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Sorry for terrible quality - This is air, if humans were borne to evolve as bird hybrids instead @drawing-prompt-s

The base of all life on our earth is water. Draw a lifeform with a base of earth, fire, or air.

I've been sitting on this prompt for a while and haven't really done anything, but I needed a break from homework and such so here he is. Horus God of the skies in some Adidas streetwear

Draw an ancient Egyptian god/goddess as a fashionable person living in 2017

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-Write about the NSA agent watching this blog and my search history (I’m currently writing about psychological torture for an advice post) because let’s be real, there probably is one (hi!)

-”What if we’ve got the wrong idea. Prophecies, are tricky, you know.” says the oracle “There’s not any reason why we aren’t what we’re trying to stop.”

-”Dear- dear, open your eyes. It’s safe now. It’s all safe- we’re safe. I’ve killed the bad things, so please just. Open your eyes.”

“Don’t cry my love- it distracts from the beauty of your eyes.”

Reblog this post with an out of context quote from your OC

chapter two of ages of earth

She had been traveling for weeks. Too long. Only one son had decided to go with her, the eldest, insisting on helping the middle-aged woman with heavy lifting and of the sort. She was glad to have his help, even though she had been doing this trip for over thirty years and could full-well handle it.

The sounds of the city of Alfone were nothing like her dirt-town of Fumbauni. Temple bells rung, city-goers talked and bargained and children screamed with delight in the distance. Oxen grunted, cartwheels rattled and a whistling breeze blew hats off. It smelt of fire and soot and yet mixed aromas of flowers, chrysanthemums and peonies and daisies, and the heavy summer air weighed upon each passing cart and donkey and person. She edged their mule just a bit further, darting out in front of a young Karuban woman selling tinker toys.

The ancient stone buildings emanated heat, dark stones of onyx creating a sort of vortex around it. The stone was for all the fires, she thought. The city of Alfone loved their fires, whether it be for festivals or parades or simply just because it was how they did things. The current Empress Alexia insisted on keeping the old traditions, even though she was not of the royal line nor did she have any Siamo blood in her. But the previous Empress, Vitswèth the Vehement and her lover, had been the Spirit of Fire and so the fire had to stay in remembrance. They rarely used fire back in Fumbauni. It drew too much attention to them, and the last thing they wanted was attention.

She stopped just outside her usual spot. They had already set up her booth, their friends in the city, and so she jumped off the cart and called her son over. "Niv, come. Now, this isn't your first time setting up but I have to say a few important rules."

Niv smiled under her dark gaze and patted the oaken cart. "Yeah, I know. Freshest meat in the front, oldest in the back. Categorize by type, weight, and color. Brightest colors on top. Got it, I know, Ma. Now go on to do your business, I told you I would do this for you."

There was one other reason they'd returned to Alfone. Other than to sell their meats, hunted by their village and their main form of income, this mother had been called upon (as the village HeadHunter) to meet with the Empress. And one did not refuse this offer. It was considered a charity for the Empress to even look at a citizen, and as such usually wore a veil over the eyes. It was the tradition. A stupid tradition.

"Set up and be careful. Anything happens, you know where I am." Tir, the mother and HeadHunter, stepped back. A callused hand scruffed the nose of their mule.

"Yes, Ma. Be safe."

She left her son to do her heavy lifting. As she stumbled around the streets, narrow and cobble-paved, she wished she didn't have a metal leg. The stones made it extremely hard to walk, and more than she wished to admit she tripped over her own feet (foot) and almost fell to the ground.

The royal castle could be seen from all around. It rose above every other building like a monument, a per-se "North Star", and glowed with its white alabaster stone. The Ancient Fire gleamed at the highest precipice, burning still with its holy power. The spiral towers caused the entire castle to look like a spaceship, about to blast off into the sky. The main tower was bigger than all the rest, more upkept and washed on the outside and beholding a thousand banners of Alexia, a big white tree with a green background. It was the puruk, the tree was called, and it was a symbol of peace and purity. It was also where Alexia was found as a young girl, underneath the puruk, and brought in by Vitswèth and her house.

To say Tir disliked the city it would be an understatement. It had an air of 'I don't like you' about it, and much of the population did, in fact, hate outsiders. They protested in the middle of the week on protest day and Tir always made sure to be gone by then. Surely she, as a Tenura of the earth, would be sworn at and hurt. No earth Tenura ever came into Alfone anymore. They were hated by all for reasons that were beyond Tir. Only those of the race of the Siamo really lived in Alfone, and all others dwelled around the cities outskirts. The Umaleria and Karubo mainly filled the working class, and only rarely was a Cōrendat seen. The Barsaron never stepped their webbed feet inside the cities grounds, and Tir's race of Tenura made sure to steer clear. By many, it was called the "Cursed City", for its reputation as a place of thieves' guilds and criminals home. Even though it was the capital.

Narrator's Note:

These are the races of Gūdhal.

The Tenura are the people of the Earth, born from the Goddess of the Hearth. They revel in hunting, traveling, and farming. Their lands spread from the great forests to the harsh deserts.

The Siamo are the bird-people of the mountains and cities and have been in power since the First Period, the beginning of all empires. Though shaped much like the Tenura and humans of Earth, their arms sprout thick feathers of varying colors and they have the ability to fly. They value wisdom and philosophy, though most of the time the other races find them arrogant.

The Umaleria are the horse people of the plains, deserts, and mountains. They are easily recognizable by their furry flanks and hoofed feet, and males sprout horns of a wide range. They resemble the satyrs of Greek legend on Earth. Valuing hard work and resilience, other races often use them for their labor.

The Karubo are the miners and jewelers of caves and mountains. They are small, dark-haired, and are gifted with glowing eyes, to navigate the dark tunnels of their home. They value hard work and skill and, like the Umaleria, are used in cities for their labor and expertise in jewelry. You have already met a Karubo. Remember Délia from the last chapter?

The Cōrendat are the cat-people of the tundras and mountaintops. They often are involved in squabbles and conflicts with the Siamo, sharing an awfully close living space, but are known to dominate all places cold. They sport thick fur all down their arms, legs, and chest, ears pointing upwards with lynx-like furs on the top, and massive paws with retractable claws. Often they are thought of as thieves because they value survival and fighting skill.

The Barsaron are the people of the seas. Their home is the largest and most diverse of all the races, and they value fishing and beauty. Most communities scavenge ancient underwater artifacts from other races, and so because of this, they are considered the most culturally diverse. However, they also tend to be the most easily manipulated of the races, and though they are peaceful, often get roped into wars and conflicts.

Last but not least, there are the wizards of Gūdhal. The wizards are not technically a race since wizards can come from any part of the world and do not conform to being just Karubo or Barsaron or Siamo. I am the head of this order, as Alexia is the head of all Siamo. I am the High Priestess and I come from the lost class of city-dwelling Tenura.

Tir approached the gates of the castle with as much reverence and grace as she could. Two guards stood outside, two Siamo men with wings of massive brown feathers. City-birds, Tir thought, inwardly rolling her eyes as she met them.

"State your purpose." The one on the right said, eyeing her with what was definitely not respect.

"I have been called upon by the Empress." She clasped her hands in front of her heavy skirt. She hated wearing skirts, and the petticoat felt all too restricting.

"You cannot enter the Hall of Spirits wearing that." The left guard drawled. Bird-brain, Tir thought.

"These are my best clothes, and I have been called upon anyway." And it was the truth. Tir didn't own lots of clothes, and these were her nicest anyway. Maybe they were too ethnic for these guards. Gasp! The bright woven colors and desert culture patterns probably confused them. The both of the guards wore all white robes, sleeveless for their wings to blow free, and brown leather belts with a single short sword. The usual for the guards of the castle. It was the ancient tradition.

"My statement stands," The left said.

"Your statement does not need to apply to me. I have told you, I have been called upon. Is this going to be an issue?" She smiled sweetly and tapped her foot.

"It does not need to be an issue. Come back when you are dressed to enter the Hall."

Tir sent them a last look of annoyance and turned. Siamo stared at her as they passed, women holding their chicks close and making a beeline away. She crossed her arms over her chest. How did she need to dress, exactly, to get in?

Every Siamo woman dressed fairly similarly. Long, flowing, light-colored dresses, a belt of black or brown, and either braided or covered hair. The hair of city-dwelling Siamo tended to be thin and dark, easily plaited or kept away from the face. It was a symbol of modesty to wear a scarf over the head, and while it was not subject to any of Tir's hatred, she knew that these people had gotten (stolen) this idea and symbol from her people. Longer than any had the earth Tenura worn scarves, as protection from the harsh weather of their environment. The Siamo used it as a fashion statement. That part of the scarf-wearing bothered Tir.

She unwrapped the colorful sash from around her right shoulder and tied it around her face, balling up her puffy, curly brown hair behind her. She was closer to the image of a Siamo. The belt part she'd have to opt out of, for she already wore one of a deep red color. It would have to do.

"I'm ready to enter the Hall," She announced, turning back to the guards and putting her hands on her hips. The two of them looked her over, up and down, and then to each other.

"Sure." The one on the right grumbled, opening the door behind him and stepping aside. "Before entering the Hall we must search for any weapons."

Great. Tir should've expected this, as these guards clearly already thought she was here to attack the Empress. Worse yet, she had her throwing knives on her, since they always were, and it was much too far on her old knees to go all the way back to her son to de-arm.

"I have some-" She unclasped the holster for her knives and held it in front of her. "Hunting knives. You know I am a hunter, right? That most earth Tenura are?" She handed over the knives with a sarcastic smile. "That's all."

They weren't convinced. The left guard held the throwing knives as if they had minds of their own and planned to cut him, while the right stepped forward. "Your satchel, ma'am."

She hated being called ma'am. Why did everyone call her ma'am? She swung her satchel around to her front and opened the flap to let the guards peer inside. Again, nothing. Her thick hands sifted through the stuff. "Fishing wire, sketchbook, a box of charcoals and assorted plant extracts."

"What kind of plant extract?" He huffed, suspicious. His face said he thought she was here to drug him, but his eyes were simply curious.

"Mostly chamomile, echinacea, lots of feverfews." She showed the vials and debated taking some of the feverfew medicine; these men were giving her a headache.

"What do they do?"

"They aren't drugs, no hallucinogens. Chamomile for anxiety, echinacea for fevers - I always have a bit on me, just in case - and feverfew for headaches. Harmless stuff." And she shut the flap of her bag and swung it back around to rest against her wide hips. "Any more searching, or can I go meet with the Empress now and not keep her waiting?"

The right guard pinched his pointy nose and nodded. "Yes. I will show you in."

Tir nodded and followed him. "Be careful with those," She gestured to her knives in the grasp of the left guard, who met her eyes with surprise and nodded. Maybe they began to realize she wasn't out to get them after all. She didn't hold high hopes for these bird-brains.

