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One may see how this world goes with no eyes. Hawke walked through the seedy streets of Lowtown, making her way back to her home. The dusk painted the parchment-coloured walls rich reds and golds, and by the time they reached her mansion, the noble stones would be swathed in blue-black night.
Isabela walked at Hawke's right, her long fingers nestling Hawke's elbow, as was her custom. Hawke looked to her lover with a half-grin. Her body was made for sin, from her face, tanned red and bathed in redder light, her arms strong with a life spent pulling herself back to her feet, her legs well-formed and powerful from her favourite pursuits.
Her eyes, too, caught the light, and Hawke's deep blue eyes were drawn to the other woman's gold. There was more to those eyes than what appeared in them readily. More than their beauty, their twinkling mischief, and even the way they misted when her smile was too happy.
Yet they weren't the eyes Hawke really wanted. Hawke had memorized a face that would never look at her with the adorati
Nothing untowardEvelyn set down the cloth she had been using to polish her name plate. She looked at the desk ornament again with pride, feeling the weight of the duty her title set on her strong shoulders.
Evelyn Fallon Chief of Police
She sat down at her desk, straightening the burnt orange epaulets on her shoulders. She deposited the cloth in her chest of drawers and fetched a pen and stationary emblazoned with the NYPD insignia at the header.
"To Sen. Kirk Orson-"
A soft knock at the door roused her from her train of thought. Through the frosted glass with her name painted on, Evelyn saw an outline that brought a little half-smile to the corner of her mouth.
"Come in, Donna," she said in a businesslike tone, her thick Southie Boston accent belying without a doubt that she was not from the metropolis she proudly served.
Donna opened the door slowly, and walked in with her cap under one arm. Though her posture was perfect, almost military, her smile was mischievous.
Evelyn looked into Donna's
Dr. Chakwas and Commander Shepard RomanceDr. Chakwas finished bandaging Shepard's arm, her skillful fingers and light touch avoiding causing undue pain. She peeled off her gloves and threw them away.
"You're lucky, commander," Chakwas said with a hint of reprimand. "The shot passed clean through the arm. Shouldn't be any permanent damage. It might not even scar."
She turned back to the cot and typed a simple command into the robotic scanning wand, which made a pass over the bed, disinfecting the area.
"Do you need anything else, commander?"
Shepard looked away, a thousand thoughts running through her mind. She took a deep, steadying breath that shuddered at the end with a subtle sob. Shepard ignored the tears that sat around her middle. They wouldn't reach her eyes, but they tinged her voice as she spoke to the aged doctor.
"Maybe I do, Doc," she said, her eyes trained on the wall.
Chakwas heard the uncharacteristic uncertainty in Shepard's voice. She walked over to Shepard's right, and laid a gentle hand on Shepar
The MessageBefore the escape
In preparation for that night’s activities, Mike locked himself in his lab and sat down at his desk. He adjusted the collar of his lab coat and surreptitiously triggered the remote he’d sewn into the collar. It sent out a burst signal that activated devices attached to the cameras in the lab. Anybody watching the cameras would see him at his bench, working on MIMIC.
Mike rubbed his eyes a few times and then ran his hands down his face to scratch his beard. He’d been planning this for much longer than he’d told Julius because he knew Julius would not be able to keep the plan secret for more than a day or two. So he’d had time to come to grips with the fact that he’d most likely be dead before the day was through. But, he consoled himself with the fact that his contributions to the world would live on in MIMIC.
He turned on the camera that sat next to his computer, straightened his hair, and then hit Record.
A Sympathetic Harmony"Let go of her!" a voice demanded, and the girl, pinned against the wall by a burly, stupid looking man, spit blood on to the tunnel floor.
"Ah was just gettin' started," the stupid man said. She smiled at him through bloody teeth.
"Put her down, oaf," the other man demanded. "Anses will kill you if she can't play."
"He'd do more than that," the girl said. "He'd flay your skin one strip at a time and piss on the pulp, lie he did to the Ghost Regent Reksos."
The oaf grunted and let her go. She stumbled forward and caught herself on the opposite wall. She licked blood off her teeth, and she started singing.
"Can't help him now, can't save his face, can only breathe in for one more taste." The oaf stared at her intensely. "Can't help him now, no, he's a little too late, kept up the facade, but this was fucking fate." The oaf was frozen when she stopped. She lifted her arms and he mimicked her stiffly. "Can't help him now," she muttered, and twisted her hands. The oaf fell to the ground.
Into the End So, this was what a straitjacket felt like. It’d been something he’d thought about once in a while; simple curiosity after seeing it in a movie or reading about it in a book. Not too comfortable. What’d he done to deserve this? His mind erased itself each time he tried too hard to remember. Surely it was something huge; Evan didn’t even know they used those anymore.
Two pairs of hands, both stronger than his will to flee, forced him down a dim white corridor. “Everything’s going to be okay, buddy,” he heard a man’s voice behind him. “You’re gonna’ be just fine.”
Idiotic banter. What the hell did he know about Evan? Nothing. Nobody understood his plight and the struggles he suffered through. No one ever noticed the bruises, the burns or the cuts. Misguided. Views of people who didn’t care enough to look deeper. Maybe he should so
FFM 2014: Anything is Possible“We’re heroes now,” Caitlin laughs, flopping down onto the grass.
Summer has finally arrived, and they are becoming something larger than themselves.
There’ll be no flapping capes, no masks, this isn’t a comic book. But there out to be a reason for their powers, and with no answers forthcoming they’re happy enough to make one for themselves.
