so the Director knows the family.” [/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hayden stared.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]In the stables,” said Hadrian, shrugging. “Look, it doesn't matter. I can prove it to you letter. But you're coming?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Said I was.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Yeah, well, you don't always. Remember third year?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hayden rolled his eyes. [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Of course I do – I wasn't invited.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Not this again!” said the other boy, sighing. “Who cares. You're coming this year. Want to come swimming, now? Dar's meeting for at the pool soon, and Graham said the Queen is gone from there so we can use it again.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]He glanced at the book and then at Hadrian's expectant brown eyes. He rubbed the back of his shaved head slowly, and shrugged.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Okay, let's go. But let's stay away from the Queen or any of the teachers – they might ask us to help Her Majesty's retinue prepare for her to go!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Hayden gathered his things into his bag and left with Hadrian, beaming. Something that none of his Squad had ever understood was his connection and friendship with the others from Tashraq. He supposed it had to do with being so far away from home, whereas most of the other students could find someone they knew amongst the general student body—especially those from the Darrian aristocracy, where everyone knew everyone else.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]What's wrong?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Nothing,” said Hayden, shrugging. “I bet I can beat you in a race.” [/FONT]

“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]You're on,” said the other boy, squeezing his shoulder. [/FONT]

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