The entry hall of the castle was bigger than any room Tir had ever seen; high, arched ceiling with exposed beams, the old wood held together with bands of steel. The shape of the room resembled a ribcage, steady and curved. There were no doors but one on the complete opposite of the hall, large and thick and carved with depictions of the First Wars. Siamo being killed relentlessly by the Dark Ones, the ancient Goddess Denjorc at the head of them, face-to-face with the Siamo God and her twin brother Prælfheah. They were the stories and legends Tir heard as a child, merely myths, but seeing them displayed upon a door made her wonder if these stories were more than stories to these people.

"This door," The guard said, as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. "I am allowed only this far."

He was smiling. Not such a bird-brain then, after all. "Thank you..." She stood on her remaining foot and gestured for a name. "...I did not catch your name."

"Watien." He answered. He seemed to decide she wasn't all that bad.

The air of this castle had something magical to it. All that entered felt more calm, more at peace. Tir hated Alfone, and she was suspicious of others' suspicions towards her, and so the castle felt that and tended to her. Watien, on the other hand, was suspicious of her and his prejudice made him ignorant to what was, in fact, a very interesting and loving woman. The castle saw all, it felt all, and Alexia was a part of it. She felt Tir enter and she shifted on her throne, opening her eyes under her veil.

Watien opened the door for her and stood aside. Tir thanked him one last time and stepped into the Hall of Spirits.

Fires were lit at every column. Smoke filled the room with smells of the wilderness, tiny glass-less windows at the top of every fire to release the smog, but they let no sunlight into the hall. It was like walking through a dream, only the clink of Tir's metal leg tapping the marble floor. Everything was white, but a smoky white mixed with greys and blacks, morphing in and out of the fire's light. Tir squinted as she stepped through, looking for the Empress or frankly, anyone, but through the fog she could see nothing. Shapes danced on the wall, and the air was filled with magic.

Tir walked until a massive onyx dais came into view. There were no fires lit around it, none but the single incense burning on a stone table beside the throne. The actual throne exceeded fifteen feet, made of solid shimmering tanzanite that nearly glowed in the low, ethereal light. The outer edges were lined with amethyst, raw and spiky. On the seat was a lavender velvet pillow, on which sat Empress Alexia, called the Newborn, Keeper of Toil, and the Perilous.

Tir had only ever heard of what the Empress looked like; Lavender hair always kept in thick braids around her head and rich chocolate skin. But in person, well... She broke all expectations. Each braid was thicker than the width of Tir's forearm, and there were past twenty of them, all adorned with glimmering white jewels and tied with silver ribbon. Atop her head was the headdress of the line of Prælfheah, a thin golden circlet with two outward prongs on each side, a line of precious light blue stones at the end of each prong. At the forehead, a larger blue stone dangled off the circlet. It represented the four Gods of death, the four prongs, and the One Creator, called Kah by those who practiced the old religion, as the large blue stone resting against the forehead. A white veil partially masked her face, mystifying the dark skin underneath. A simple, silk white dress covered her body, low-cut and hooped around her neck, sleeveless, and dropping past her crossed legs. It accentuated every line, curve, and scar on her body and Tir thought she might as well be naked. Her skin was a rich chocolate, shining with the finest oils. Thin hands grasped the end of both armrests, and she leaned against the back of the throne, but her neck was curved sideways like she was listening for something. Pointed ears twitched underneath the fountain of braids and unnaturally light eyes peered through dark eyelashes.

Tir was startled. She didn't know how she was supposed to act, what she was to do. Was she supposed to bow? Salute her? Address her as My Empress, or your highness?

"Tir of Fumbauni." The Empress addressed her first, those piercing eyes looking her up and down calmly. "You have a metal leg."

Her voice was deep, gentle, and nothing like Tir thought it would be. And the things she said was also nothing like she thought it'd be, and she nearly let out a laugh.

"Yes." She managed through the sudden pressure in her throat. She was breathless looking upon the Empress. "I do."

"I did not sense it," Her words were drawled out, like she was too tired to speak. "I felt you enter. Arah!"

Tir thought maybe she'd said something in the Siamo language, something cryptid or majestic, but a small Siamo servant appeared from a previously fogged up entryway to the left of the throne, on the dais. Alexia had called upon a servant.

"Get this woman a chair."

Arah disappeared through the archway as quickly as he'd appeared. For a long moment, they stood in silence. Tir got accustomed to the unearthly appearance of the Empress and mindlessly wondered if she was hot with so many fires lit in the room, or what she was doing sitting all alone in such a massive Hall. Was she lonely? How long had she been sitting there?

Arah returned with an oaken chair larger than his body and placed it in front of the dais and throne with a bit of difficulty. Tir made sure to thank him and then he was gone.

"How did it happen?" Alexia began again, her voice the same misty mewl.

"What? How did what happen?" Tir looked up from the arm of her chair. This chair would sell for a lot in her village. It was antique.

"Your leg."

Again, not what she was expecting. Subconsciously her hand drifted to just under her knee, where metal and flesh met. "It was..." She took a deep breath and remembered back to when the accident had happened. "I just turned twenty. It was on the night of my birth-date, or was it... It was my first husband's birth-date hunt, that's what it was. Trappers outside our village had set up traps in our nearest hunting grounds, in the forest, and that's typically considered illegal. We know every single trap and net and hole in that forest, and these traps messed our system up. I stepped on a bear trap and they had to cut me out, just under the knee."

"Mm." The Empress brought a hand to her mouth in thought. For a minute no one spoke or moved. Then Alexia shifted and stood. The silk dress dropped lightly to the floor, just touching. Tir felt the heat rise in her face. That dress really did nothing to conceal her.

"I have a problem." She began, stepping slowly across the dais and stopping at the first step down. "You see," One bare foot touched down on the next stair, and another, "I have a very wealthy investor that wants to build a road. Roads are useful. Roads bring trade and tax. Trade and tax raise money. And money is good for more wealthy investors."

By now she brushed by the oak chair, nimble fingers skipping over against the back and silent feet walking away. Tir turned. She had stopped five feet away, faced into the smoke. Her hands were motionless by her side.

"This road plans to plow straight through your village."

Tir started. "That is why you called me here?"

"Yes."

Tir breathed a bit of a laugh. "Then... What do you suppose we do, my Empress?"

"You village has many children, does it not?" Alexia turned back around with a swish of her dress. Tir nodded quietly. "Yes... Children are no good when raised as enemies of the government. This you must know. Your people are not treated well in these days, this I admit... Hatred riddles my people like a disease, and they try to justify it by blaming their own hardships on the even more common hardships of other races. It is a broken system that cannot break." She let out a laugh. "Never mind the semantics. I do not want nor do I need more people against me. I offer complete compensation for all damages done to your home, and movement to a sanctuary for your village twenty miles east. Now tell me..." She brushed back towards Tir, pacing in mild nervousness. "...Is that something your people would like, or dislike?"

Tir thought for a long moment. Those dark fingers skimmed the air by her face. "To be honest, your highness... It is something they would dislike."

"Tell me what you want." She stepped up one of the four steps up to her throne and sat. She was much more casual than Tir would've thought. "Name your price."

"It is not money we want, it is respect," Tir said, faster than her brain could think it. Maybe it was the castle having its effects on her again, drawing out information from her mind like poison being drawn from a wound. "You're right about the part about discrimination. Everyone hates us, and I can't figure out why. We do not want money or another place to live, we want safety in our home and the respect we properly deserve."

Alexia angled her face to the floor. The veil must've been irritating her because she slid it off and placed it next to her. "I feel this is the answer I knew all along. And I believe I have the solution."

Tir smiled, more sarcasm than she wished, and her eyebrows raised in question. "You do?"

Alexia nodded slowly, carefully. With a single sweeping motion, she stood, turned, and dashed up the stairs without lifting her dress. Tir was impressed at the latter the most. "I do. However, this information is something I cannot disclose to the general public. Not yet, at least."

Tir stood as well, seeing as the conservation might've been moving somewhere more secret. Alexia cupped her hands around her thick lips, and shouted, "Naskhfa! Conceal!"

The smog in the room all at once changed black, pure black, and thickened until Tir could not see five feet away. Alexia tapped what might've been a cane on the dais, three times.

"Come." Her voice called, sounding like the word of God rising from the clouds. As carefully as she could, Tir found her way up the four steps towards the continual tapping. The Empress stood in a parting of the smoke, holding a golden cane. She stood in front of the same doorway the servant Arah had come from. Tir figured they were to go in it, but Alexia dropped the cane in front of her before she could.

"The smoke conceals us." She muttered, now awfully close to Tir. Her breathing was quick and her light grey-blue eyes glowed. "We have no need to go somewhere."

Tir swallowed and stepped one foot back. "What is it you need to tell me?"

For a few seconds, Alexia said nothing, peering around the smoke with wide eyes. "How old are you, Tir? How much of our history do you know?"

It would be a rude question if not for the fact that this woman was her Empress, and that Tir did not really care. "Um- forty-three this year. And I do not know how much I know, I heard the stories as a child."

A smile spread on her lips. "You know of Vitswèth the Vehement, then?"

"I suppose. The Empress before you, right?"

There was a joy on her face that had not been there previously. Tir tried to remember the stories, the legends, but her memory was not what it used to be. "She was to be my wife," Alexia confirmed, the smile on her face full of love but her eyes sorrowed. "Do you know of her fate? Why I took the throne?"

Tir shook her head.

"She fell in battle." The smile wavered only slightly. "The last battle of the war. She gave me the crown as her soul fled this world."

Tir looked down, not sure how to respond. Was she supposed to give her well wishes? Confirm that, yes, it was sad and terrible? Why was she telling her this, anyway? "...What do you mean to tell me, My Empress?"

"Vitswèth is returning." She whispered. Tir held her breath. "The ancient prophecy is beginning its motion."

"What... prophecy?"

"It was foretold by the mages of old, Vitswèth's grandfather's High Priestess' predictions. She said that, in time, a child of the Emperor will be killed in battle. And that they would return years later, to restore peace to all the land." She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but that glint in her eyes was something Tir did not miss. "I always thought they were fairy tales."

Tir couldn't help but smile too. Restoring peace to all the land sounded good. Very good. "Why is it you tell me this?"

"Because the prophecy also told of companions of each race to accompany the arisen. We are aware of only one, and she is a Karubo living on Earth. We speculate the others, and..." She leaned against the marble wall and shifted her gaze. "We are going to publicize trials to find the last two."

Tir knew what she was saying. "You want me to compete in the trials? Why?"

"You will have the chance of first pick," She continued on. "I offer you this because you said you wish for respect for your people. There would be no better way to gain respect than competing and possibly winning the trials."

Tir still didn't understand. She was forty-two years old, a peg-leg and mother of three and Head Huntress of her village. She had responsibilities. She couldn't just leave and stay in the castle, could she? Sure, winning the trials would be a huge milestone for her people, and of course, she'd bring honor to her race, but...