“Heroes,” He whispers, and the world’s a little brighter for the thought.
“I am not myself,” Jason says, flattening his hand against the glass.
“No, you aren’t,” says the First, his other self.
“But I am,” says Five.
“And we are,” Fourteen concurs.
Madness was his first thought, but the reality is much worse. One self for every death. If only he’d known this would be the final cost.
“Get out,” He begs them, but it’s too late for that now.
“We were supposed to fix the world,”
What if: the unicorn was real?What if the unicorn was real?
Let us first figure out which unicorn we are talking about. There is the Kirin (or the Quilin) from the Far East – a strange creature, looking like a dragon or a chimera than a unicorn. There are the karkadann, the al-miraj, the shadhavar, even the sirrush of Middle East – all dangerous, unpredictable creatures, all armed with a single horn. There was the sea unicorn (also called the campuchurch). And then there is the unicorn of Europe – the white horse-like creature with a single horn, a beard, cloven hooves, and a gentle (at least towards virgins) disposition, a wondrous yet imaginary creature.
The unicorn was a mythical beast that could be found only in the realm of imagination... and it had dwelled there since the antique times, as it was the ancient Greeks, who introduced the unicorn to the West in their natural history works. Fair enough. But if the unicorn was real, what it would be like?
The European unicorn lived in the forests
The ThreeThe Third let out a sad sigh as she stared down at the vast expanse that was their project, her ethereal figure slouching in a manner unfitting for such an elegant being. It had hurt every time she had to watch an aeon of evolution destroyed, but this time it was different; this was by far her favourite aeon.
She found the humans fascinating, the intelligence they showed right from the early Neanderthal era was intriguing. They had an uncanny ability to adapt to their ever changing surroundings, no matter how harsh, which she accounted to their fierce survival instincts; even to a superior being such as herself, it was inspiring.
This made knowing the human race's end was almost upon them all the harder to swallow. She had been sure that this woman had been the one, the one that could turn the tide and put an end to his relentless pursuit of revenge.
Even without knowing what she was fighting, she came so close to achieving the impossible. If only she’d had the support, th
FFM 29: The Beginning of the End< 07-08-3108 0800:00PST // Executing Scheduled Archive Process… >
< 07-08-3108 0800:00PST // Recovering Video Logs… >
< 07-08-3108 0800:00PST // Data Loss Detected… Reviewing Saved Data… >
< 05-21-3108 0614:27PST >
Ahem. Herbert Marshall, ID number 107a, logging on. Personal log entry one. Day one of the Cauffield Experiment, sixty days remaining until I get to see sunlight again. It’s for the best, of course: if the Virus were to reach the surface… well, I don--it can’t.
< Data Loss >
--brought Nanashi with me, though. I set up her litter box in the bathroom of my quarters, and brought lots of treats. I think she’ll adjust fine--
< Data Loss >
< 05-27-3108 0601:12PST >
Day seven of the Cauffield Experiment, and already great progress. First few days were rough, but the old boys club is starting to recognize that I’m not “just a jack-ass out of college.” The o
Too Tired to Care In the hall, things lost their ominous aura, whether from the light in the living room or the realization that she’d totally gotten off the hook—something which rarely occurred. Sindri sauntered into the living room to see a limp body collapsed against the dining table, its back and chest methodically rising and falling.
“Geez,” she mumbled. “How the hell can you fall asleep through all that?” Her finger stabbed into the flesh of his back. He didn’t budge. She swept past Evan’s makeshift bed to the actual mattress. She buried her fingers in the soft fabrics of the outer blanket and drew it down. “What do you think I am?” she said, not truly concerned if he heard her. “Your personal pack mule?”
Sindri moved back to him and carefully pulled his head off of the table. When he refused to respond, she sighed, scooped her hands under his armpits and began to drag. The furniture g
The WurmThe Arena...
It was the one place where the words of a child would be respected as that of an adult: where age didn’t matter, and your decisions were your own.
Nothing more than an open space in the middle of the market square, it had always had a name too grand for its appearance. But it was where battles were fought, debts were paid. and grievances settled - with the price of blood.
Which made it the one place… the only place… where he could get his revenge.
Now as he stood amongst the crowd, watching the final match before his own, plotting and visualizing the many ways he was going to butcher the bastard… a strange calm settled over his mind.
He took a step forward, making his way through the throng of people surrounding the ring...
His eyes intently focused on the goal before him, he pushed aside those who stood in his path, and squeezed between others unaware of his wrath.
Dr. Chakwas and Commander Shepard - ScarsShepard sighed contentedly, nudging Chakwas' shoulder with her nose. In response to the nuzzle, Dr. Chakwas flipped onto her side. She caressed Shepard's face, her thumb gently stroking the younger woman's cheek.
She leaned close, her hot breath sending Shepard into shivers as Chakwas slowly planted a soft peck on her lips.
Shepard kissed her more deeply, with sweet, lingering kisses. They were gentle kisses, good morning kisses.
"Hello," murmured Dr. Chakwas with a wry smile.
She fixed a tender kiss on the tip of Shepard's nose. Shepard made a little sigh and flopped on her back. Chakwas eased her torso over Shepard's, her left hand brushing the stray hair from Shepard's face, her right stroking Shepard's arm.
"Thanks, Chakwas," Shepard muttered.
"Of course," Chakwas said in a soft, chuckling voice. She gave Shepard another light kiss. "I've wanted to be with you for years."
A look of consternation crossed Shepard's face.
"The scars didn't faze you?"
The old doctor appeared confused.
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