"Did you come here with someone?" Alexia was staring her directly in the eye. "A traveling companion?"

"My son." She answered, her mind still racing.

"Your son. Is he of age?"

"Yes?" It was a strange question. What was the Empress thinking? "He is over twenty."

"Mm." Alexia stood straight again, placing the golden cane against the wall with a strange sorrow in her eyes. She walked back to the center of the dais. "We have many open rooms in the castle. Many empty rooms you could stay in while the trials pend."

A shock went through Tir's heart. Stay in the castle? This enormous mansion? Where all the lords and ladies visited and stayed and where all important things in Alfone happened? "You would have me stay here?"

"If you are alright with it. I can send some of my personal guards with your son when he returns to Fumbauni to ensure his safety."

Tir wasn't sure. She liked to think things out thoroughly before making a decision like this. "I... I don't know."

"You can have three days to decide." Alexia's fingers brushed against her throne and she sat with a huff. "That is all the time I can give you. I am a busy woman."

"Of course."

Alexia leaned forward in the throne and stared through the thick smoke. "Sueunte! Ascend!" She shouted, and the smoke dissipated enough for Tir to see all the way down the hall. Alexia looked exhausted from their talk as she sat back. The sun had to have risen all the way by then. Tir wondered if Niv was doing well at the vendor, if he had sold anything. She turned to leave, then remembered she was in the company of the Empress.

"Thank you." She said, curtsying and smiling. Alexia had a fey look in her eyes, one that confused Tir. "I will consider your gracious offer."

Alexia the Newborn looked her over one last time and smiled wearily. Suddenly she looked as if she was about to faint. "Your skirt does not suit you," She said. "Have a wonderful day."

Tir sent a last bewildered half-smile and turned to walk down the Hall of Spirits. The fires sparked as she passed and waved her goodbye. The smooth marble stone made her nervous. The metal foot clicking on the floor could've been awfully close to slipping. The doors seemed smaller than they had been when she entered and pushed them open with some difficulty.

Sunlight streamed into her vision. Blinding light shook her to the bones and she had to pause before starting down the entry hall. Suddenly there were handmaids and servants and children running about the building, bustling with energy. No one noticed her as she walked amongst them. She even spotted an Umalerian cook running past with a steaming pan of roast vegetables. Tir slid off the head scarf and tied it around her waist.

The front doors to the entry hall were open, letting in yet more light. The guards stood as still as always, brown feathers all shiny in the sun. Their braided hair shone like helmets. Tir stepped out and looked to the left guard for her knives.

"My knives?" She set her hands on her hips. The guard saw her fiery gaze and rifled his pockets for the holster. He handed it back without looking at her and Tir turned away. For a short moment, she looked over the right guard and sent him a last unreadable look. "See you around, Watien."

The city of Alfone was not as unbearable during the mid-day. Fried dough and pastries and breads roasted in the hot sun, laying out on shelves and trays. It smelt incredible. Like happiness in the form of food. Umalerian chefs called out, trying to sell the delectables, and of course, Tir fell for it. She stopped at a venue of baked olive bread and fished in her bag for coins. She knew she had a few in there.

"Three ryals," The Umalerian woman said, extending a callused hand. She had wrapped a loaf in brown paper. Tir found the small pocket of change and grabbed three ryals, small bronze coins with the insignia of Alexia printed on the front and a fire on the back.

"The price has gone up, huh?" Tir traded the coins for the bread. The woman set the money in her purse at her brown furry hip. This woman, Tir thought, was from the land near her home of Fumbauni. Brown fur, wide hooves, a wide nose and large, fan-like ears.

"Demand has gone up too." She replied, her mid-eastern accent confirming her homeland. "It is summer. People like sweets and oils."

Tir nodded thanks and turned. "Thanks for the bread." The woman waved joyously. It was a nice day, after all, and people seemed to be in good moods. The onyx buildings did not emit such a burning heat any longer since the sun had moved a bit in its course, and the air was light and breezy. Even the uneven cobble did not bother Tir as much.

As she walked, Tir flipped the idea of entering the trials around her mind. It would bring honor to her people, that was for sure, but she wondered if it was too dangerous. What would happen if she got hurt? At her age, it could be fatal. She had an eleven-year-old at home and a tribe to take care of. Would that risk be worth honor?

Besides, if she did win, what would happen then? Empress Alexia had talked about the ancient prophecy, and she had said something about bringing peace to the world. What did that entail? A quest? An adventure? Would it be dangerous? Was this returning of the last Empress provoked by something?

Her thoughts were broken by sudden shouting and yelling. She looked up from the pat, click of her feet on the cobble and was met with a Cōrendat racing down the street on all fours, a large satchel in his mouth. A Siamo woman was screaming and her husband was cursing, and people all around carved a path around the thief. He was running straight at Tir. As an instinct, Tir's hand shot out as the Cōrendat ran past, stopping him effectively so that his muscular body whipped around, sharp teeth still clinging to the leather strap of the bag. He growled and hissed.

"This does not belong to you." Tir spat back, yanking on the satchel. Two, massive, paw-like hands lifted and razor sharp claws appeared. He meant to cut the bag from her grip or cut her hands from the bag. She sent a hard kick to his ribcage with her metal leg.

"G-ah!" He inhaled, and for that split second Tir was able to free the satchel from his teeth. But the Cōrendat had, for loss of a better word, cat-like reflexes. He lunged and gripped the leather with claws as sharp as Tir's knives.

"I don't think you understand," The Cōrendat sent a toothy smile, not the least bit friendly. "This belongs to me."

There were Siamo guards running down the path. They'd heard the commotion and had come running. "Doesn't matter." Tir breathed. This thief was strong. "You stole it in broad daylight. That in itself is a crime. Now hand over the bag or these bird-brains are gonna gut you."

A more gleeful smile slipped onto his face. He let go of the bag and stepped back. His grey tail swished excitedly behind him. "You are the one."

Tir started to ask what he meant, hiss something back at him. But the Cōrendat raised his furry arms and shouted. The words he spoke were not of any living language and were not spoken for many many years. Centuries, maybe. The power of his speech sunk into Tir's skin, gripping her in icy claws. She trembled and fell back, not feeling anything but stillness. In her mind, a voice rung out.

"Tir of Fumbauni." It said, long and drawn out and deep as the ocean. "Come to us and we will give you immeasurable power."

Tir shook her head, desperately, grasping the air for something to drag her out of the weightless feeling. It felt horrible, all of it, and she spluttered as if she was drowning. Water was filling her lungs. She couldn't see anything. What was happening?

A second later it was gone. Oxygen circulated her veins, clear summer air caressed her skin, and she could feel the bumpy cobblestone underneath her back. Soreness rang out in her bones. Most noticeable of all was the shouting around her head.

"Ma!" It was Niv who shook her body. "Ma, ma! Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

She could hear him as clear as a bell in her ear. "Yes, yes." Her voice was cracked and low. Slowly she sat up and noticed all who surrounded her. At least ten Siamo guards (the Cōrendat nowhere to be seen), and a crowd of city-goers circled her and Niv, staring with fear and surprise and horror. The children looked more horrified than any of the adults.

"Miss," One of the guards stepped forward, gaining her attention, and folded his feathered arms. "Do you know what just happened?"

Tir looked around again. "I tried to get a bag back from a thief." She said. The bag was clutched in her hand. "And then I was drowning."

The guard looked mildly upset. "You have just been a victim of Eazkahf."

Tir let out a huff of a laugh. "Eazkahf has been gone for centuries."

"Miss, I'd like you to come to the castle." He continued. "This is very important, what just happened here. I am sure the Empress would like to meet and inquire you."

"I just did meet her." Tir sat up further and pushed away Niv's worried hand from her shoulder. "I just came from the castle."

"Can you at least tell me, then, what happened?"

"I told you." She prodded the metal leg and made sure it hadn't broken. "I was trying to stop a thief and next thing I knew, I was drowning. A voice called out to me, too." She remembered. "They told me to join them and that they'd give me immeasurable power. I didn't answer."

The guard nodded. He was twisting a ring around his finger anxiously. "I will relay this to the Empress. Thank you."

"Wait," Tir held onto her son as she stood on still shaky feet. "Tell the Empress one more thing. Tell her that I accept her offer."

chapter one of ages of earth

It was the last day of school senior year. What was an ordinary ice-cream outing turned into a life-changing spiritual experience. But of course, this isn't even remotely the beginning of the story. But for the sake of this making any sense to you at all, I thought I'd start it here.

Narrator's Note:

This isn't my story. This isn't about me.

My name is Ellen. Ellen Marshall. I'm a wizard. My Earth age is seventeen. My Gūdhal age is over seven thousand.

I was tasked by my Empress to tell her story. Don't worry, it'll all make sense by the end. Promise.

It was late spring/early summer, last day of senior year. Should be easy for this senior, Tatianna Forrest, who had a severe case of Senioritis. Besides, there wasn't really anything left to do in school. There were things that mattered. Like the track team, and getting her pilot's license, and keeping up with friends.

She ran into the morning meeting late. As student body president, a few of the members glared at her but she took her place at the head of the table anyway. Just about every Wednesday, they had these meetings, and today was no exception. Even though it was the end of the year and there wasn't much to talk about.

"Sorry, I'm sorry everybody." She set her bag next to her and caught her breath. "I had to bring Alex to school today, my mom's car broke down."

"It's fine, really. Sit." Nasir, the vice-president, set his hand over Tatianna's reassuringly and she breathed a sigh of relief. Nasir was an attractive bronze-skinned junior, whom many of Tatianna's friends had crushes on. He was kind and honest and also (sadly for Tatianna's friends) very attracted to men.

Tatianna sat and leaned back in the plastic chair. "So what are we even talking about today?"

There was a bit of contemplative silence. "It's the last meeting," Nasir pointed out, and the seven of them nodded in acknowledgment. "We don't really have any plans." Another pause. "I got into Boston U."

Catherine shifted in her chair. "I got into Dartmouth."

Daniel added, "I'm going to MIT," and Amy tacked on, "I'm goin' to UMass Amherst."

The four looked at the three left. Daisha decided to speak up first. "I got accepted to Harvard."

"Yale." Mickey sent a smirk.

They all looked to Tatianna. Uneasy in her seat, she pursed her lips and looked down. Her thumbs twiddled in her lap, a nervous habit. "I'm... I've got no plans for now."

"What?" Nasir sat up immediately. "You're not going to college? Didn't you get into UVM?"

"Yeah, I got into all the schools I applied for." She huffed and looked up. Still, she couldn't meet anyone's eyes. "I can't go to college right now. It's been rough lately, and my family... I have to save up money for college myself. Mom took an extra shift at the diner and Alex got a job at the movie theater just to pay rent, so I don't exactly have money for it." She let out a laugh. "Geez. I sound depressing. I'm not sad I can't go right now," She finally looked around the table, able to catch the sorrowed gazes of her peers. "It's amazing you guys all got into those colleges, though. I wish you all the best of luck."

"Oh, Tat..." Daisha put a hand on the president's shoulder. "You should've told us, we'd've started a GoFundMe or something. It could've been our senior project!" At this particular school, all the seniors had to publish some sort of community service article, whether it be starting a charity or raising awareness for something or simply volunteering at a local shelter was up to the student. Each member of this student body did a great charity, and together they volunteered at a shelter in Boston.

"Nah, it's fine. Didn't want to put you to any trouble." She passed a reassuring smile around, which always seemed to calm the group. "What're you guys doing for the summer?"

For the remaining ten minutes of the last meeting, they shared plans of camping and waterskiing and boating and even going on retreats. Tatianna planned on staying home and spending her days flying and (finally) getting that pilot's license.

The bell rung for the first block, and before they left the seven gathered in a mound of a group hug, all promising to keep in touch and sending well wishes. And then they were gone. The door shut with a final end behind them.

Nasir walked with Tatianna to physics, their first class. It was a day so sunny Tatianna wondered how long it'd take for a teacher of theirs to suggest going outside. She pictured herself on the stone bench just beyond the front entryway, roasting like a reptile under the barrage of the sun.

"You have soccer practice today?" Tatianna questioned, glancing at her friend with a smile.

"No, but I am refereeing one of Alex's." He smiled at his feet. "I can't imagine I won't be playing some later, though. It's beautiful out."

It wasn't Tatianna who answered. "Yes, truly the epitome of weather, a ray of happiness drifting down upon us."

It was Délia, the sarcastic, small-chested mousy friend of the two already walking to class. She's completely unassuming, small and unnoticeable in a crowd but vulgar and loud in private. She-

Narrator's Note:

I'm going to stop now. She's looking over my shoulder at this moment and I don't want to get in more trouble than I probably already will.

"Oh stop that." Tatianna roughed up her short black hair and turned to corner to the wooden door in front of them, reading Alfred Lehrer. "Gotta go Dee. See you later."

Délia waved goodbye and they parted ways. Tatianna and Nasir took their places in the front of the room, as Nasir had bad eyesight and did not have a pair of glasses yet. The teacher sat at his desk on this laptop, not even bothering to look up.

"Laptops are on the cart. Do whatever the hell you want, just don't get me in trouble." He gestured to the black cart next to his desk and continued on whatever he was working on. So the class got up and each grabbed their own MacBook, sitting back down in their seats and moving chairs to giggle with friends and chat about summer and graduation.

The whole day went like that. Tatianna was right about one thing, and that was that the history teacher let them chill outside for the hour class. No one bothered to actually do anything in class. It was perfect.

Tatianna met Délia outside the school that day, to drive around town and get ice cream. They piled into Tatianna's old car, creaking in the wind, and turned the aux up as loud as it would go.

"Who's excited to get out of this hellhole?" Délia leaned out the window as they drove off, raising her arms with a victory, "Whoo!"

"Get down, Dee!" Tatianna grabbed her waist and pulled her back down, turning the steering wheel as she went and almost flinging Délia out of the window. "Down!" She shouted again and finally, her friend sat in her seat. "You give me aneurysms, Dee, you know that?"

"Chill, I'm just having a good time!" She turned the dial on the dash, but the volume wouldn't go any higher. "Mm mm come on now follow my lead mm mm!" She danced in place as Shape of You continued on, blasting out the speakers and into the thick summer air. "Hey Tat, I'm in love with the shape of you."

Tatianna let out a massive laugh. "Miss me with that gay shit," She managed through giggles.

"Hit me with that gay shit!" Délia countered. "Punch me with that gay shit! Murder me with that gay shit!"

Tatianna had no answer for that, so she just chuckled the whole way to the ice cream parlor. The whole five minutes. Cars drove up next to them just to sing and laugh and drive away, a speck or intimate happiness between strangers. The sun hid behind tufts of cotton-ball clouds, and children screamed in delight with something that could only be described as summertime euphoria. Black and white soccer balls sailed through the air, red and white jerseys darted like curving missiles, weaving through each other and creating a beautiful pulsing mass.

"We're here," Tatianna announced, punching Délia playfully on the arm and rolling up the windows. "Get out. Time for ice cream."

"YES!" The smaller one pumped her fists to the sky and tripped over the car door as she got out, laughing some more and standing straight. This was the moment Tatianna felt a premonition; for a moment time dissipated and she saw Délia trip onto the sidewalk and skin her knee. For the fraction of a second she was gone, Tatianna for the first time heard a voice.

"Vitswèth," It drawled out, a deep feminine voice with something ethereal and angelic hidden within it. "You've returned."

But then it was gone. Time reformed and Dèlia jumped onto the sidewalk, stumbling over her own feet. Faster than she realized Tatianna scooped her up and avoided the accident, saving her knee from utter demise. "Be careful," She scolded, but her voice was creaky and quickly she cleared her throat. "Come on, let's get ice cream before you hurt yourself more."

They entered the shop with more excitement. Tatianna tried to ignore the fact that some had just spoken in her head (and whoever the hell Vitswèth was), and instead stepped up to order. Surprisingly the shop wasn't all that crowded, and Tatianna was thankful for that. As much as she enjoyed company, she was hoping to just chill with Dèlia.

But again she stopped short, this time for a vastly different reason. She was struck by the woman at the counter. She was small and buxom, with wildly large black hair pulled tightly into what was maybe a bun? The volume of it made it look more like a giant puffball glued onto her head. Two thick, dense braids trailed down over her full chest and cuffs and rings and a necklace of shining silver accentuated her golden skin, riddled without space with freckles. Her nose resembled a button, her lips ample and slicked with vaseline. Her eyes shone like stars in her head, bright blue and purple and black and white all cracked together in a supernova. Everything she wore was black and loose.

That's me. Ellen Marshall.

Narrator's Note:

I'm not vain. I don't brag. I have insecurities just like everybody else.

But I'm beautiful.

It was Délia who spoke, unaffected by me. "I'll have a large, double chocolate caramel swirl with rainbow sprinkles. Tat?" And she turned to Tatianna as I began to scoop out the ice cream.

"Uhh..." Her tongue had turned to sand. "Medium vanilla soft serve, please..."

"Coming right up," I said, sending a smile and a wink at the both of them. Though I'm sure it meant something drastically different to each. Tatianna flushed bright red, and Délia winked back. The shop was silent for a half a minute, all but the hum of the freezer and the one other group of three who chittered in the back corner. Why was it so empty?

"It's the last day for seniors, right?" I spoke up when no one else would. "At the private school down the street," I added, for clarification.

"Yeah," Délia spoke since Tatianna couldn't. "Are you a senior? You look our age."

"I haven't seen you at our school." Tatianna managed. Délia smirked a knowing smirk.

"No, I'm a junior." I handed Délia's cone over and turned around to the soft serve machine, unable to talk for the twenty seconds it took to ooze out the vanilla. "Any toppings?" I asked as I turned around.

"Uh- chocolate jimmies?" She stared at the ground. I smiled and dunked the cup in a good amount of chocolate sprinkles and handed it over the counter. The red spread to her ears when our fingers touched.

"I'm surprised I haven't seen you around." Délia couldn't wipe that smirk off her face, and at this point neither could I. "What's your name?"

"Ellen. Marshall. Yours?" I stepped to the cash register and paused to face them. Desperately I wanted Tatianna to say something to me, anything.

"Uh- Tatianna Forrest."

"Délia Iwayama."

"I'm surprised I don't know you either." Tatianna began again, speaking through her spoonful of vanilla soft serve. "You're- very pretty."

I smiled a beaming smile. "Thank you, you too. It'll be eleven seventy-seven, please."

Délia covered for Tatianna and handed over the cash. "Thanks, Ellen. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day!" I waved as the two of them left, and Tatianna waved back with an impressively retained blush. The two of them sat at one of the many picnic tables outside, and it took a long while before Tatianna managed to speak again. That was also because of the ice cream being shoveled into her mouth.

"She was pretty," Tatianna managed to squeak out finally. Already she had completely forgotten about the voice in her head.

"She's alright." Délia rolled her eyes, fortunately not caught by her friend. "But I saw you were very... Entranced."

"Oh, shut up." She curled her lip, in good fun. "Did you see her? How could I have never seen her in school? She's got one of the most recognizable faces I've ever seen!"

"Yeah, she's freckly."

"Freckly? Her face is like a constellation of stars!"

At that Délia went blank and continued especially determined on her treat. "We should go to your place after this."

Tatianna got the vibe that Délia wasn't all too fond of the starry woman and took a lick of ice cream. "I got GTA finally."

"Oh, lit. There are my evening plans."

They sat there until they finished their ice cream, the sun still beating down on them as time wore on. Cars raced by, mere strips of color, and inside I watched the two carefully. Slowly, without me to distract her, Tatianna remembered and pondered the voice and the Vitswèth. Délia tried not to suspect all that much and instead used her skill in gossip to keep the conversation going.

No one could stop it from happening. Délia knew what my appearance meant. She just didn't particularly like it.

"You done?" Délia sat up, finished with her cone and waiting on Tatianna. She was feeling awfully impatient, more than usual. She didn't want to hang around that area any longer than she had to.

"Yeah," Tatianna handed over her empty cup with one last scrape and stood. "Why're you so acting so weird? Like not yourself. Too quiet."

"Maybe it was the ice cream." She grumbled. "I forgot to take Lactaid pills today, that could do it."

"That would do it." Tatianna swung her keys around her finger and stepped towards the car. "Why do you do this? You know you get sick from dairy, why do you eat it?"

"'Cause sometimes it's worth it. Like ice cream. And Doritos."

"You're ridiculous."

The car started up with a shudder, and again they turned on the stereo max volume. Délia acted normal (her own normal), leaning out the window like a dog and yelling the lyrics to every song that came on and dancing (thrashing) in her seat. Tatianna was back to normal too, scolding her friend for giving her a heart attack every time she leaned out the window too far and laughing anyway. It was the start of summer and the last summer with all her friends at home. She had to hold onto this as long as she could.

It was all bad timing.

Driving home, Tatianna saw yet another premonition. Usually, the visions were at least a few days apart, more likely weeks, and never had she had more than one in a single day. While turning a corner, time and reality evaporated and she saw; A black truck whipped around the other corner, her blindspot, and crashed right into her driver-side door. And again, she heard the voice.

"Vitswèth." That same female voice, long and urgent like a flatline. "Be aware."

It was gone again before she could reply. Time reformed and Tatianna slammed on the brakes, and that truck flew past. Her chest heaved unsteady, trembling breaths and her heart pounded in her ribcage like it never had before.

"FUCK!" Délia screamed and grabbed onto the windowsill before she could go flying. "What the hell was that?"

Tatianna was frozen in her seat. What was going on? Two premonitions, two of the same voice in her head, in her head-

"Tat, what the hell was-" Délia sat back in her seat, turned down the dial and looked to her friend. She saw the paleness on her face, the fear, and confusion and she knew something was wrong. "Tat, Tat look at me dude- Are you okay? What happened?"

A few seconds passed. Lightly as a leaf drifting through the air, Tatianna pressed her foot to the gas pedal and started down the road. Her house was only a few minutes away.

"I'm freaking out, Dee." She managed finally, with a cough. "You know those- visions I told you about? The premonitions?"

"Mm. Yeah."

"I've had two today." She glanced at Délia and sighed. "Not only that, but I heard a voice. The same voice both times. You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"

"No, no I don't think you're crazy." She soothed immediately. "I told you, premonitions aren't that uncommon, it's not a crazy thing."

"No no, but the voice. I heard a voice. It was a woman."

Délia looked around. The coast was clear. "What'd she say?"

"She called me Vitswèth. Twice. The first time she said 'you've returned' or something like that, and just now she said 'be aware'. What the hell does that mean?"

Délia tapped her foot anxiously and shook her head. "Maybe it was just your conscience, telling you to be aware - you did just almost get hit by a truck."

"No. No that's wasn't it." She turned into her little side street. "Because that wouldn't explain the you've returned, and that name she was calling me." She hit the steering wheel with her hand and swore. "I'm freaking out. What the hell is going on?"

"Hey, it's okay. Calm down, really, I'm here." Délia shifted in her seat and turned her head on the headrest to face Tatianna. "We're almost home. What about this-" She sat up quite suddenly, the seat lurching underneath her. "You can't get premonitions like that if nothing wrong is supposed to happen, right? So let's just stay in all night! I can sleepover if that's all good with Candace."

Candace was Tatianna's mother. "Of course it's all right. She'll be home late because of work. But sure. That's an interesting plan."

Outside, the evening had melted away that sense of euphoria and replaced it with a careful sleepiness. Darkness lazily dripped into the sky, painting it a beautiful array of blues and oranges and yellows. The winding side streets were boarded by full blooming trees, adding yet more color to the mix.

Délia unbuckled her seatbelt before they even pulled into the driveway, and leapt out of the car. Tatianna rolled her eyes and followed her, unlocking the door and letting both of them in. Immediately they were met with loud, needy screeches from the cage in the back.

"Oh, geez-" Tatianna kicked her flip-flops off and ran down the hall, into the living room where her cockatoo resided. He flapped his wings and puffed himself up and chewed on the cage. Hastily Tatianna opened it, extended a hand and the bird crawled up her arm to rest on her shoulder like a pirate.

"I'm sorry dear, we stopped for ice cream after school." She apologized, petting his head and walking back to where Délia was throwing her backpack down, at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey Fajro," She greeted the bird, who purred and leaned into her hand like a cat. "Come on, I wanna see that new game."

Together they bounded up the stairs, anxious to just sit and distract themselves from either the premonitions or the impending change. Tatianna set up the game, Fajro the bird pecked around the room, and Délia sat back and clicked her tongue.

There was nothing really to talk about that night. Alex was sleeping over a friend's house too, and Tatianna's mother was out late. So they blasted Délia's rap playlist on Spotify and aggressively played GTA all night. Once or twice Tatianna left to grab snacks - popcorn, potato chips, and big walnuts for Fajro. Fajro was an interesting bird. He's a large Major's Mitchell's cockatoo, almost reddish in color with white accents on his head and chest. Tatianna had had him for as long as she could remember, and spent all her time at home with him.

"Hey, Dee," She only glanced at her friend and laughed when her car went off a rail and flipped. "What do you think that voice was?"

"I don't know- oh-" She hissed as her stolen motorcycle skimmed a truck. "Close one. I don't know, Tat. You can interpret it your own way."

Downstairs, the front door clicked and opened. The two of them hadn't heard Candace's car pull in since the music was so loud, but turned it down as the door slammed shut. Candace slid off her flats and untied her hair before the girl's voices reached her.

"Hey, mom!" Tatianna shouted, pausing their game and standing, stretching. Fajro hopped onto her shoulder and nuzzled her as they descended. "Dee is staying over."

"Okay." She met her daughter with a hug. Fajro transferred onto her shoulder. "Hello, Fajro. Hello, girls. Have you eaten dinner? How was your day? Sorry I got home so late."

"Oh, it's fine," Délia answered. "I've been keeping her out of trouble."

"Good." Candace chuckled and handed the bird back with a final itch of the neck feathers. "You've eaten?"

"Yes, we've eaten." They hadn't really eaten. At least, not dinner. They'd eaten chips and popcorn and nothing humanly sustainable.

"What time is it?"

Délia checked her watch. "Eleven thirty."

"Oh, dear. You two should be going to bed." Candace glanced towards them and frowned. "Please get to bed soon. You two need rest."

"We're seventeen, mom." Tatianna chuckled. "We'll go to bed, though. I'm exhausted."

Délia opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but her nerves got the better of her and she clammed up. A hand slid through her chestnut brown hair and she bit her lip. Tatianna, on the other hand, seemed all too relaxed as she yawned and scratched her wrist. Her eyes drooped under so much strain in front of the tv, and her muscles ached from sitting so long. The lights flickered in the ceiling. Délia flinched.

"Do you mind if we go to bed now, ma?" Tatianna sniffed and stepped down the short hall, moving Fajro from her shoulder to her hand and settling him back into his cage. With a last smile and a kissy noise, she swept the green cover over his cage and looked to her mom. Candace opened a package of chocolate trail mix and shook her head.

"Not at all, honey. Do you or Délia want some tea?" She spun on her heel, opened the cabinet, and looked to her daughter before she grabbed mugs.

"Dee, you want tea?" She called back to where she resided at the stairs. A, "Nah," echoed back and Tatianna added, "Me neither. Night mom."

"Love you, honey!"

"Love you."

The two girls bounded up the stairs with some residing energy. Délia saved and turned off the game while Tatianna set up an air mattress next to her bed. The windows were dark, pitch black and ominous. Tatianna shut the drapes. She hates the dark. Outside, bats shot across the sky like little winged bullets, their black fur glistening momentarily under the moon's light. There were distant clinks of dishware being moved downstairs, Candace unloading the dishwasher. Tatianna tied her long blond hair up in a loose bun, splashed cold water on her face, and brushed her teeth. Over and over she thought, "everything's fine, everything's fine..."

Narrator's Note:

You probably have no idea what Tatianna looks like, do you? Picture peace, living peace;

A waterfall of naturally bleach-blond hair, falling like pale liquid gold over her shoulders. Lightly tanned skin, devoid of freckles or acne or any blemishes at all, perfectly shaped eyebrows and shapely lips. Her eyes were windows into her soul, green like a newly born leaf, a healthy, pure green that filled you with serenity when you looked upon them. And she was tall, the kind of tall that accentuated her thin, muscular legs, a lean abdomen and long arms. She moved like a queen. And she held herself like a goddess.

Tatianna and Délia laid in their beds silently, staring at the ceiling. Tatianna thought about the voice, the voice, while Délia thought about her mission, the change, and trying to figure out what was possibly wrong. Neither of them knew what the other thought. Even thought they were connected.

Tatianna found herself sifting through thoughts, old dusty files she hadn't dug up for years. It brought her deeper and deeper into a sleep, and in that sleep, dreams opened up.

It was nothing like she'd ever seen before. This was no dream, no hidden message, but rather a smoky riddle, brought to her by one she didn't even remember. It was feeling, raw feeling; she could feel the wind and the rain on her skin, the moistness of the air and whipping of her hair around her head. And it was smell, the musky smell of a rainy day, and it was taste, the sticky, phlegmy taste of an unwatered throat. And it was sight.

All around her were people. Her people. They were tall, all of them, at least six and a half feet, and wore nothing but one cloth wrapped around their waists and chests, though they varied in color and intricacy. Hair was the color of gold and silver and shades of deep chestnut and black, and even some a natural navy or red, or a dark green or purple. And there were voices, too. So many voices. Weaving through each other, entering and exiting her thoughts in moments much too short, incessant in their urgency and turning to shouts in her ear as time wore on.

There was something in the sky. It was darker than the word could ever describe, and a darkness so powerful it would bring a grown human to their knees. The inky shadow of it looming over the world carried something close to a cataclysm, stifling any thought of escaping or fighting.

And there was a flood. This flood held the same asphyxiating puissance in it - if the sight of waves taller than skyscrapers didn't do you in first. Together the disaster tied Tatianna in fear, great fear, and her body paralyzed in place. Run, her brain screamed, run, RUN!, but there was no escaping.

"Where is it?" A voice rumbled the earth, deeper than any cavern and more powerful than any gun or bomb Earth possessed. "Where is it?"

Both the floodwater and the great darkness stopped directly in front of Tatianna, just before she started to scream. The people were all gone. They had vanished or were sucked up by some unknown force, and now it was just Tatianna that stood frozen as stone. And slowly, angrily, the black cloud formed into something human. No, not human- by Tatianna's standards she would call it an elf because she had pointed ears and that would be the only thing she would know how to describe her by. And the floodwaters changed too, but Tatianna did not even know what to call this one because though it did not have pointed ears and in shape looked like a human, it was clear it was not. He, or she, or they, had green hair, long and wavy and down to their waist, and the fibers were excessively decked in shells, and seaweed, and pearls. Their skin was tinted aqua, too, and seemed to never settle as solid skin; instead, it shifted just beneath the surface in glowing rivers of blue and green.

But the woman, the darkness... She cannot be described by words in the English language. Suffocating was her presence, choking and airless as space. Her skin was pale, too pale to be living, like a vampire, and her eyes were as silver and glowing as moons. Her hair was long and straight and black as obsidian. She wore a long cloak of black that dragged and on the ground behind her, ragged and stained.

"Vitswéth." She said, her voice shaking the earth. "You have it. Give it to me."

She stepped forward a bit, after receiving no answer, and at that little bit of movement Tatianna broke from her daze and stepped back. "Get away from me! What are you talking about? What's going on? Where am I?"

The green one chuckled and bared sharpened teeth. "Funny girl."

"I will not answer these questions." The woman crawled closer and closer, her cloak grasping at the ground like mangled fingers. "Where is it? Answer me, girl!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Tatianna barked and stumbled back against the cobblestone, falling backward and hitting her elbow. With a groan, she edged back farther, as far away as she could from those silver eyes.

In an instant, the sky flashed a bright blinding white. Everything evaporated around Tatianna, all but the stone beneath her and the pain in her elbow. The woman in black screamed and turned to dust, the green one snarling and following suit. Tatianna was trembling as she sat up. Never had she had a dream like this. Never had she felt such real pain, such raw sight and feeling and smell and taste in her sleep.

"Vitswéth," The voice said, the same voice from before, echoing like a bell through the empty courtyard. "Vitswéth, oh Vitswéth."

Her jaw shook as she spoke. "Who- who are you?"

A pause. That simple pause resonated such a mournful sorrow, such a deep regret, that Tatianna sunk deeper into the stone. "I suppose... You should not remember. Not yet. They say I am not allowed to show my face yet, either. My dear," Her pace picked up considerably as if she remembered something she was supposed to say. "My dear, Vitswéth, be aware. Be aware and be well. You will return to me soon."

Tatianna woke in a cold sweat. So many thoughts raced through her mind that she thought she'd have a heart attack, but there was one that stuck out so much more than the others:

Her elbow hurt.

OCs of mine - Tatianna Forrest and Ellen Marshall I think I might post the first chapter of this story, too. It turned out pretty good

Chapter Three

"For the love of- Stop pushing me!" The metro is a very crowded place, is it not? It's even more crowded during rush hour on a Tuesday. And even more unpleasant when you have three stranger's elbows poking into your side and an uptight British gentleman yelling in your ear. "Mon Dieu!" I shoved Jeremy just for good measures. "Would you shut up?" "Yeah, Vidya's claustrophobic, and she's being quieter than you." Jurgen grumbled. Jeremy sent us a last un-approving glare and looked out the dark window. Strangers took pictures of me and sent the rest of the group annoyed looks. That made me smile. Vidya stood close next to her brother, who towered over the crowd and held her steady as she swayed about. Svet was squeezed in next to me, Jeremy to her left in the midst of a few men in trench coats. It smelt like sweat and mixed discount perfume, which almost made me dizzy, but I was able to stay upright and conscious thanks to Svet. "Where the hell did you say Tom was?" Jeremy asked lividly after we had gotten off the metro. "Lyon." I thought. "Oui? That is what the tracker said." "I can't believe your father had a tracker." Vidya said. "I'm kind of glad he did." "It's creepy." Svet added in. "I wouldn't want a tracker on me." "Yeah well..." I almost mentioned how Tom technically belonged to papa, but decided to not mention it. "Shut up." "A-plus comeback there." She mumbled as we started up the stairs. It was cloudy and rainy in Lyon. The droopy atmosphere didn't make for a very good experience of the old city, as we just drifted from building to building. The map that was supposed to lead us to Tom flickered on and off, and eventually did something very strange indeed when we stopped for ice cream. We were all sitting at a picnic bench under the near-rainy sky, as I typed furiously on the keyboard of the tracking device and the rest licked ice cream absently. The coordinates were all right. Why the hell wasn't he showing up on the map? "Shit." I blurted. Banana ice cream dripped onto my fingers. They all look up at me. "What?" Vidya answered. "He isn't- he isn't here." I scrolled around Lyon once more. "He isn't here. How did he move so quickly?" "Check your house." Jurgen piped in. I scrolled to the Fontaine mansion. "How the hell..." "What is it? Is he there?" Jeremy said through a mouthful. "He wasn't there ten minutes ago. Now he is. There's no way he could have gotten there so quick, unless..." I trailed off. There was a factory in Lyon. It was huge, one of the biggest papa owned. If he was taken there, perhaps papa found him, then he either escaped or was taken there by helicopter by papa or that lady Heidi. What they were doing to him, what they could do... "Unless what?" Svet's voice slipped into my head along with the thoughts. "Unless papa found him. In which case we may already be too late. Or we could infiltrate the factory." I had dropped my ice cream, but I didn't know when. "Infiltrate? Why? And too late, for what?" I sighed. Maybe it was time I explained. "Papa built him, you know that?" They all nodded and shoved their faces in ice cream. "I don't know when Tom was really- I don't know how I'd say it- born? It could've been a long time ago. Anyways, apparently Tom- well, 396, was 'born' half-finished, so papa compensated by creating 519, who the other evil AI is. Because of that, I'm pretty sure, papa thinks Tom is dangerous and wants to keep him confined. If papa did find him already, then we're too late, and I might want to break into the factory and save Tom." They looked like they were waiting for more. "That's it." I persisted. "No." Jurgen leaned forward. "That's not all. Why did you father build Tom in the first place?" "I don't know. Don't ask me." I chuckled. I barely knew my father, but I wasn't about to tell them that. "'Cause it'd be cool to build in artificial being?" Jurgen didn't look to be satisfied with my answer, but stopped asking nonetheless. "So how are we supposed to know if he's safe or not?" I looked back down at the screen. How could I possibly know if he was safe or not? Papa could already be taking apart Tom. I pictured papa sitting on the couch wrenching apart Tom with screwdrivers and crowbars. "Oh!" I shrieked and began typing furiously on the keyboard. The security cameras around the mansion. I could hack into them and find Tom easily. "What'd you do?" Jeremy trying to look over the screen, just as I was able to get into every cam on the property. It didn't take long to find movement. "Found him. Wait," I zoomed in, "that's not Tom." "Let us see." Vidya complained and so I spun the screen around for them to see. They all leaned in to try and see the small blonde haired boy standing outside the front gates, holding onto the bars like he was in prison. "Who's he?" Svet narrowed her eyes. "He's just a child." "I know." I said. "I've never seen him in my life." "Then where is Tom?" Jurgen glanced up at me. "I don't know. He's supposed to-" And there he was. Tom walked onto the screen, ran, really, yelling at the boy, who just turned and started climbing the gate. "No- get down, boy!" His voice said and he grabbed for the kid. "NO!" The boy kicked at him and made it to the top of the large black gate. Then he simply sat there, watching Tom with a smug smile. "Who are you?" The boy asked. "If I tell you, will you get off the gate?" "Sure. But you have to come sit up here next to me." Tom sighed but climbed the fence with ease. "Kid, you know who I am." The boy smiled. "You were with that Fontaine girl." "So what?" Tom snapped. He didn't sound like himself; I felt all color drain from my face. Mstislav was taking control. "Calm down, mystery guy. I was just pointing it out. Why were you with her?" Tom went to jump down off the fence. "Get off or I'll make you. You know who I am, now you have to comply with my rules." "I don't have to. Who're you to tell me what to do?" "GET DOWN, CHILD!" The boy was so startled he fell back off the fence and landed on his back. All five of us gasped. "I told you." Mstislav swung over the fence with no effort and landed beside the boy. "What do you want with me?" The boy skittered away on the lush green grass. "You definitely aren't here 'cause you saw a little boy trying to climb a fence and thought it was dangerous. Speak up, mystery asshole." "You have a lot of nerve speaking to me like that." Mstislav lifted the boy by his collar harshly and forced him to stand. "But you are correct. Where is Claire? You came here for her." "I thought she'd be here. This is her house, after all." "Well you were wrong." Mstislav's eyes flared and he grabbed the boy again. "You must know somewhere else- how to find her!" The boy shrugged. "Not sure. Why'd you think I know?" Tom narrowed his eyes. But this wasn't Tom. It was Mstislav. "Because you have access to the internet. Look it up." He laughed, a sweet little titter. "Pal, that's not how the internet works." Something in Tom's face changed momentarily; he seemed to be fighting Mstislav. "Tell me, boy!" He lifted his hand to strike the small blonde boy, but I whipped the screen around to face me and typed in a coding. The water-powered stun guns I installed when I was eight still worked, and quite well. The line hit Tom in the shoulder and he froze for a short moment before completely collapsing. I didn't waste a moment to grab my phone and type in a number. Svet and Vidya leaned over to look a the screen and Jurgen and Jeremy stood to peek. "Greta!" I yelled into the phone. "Privet, Claire, are you well? When will you be returning home?" "Now. Send the helicopter immediately! I'm in Lyon with a few friends." "Yes yes. I will." She yelled away from the phone in Russian to another maid, presumably Agafia by the soft 'da'. Then Greta's voice returned to my ear. "Claire, what's wrong? Are you all right? What friends did you meet?" She gasped. "You are not at that nasty club again, are you?" "No no, I told you I wouldn't go back there. Just a few new friends, that's all." A thought popped into my mind. "Greta, I need you to do me a favor." I glanced at the screen again. Tom was face-down in the grass and the boy was banging on the front gates. I typed a code and another set of gates closed in front of those; these ones heavier and sound-proof, so no one would hear him. "Theres a little blonde boy and a boy about my age with brown hair at the front gate. Get them both inside as quickly as you can and lock all the doors and windows. All entrances and exits." There was a very short silence. No doubt Greta was questioning my antics. "I will. Claire, you must do me a favor as well, in return." "Of course." "Come home safe. I don't know what business you have gotten yourself into this time, but I will be here waiting for you." "Merci beaucoup, Greta. Je t'aime." "Ya lyublyu tebya." I hung up the phone and got to my feet. I could already hear a distant helicopter. Jurgen was still reaching for the screen, but Svet and Vidya and Jeremy were staring at me questioningly. "Who was that?" Svet asked. "Greta." I slid my phone in my pocket. "A helicopter is coming for us?" Vidya said. I nodded. "Who's Greta?" Jeremy stood next to Svet. "Greta's... Greta." I said. I found myself unable to explain what Greta's relation was to me. She wasn't simply a maid, of course. She could never just be a maid to me. "Claire." Jurgen was staring at the screen with urgency. "There's something wrong." I spun around the table to look at the screen. The outward gates, the ones I'd just closed, were opening with creaks and groans. Like there was someone or something pushing them open forcefully. I cursed and typed in codes to get the third set of doors to close, but they refused. There was an outward force stopping me. And the stun gun wasn't lasting all that long. As the little boy pounded on the slowly opening gates, one of Tom's arms began to move. In the corner of the screen, however, Greta and a three other maids (I couldn't make them out, the screen I had was a bit of a DIY project so the resolution wasn't great) ran to Tom's side and lifted him, and two maids hauled the boy away from the gates and started to pull him inside. The boy still struggled and screamed, but Tom just let Greta and the maid I recognized as Agafia drag him off screen and presumably into the mansion. The helicopter got closer and closer with each passing second, but it wasn't fast enough. That outward gate was getting pried open more and more, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Who was opening the gates? Papa? That woman, Heidi, perhaps? "Claire!" The helicopter was landing in the middle of the street, and Jurgen was pulling my arm. I grabbed the screen and made a beeline for the heli, despite the strong wind of the propellers. "Bonjour, Mademoiselle." The pilot said as Jurgen pulled me into the compartment. "May I ask why you called for the helicopter?" I fell onto Svet's lap we lurched upwards. She wrapped her arms around me securely. "A friend is- is in trouble. I have to get to the mansion as soon as possible." "Who is this fr-" "Enough, Claude! Focus on flying." We flew over a few people and a flock of very startled pigeons before we were able to make it high enough in the sky to fly fast. Svet still had her arms around my midsection, but with the butterflies fluttering inside me and the access fat (from breakfast, mind you) on my stomach, it was too tight. I nudged the human seatbelt off me. "Claire, what exactly happened to Tom?" Jeremy asked. I glanced at Claude, the pilot, before deciding it was fine to explain with a possible outside listener. This whole situation would probably be on worldwide news in a few days anyway. "You know the other one in him, 519? He took over Tom and almost hurt that boy, so I shot Tom with a stun gun I installed when I was eight. Apparently they still work." It seemed no one knew what to say for a moment. I glanced back down at the screen. A hand was reaching through the opening, a light brown hand and a black sleeve. Well, it wasn't papa. "So who was that lady on the phone?" Vidya grasped onto the wall with one hand and Jurgen with the other. "You said her name was Greta?" "She's just Greta." I sighed. "She's a maid I guess, but she isn't. Her and the other maids basically raised me." "So like, a nanny?" "No!" I said quickly, a little too aggressively. "I'm sixteen. I don't rely on her. She's just... There. I mean, they all work for me." This topic was quickly getting into the red-zone for me; I'd never spoken of my upbringing to anyone before, nor my relation with the maids, and I wasn't sure if it felt good or not to explain. "But you can do whatever you want, then?" Svet said from under me. "No, I'd never do something they told me not to. Unless I really disagreed." "Did they tell you not to go with Tom?" Jurgen joined in. "They didn't really say anything about it. I mean, I sometimes just leave for a few days, but I always check in and stuff." I thought about it. "Yeah. Never thought about it before, but it's kind of normal for me to disappear once in a while." Another short silence. "Where the hell is your dad then? Or your mom?" Jeremy leaned forward. I let out a bitter laugh. "Like I would know. Maman is usually in Paris or London or wherever work takes her, and papa is building missiles or any kind of weaponry in New York or Uzbekistan or- or Iran..." I paused. There was a war a while back, when I was a child. Papa had somehow created 'the ultimate warmonger' as I called it- a missile with incredible force. But of course, a group of terrorists got their hands on it, and they were able to create a huge area of territory in Iran by merely threatening locals and making them give up their homes. Papa had moved maman and I to a military base in Iran for safe keeping, so he could keep his eye on us, but... there were quite a few things about that stay that went wrong. I would not go back there right now. The mansion was visible in the distance, and grew closer with every passing second. I looked back at the screen. The hand was gone, and instead an entire person stood in its place. I recognized her immediately. The sky blue headscarf with shimmering golden swirls of detail, her warm golden skin and the red bindi on her third eye, and the black bodysuit and clawed gloves. Heidi. She looked around a bit, and turned and made perfect eye contact with me. Her piercing blue eyes cut right through the security camera and straight into my soul. A shiver snaked its way down each vertebrae in my spine. "Who is that?" Svet said over my shoulder. "Her name is Heidi." My palms started to sweat. "Faster, Claude! We might be too late..." The helicopter only sped up marginally, but it didn't matter much. I could see Heidi below without the screen. I got up off Svet's lap and stood at the opening in the compartment, leaning out and hanging on with one arm. If I fell, no doubt I'd break a few bones. As soon as the helicopter landed, I booked it. Heidi was no longer in the yard. "Claire!" Vidya caught up to me and matched her stride with mine. "What is going on?" "Tom is in danger!" A thought occurred to me, and I cursed. "And maman! She just came home from a show in Paris!" I ran faster than I have in my whole life. I was only vaguely aware of the four behind me, shouting my name and asking what was going on. My heart beat was faster than my feet on the earth and my breath became practically hyperventilation as I nearly tripped over a root. By the the time I was at the back door, my lungs were sore and my vision blurry, but that might have been the tears forming on my waterline. My entire body trembled, but I didn't know why. If maman was in danger, why did I care so much? I barely knew her. I stepped through the door; Heidi had left it open. "Maman! Tom, where are you?" There was a deep rumble of laughter around the corner, in the dining room. Mstislav. I quickly turned the corner, and at the dining table stood Tom at the very end (still missing an arm), smiling wickedly, and Heidi beside him with an eerily similar smirk. I followed Tom's outstretched hand, and found my mother's throat at the end of his fingertips. "Maman!" I stepped forward, but Tom tightened his grip and maman choked. "Not any closer." Mstislav's voice said. "I found the culprit, girl. It was your dear mother who stole my arm, not just Heidi." "Tom?" I whimpered. "I know you're in there. Talk to me, Tom. What's going on?" "I'll tell you what's going on." Heidi leaned against the cabinet that held an 1800s bellows. "My associate here, Madame Fontaine, was somehow found guilty for theft. I was just about to stop this cruel punishment before you arrived. Tom, put her down please. I don't need you hurting this valuable pawn." "I'm not- a pawn!" Maman croaked out. Tom cocked his head, maybe wondering if he should let her go, and tossed her away from the table. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled to my side hastily, and I enveloped her in a hug. She smelt like fancy Chanel perfume. Chanel perfume. Where had I smelt this before? Not on her, she changes her smell just about every month, or whenever a company puts out a new expensive perfume. "You were there, Claire." Mstislav's voice sounded harsh when be spat my name. "You know what we found on the windowsill of our room in the hostel. Scratch marks and Chanel perfume." My breath caught in my throat. "Framed." I managed. "Heidi- you- you framed her." "I didn't need to." She said, readjusting her headscarf. "She came along willingly. Seems she doesn't like her husbands suspicious behavior either." "I'm getting bored here, Claire." Tom rolled his eyes and sat at the head of the table. "Would you fetch the meal, Heidi?" But she didn't need to. Greta skittered through the doorway to the dining room, tape across her mouth and holding a silver platter of croissants. She was shaking. That was when I lost it. You can break into my house, hold my mother hostage, and claim theft, but even put your filthy hands on my maids... "YOU SCUM!" I let go of maman and threw an antique chair from the table. Heidi dodged it and it shattered against the wall. Tom remained calm, hands folded. Heidi went to grab Greta, but I ran and made it to her first. "Claire, do not make this difficult." "What do you want from me?" I hissed and carefully peeled the tape off Greta's mouth. "Take anything! They are only things!" I turned suddenly and grabbed Tom's collar. "But keep your hands off my family." Tom stood and complied with my grabbing. "Heidi, what did we come here for?" There was a short silence. Greta was quietly crying. "I know what I came for, Tom, but it isn't the same as what you came for." She said. Her hand was on something in her pocket. "Claire, step away from him." "Why should I?" I tightened my hold on Tom's collar. "He tied up Greta!" "No no, you are clearly mistaken. That was me. Now step away." In a bit of surprise, I let go of Tom and stepped back once. Heidi took that chance, and pulled out a gun. And aimed it at Tom's head. "What are you-?" Tom's face flickered normal for half a second. "Heidi, we had a deal." "You know, I didn't really feel like following up on that. I don't want Claire, she's useless to me. I need you, Tom. Your memory card specifically." I ushered Greta out of the room. "What is going on here?" Jurgen, of anyone, stepped forward. "Lower the gun and step back." "What do you have to stop me, boy?" A second gun joined the party. It looked different, home-made even. Where the hell did Jurgen pull that from? "Very tricky." Heidi mocked. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting that. Are you even licensed?" "Yes. Are you?" She laughed so hard her eyes watered and she had to lean over. "Honey, I'm a four-star general in the American army. Who are you?" Jurgen, quiet little Jurgen, had a gun in his back pocket? And- Tom? What happened to Tom? Maman stealing the arm? I'm surprised I didn't just faint. I'd have to say, the most surprising thing was when Maman forked the gun straight out of Heidi's hand. Not kidding. She threw a fork with pin-point accuracy at the gun, and it flew across the room. "Damn." Heidi just smiled, like this was all a game. "Fine then. I'll be back, I can promise you that." Before we could say anything, she smashed through the window and was gone. Tom had a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter Two

"Pass the peas, please." I picked up the small bowl and passed it over. "It's Jeremy, right?" "Yes yes." He spooned peas onto his plate. Jeremy was tall, had dark skin, was undeniably British and just meant to visit for one summer (it's been almost three summers). He looked super tough, with his white Nike sweatshirt and sagged pants and Jordans, but he spoke like a scholar. "I'm the room across from you. The only quiet one in this whole bloody place." "Well sorry." Svetlana spat. She was Russian, pale as snow, but had dark cat-eye eyeliner and violet streaks in her blond hair. She looked like she'd start a mosh pit at any moment. "Isn't my fault I like music loud. Headphones broke." Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So, Tom, is it?" Tom nodded. "You're from where?" "America." "Where in America?" His eyes flickered. "Wyoming." Jeremy looked at me. "Quite the talker, isn' he?" I laughed and kicked him under the table. "Must be tired." Vidya stopped her whisper-yelling with her brother (who introduced himself first as Jörgen, but insisted on just being called Jurgen). Vidya almost looked like a model, because of her curled sandy blond hair and steely grey eyes, and perfect slightly tan porcelain skin. Jurgen had similar sandy blond hair, swept to the left, and the same hard grey eyes, except he had a few acne scars across his cheeks and there was a black grease stain on his shirt. "You gonna eat that?" Vidya pointed at the bread on Tom's plate. "No. You can have it." He handed it over. "Sweet." She bit into it. "So, what happened to your arm?" Jurgen whacked her arm. "Vidya, stop that!" "No no, it's fine." Tom said. "I have a... Uh, fake arm. It's getting fixed." "Cool. Is it, like metal?" He nodded. "Yeah. Mechanical." "I bet it's from that damn Fontaine company, then?" Vidya stuffed the rest of the roll in her mouth. "I hate it. That daughter especially. She's so snobby and preppy. I hate 'er." "She's not snobby!" I said immediately. "I mean, kinda, but she's not worth hating." Vidya scoffed. "She literally called a reporter a peasant. Remember that?" "The reporter was asking too many personal questions." "Anyways," Svetlana butt in, chewing corn, "how long are you guys staying here?" I looked at Tom. "A few days." He said. "I think." I nodded. "A few days." "So," Vidya said, sitting up, "what's your business in Nice?" "How about we talk about you guys a little, huh?" I shifted in my chair. "We already know about us. Tom's from Wyoming. He's got a fake arm. And he's being unusually quiet tonight. I'm French. What else is to know?" Tom shot me a look. "Uh, everything. Heck, I don't even know you're name!" Vidya said. "I'm an open book. Ask away." Tom stood up. "Excuse us for a moment." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. "Tom, before y-" "Before I say what? That you're blowing our cover?" He looked around. "Claire, look at me. I didn't even know I had gotten hurt. You know why I had woken up? Because your father programmed me that way. He can shut me off anytime and I don't have control over it. We need to stay under cover so he doesn't find us. If you blow it, everyone will know. You're the second most famous person on Earth." "Tom, I-I'm sorry, I just-" "If you're uncomfortable, then act! Because if they know, I will die. Okay? I'll die. You need to get it together." "Don't you think I'm trying?" I whisper-yelled. "I've never done anything like this before!" He looked angrier than before, but closed his eyes and sighed deeply, then took a step closer to me. "Think of them as some of your father's richie rich guests, for all I care. You're a great human, Claire, but get it together. It'll be your own fault if you blow this and I die. Okay? Get it together." I bit my cheek, then punched him in the shoulder. He dropped to the ground, not even able to speak in pain. I forced him to his feet and pushed him up the stairs. When I got to our room, I pushed him on the bed. He opened his clenched eyes just for a second to see his own arm directly in front of him. "C-C-C-Clair-e-" He looked up at me. "Wh-why-?" "You do not tell me to get it together. I spent my own time fixing your arm. You will not speak to me like that." I leaned over the bed. "Nighty night." He looked panicked, but I just poked his wrist and he went limp. Back at the table, I acted normal. A few hours, maybe three, had passed before I realized what had gotten into me. Why had I been so awful? Well, I did have the right to. He was being terrible too. "So," Vidya started, "You and Tom, are you like... A thing?" I froze. "No, no. We aren't." He raised her eyebrows. "No, I promise! Really." I sat back. "Actually, I should go and check on 'im. 'E was pretty exhausted." I stood up, and they all groaned. "I'd better be going too." Jeremy stood up next to me. "We'll see all of you in the morning." "See you." I waved just a little and walked up the stairs, as to not seem strange to Jeremy. We said goodnight and parted ways in the hall, and as soon as he was gone, I flung open the door in a panic. He was still laying on the bed in a unnatural position. The arm. It was gone. I shut the door behind me and poked his wrist, then shook him until he woke up. As soon as he saw me, he leapt off the bed, stumbled in the sudden pain, and backed against the wall. "I-I'm sorry. Please, just-just... I'll do anything. Just d-don't hurt me." "Tom, Tom, I'm sorry. Really. I don't know what came over me. I-I don't want to hurt you. We were both just angry." I looked around. "We can't focus on that now. Your arm-it's-it's... gone." He stared at the place on the bed where it was, then sunk to the floor. "Useless... It's all useless..." "Tom, none of this is-" "Stop calling me that!" He shouted. "If you're my master, it's 396. Call me 396!" "That's not your name and I'm not your master." His eyes flickered and he closed them quickly. In my voice, "You will not speak to me like that. Nighty night." "Stop that. I was just angry, I'm not your-" This time, it was my father's voice. "And you, 396, will protect Claire with your life. She will be your master if needed." "STOP IT!" I yelled. It went completely silent. "I didn't- I didn't mean for any of this to-to-happen-" "But it did." Tom stood up. "Take me back. Shut me off and take me back to your father. There I will fulfill my duties as a slave." "No. I'm going to get your arm back, and we will get away from here. Now stand up." He stood. "I'm sorry." "No. You shouldn't be. You had every right to be angry, but I was out of line. I shouldn't have used you like a machine." "But I am-" "You know what I meant." I looked around, and found the window open. "Aha." I walked over to it and searched around. Tom didn't walk over. He didn't help. He just stayed where he was, shaking against the wall. I found scratch marks around the edges of the window. Someone must've climbed through and stolen the arm while Tom was passed out. "Why would someone go through the trouble to climb to the second floor and through a window, just to steal your arm and not you?" I turned to face Tom. I stopped. This wasn't going to work if he thought I was his master. I walked over to where he was sitting and sat down next to him. "I'm not like my father." I said after a short moment of silence. "I don't know what he did to you, but clearly it wasn't anything good. I... I don't want to hurt you. I'm not your master, you have no master. You're your own being." I turned to him. "I'm sorry. Can we please be over this so I can help you out?" He looked up slowly. He didn't speak for a while. "You have complete control over me." "What?" I looked up. I was about to stand up and look around more. "You control me." He looked right into my eyes. "You can just push a button and turn me off. You can reprogram me. You could break my memory card. Anything. I can't do anything to you." I stood. "Get up." "What?" "Up!" He stumbled to his feet. "Punch me." He stared at me. "Wha-?" "I said punch me. Right here, in the stomach." "I can't." "And why the hell not?" He sighed. My father's voice projected again. "You can't hurt Claire. Protect her with your life. She can't get injured at all. You're nothing. She is everything." I didn't know how to respond. "Just try." "I can't." I sighed. "Well," I stepped closer to him. "You aren't nothing, and I'm not everything. Well, at least not all the time." He stared at me, then scoffed and started laughing. He fell to the floor. "What?" I shouted. "What! What did I say?" I stomped my foot when he didn't answer. "Tom!" "You-" He wiped tears from his eyes. "You ruined this whole thing! You are so-so full of yourself!"  "Excuse me?" I shook him. "Tom, I thought you were scared of me?" He stopped himself just a little and looked me right in the eye. "I-I knew you didn't mean to hurt me. We were both angry." "Wait, but... You don't care?" He put his head back and sighed. "No. I trust you not to do it again. But you know now that it's not... It's not... Good. I knew you'd feel bad, that's all that matters." I nodded. "I'm any case, we need to find your arm." "The simple answer to that is, we can't." "What? Why not?" "One, we don't know who took it, two, whoever did is a psychopath, and three, the backup arms are all at your father's workshop. It's basically as heavily guarded as the pentagon." "How do you know all this?" "Look at the window. No human makes scratch marks. She was wearing clawed shoes, and gloves too, to climb the building." "Clawed?" I thought. "I guess so, but how do you know it's a woman?" "Perfume. She's rich, too. It's Chanel." "You know perfumes now, do we?" "I looked it up while you were talking. Just took a few seconds. Actually, hold on a minute." His eyes went blank, but he didn't go limp like he was shut down. I was confused. He was just acting to be scared, just to see if I felt bad? I guess that makes sense, but he played me. "I know who." He said. I shook out of my thoughts and looked up. "Who?" "Her name is Heidi Lécuyer. Former secret agent in America. She disappeared in 2024." "Secret agent?" I said. "Why would she steal your arm? And how'd you know that?" "I scanned the Internet for rich women trained to scale buildings and I narrowed it down to her. She's definitely our bet." "Where in America was she?" "Not important." "Not important? You know what, I need to see a picture of her, this seems all too familiar." "Hold on a second." His eyes faded out for a second, and after a minute they started glowing. A projection of a lady with brown hair, green eyes, and tan skin appeared on the wall. She was Indian and had a headscarf on. A bindi dotted her forehead. She was familiar. "I knew it." I said. "She's been at a few of my papa's meetings. Though I do remember her just not coming after a while." Tom shut off the projection and stood up, straightening his vest. "You'd better go to sleep." "What will you do all night?" "Research. Don't worry about it, if something happens, I'll wake you." I stared at him for a moment. I sat down on the bed, glanced at the clock to see it was very late, and flopped down on my back. "You really aren't mad?" He didn't answer. "Tom?" I sat up. He was stiff laying on the floor with his hand at his side and his legs together. "Tom!" I stood up. His eyes were dim. I shook him. "Claire?" His eyes un-faded and he sat up. "What is it?" "What just happened?" "Oh, just researching. I thought you were going to sleep." "I-I was." I stood up and laid on the bed. "You don't have to lay on the floor. You can sit up here if you want." "No, you can have all the room you want, my queen." He said with a cocky wink. I sat up quickly, but he was already gone. I smiled as I fell asleep, my dreams dancing with flowers and golden statues. It took a dark turn quickly. "CLAIRE!" "Why's she left? What happened?" "I don't know... Wait- Jeremy, Jeremy- look." "They're back!" "No, Jurgen, look... She's- she's alone..." "Vidya stop. Look closer. Of course Tom is with her." "She's crying. What- CLAIRE! Claire, what happened?" "'E's gone! 'E's-!" "What? Claire, slow down. Please, what happened?" "It's Tom! 'E-!" "Where's Svet?" "She isn't- isn't with you? Where-where- SVET!" "No no, Claire, slow down. It's okay-" "It isn't! It's Tom- he-he's-" "KIDS! HOW MANY ARE WITH YOU?" "Where's Tom?" "I don't- I don't know-" "HOW MANY?" "Four!" I couldn't see a single thing but blood and fire. I stumbled through a building that was only mildly familiar, Jurgen and Vidya and Jeremy by my side. They looked terrible. Jurgen had a black eye and blood seeped from a cut on Vidya's eyebrow. Jeremy's hand bleed profusely. Worst of all, I didn't know where Svet or Tom were. I woke up in cold sweat. I didn't make a noise as I folded to blanket off me and sat up. What was that about? But I seemed to forget the nightmare as soon as I saw Tom. He was against the side of the bed, staring out the window. His golden eyes glistened in the early sun. His hair was ruffled and a stuck out every which way. However, despite the beautiful glow he had, his face showed fear. He stood up suddenly and I laid back down and shut my eyes. After a second, I peeked. He was against the window, grasping onto the sill with his one hand like his life depended on it. He was trembling. "Stop it." He said. "Please. She'll be awake soon." I almost got up to show him I already was, when another voice filled the room. "Oh 396," it said, much deeper than Tom's American accent, "why can't you just kill her yet?" I took a sharp intake of air. Fortunately I wasn't heard. "Because she hasn't done anything!" Tom said, trying to stand up straight. "Stop! You can't control me! You aren't even supposed to be here." He ended his sentence sounding scared. More than he already was, at least. "I'm only here because you need me. Don't you, Tom?" "Don't call me that!" "You're so whiny. Fine than 396, tell me why you need me." "I don't need you." "Tell me." "I can't." "TELL ME, 396!" "BECAUSE I'M TOO WEAK!" There was a short silence, than a deep rumbling laugh. "Yes you are. Too weak for this body. Me, however? Tell me." He mumbled something inaudible. "Tell me now!" "Because you're too strong!" "Ah yes." There was more rumbling. "I am too strong for this body. We need each other, don't we 396?" "Yes. We do. You know I'll get my own body someday." The voice laughed hardest at this. "Believe that if you will. I know I will prevail." Tom collapsed to his knees and breathed heavily, and I knew that- that voice had left. Even though I was terrified and very, very worried about him, I didn't get up. I didn't know why. I wanted to, but my body just didn't let me. I laid as still as a rock in the bed, my eyes closed and my thoughts racing. I analyzed just about every little thing I heard in that strange conversation. Tom woke me up a few hours later, at eight. I pretended to be sleeping the whole time. "Claire." He shook me. "Hey. It's time for breakfast." I stirred. "Uggggh... You go down, I'll meet you there..." He tore off the covers and I shrieked. "'Ey!" He picked me up and slung me over his shoulder like a fireman, then brought me to the hallway. He set me down when someone opened their door. "Oh. Privet, Claire, Tom." It was Svet. "Going down to eat the breakfast?" I chuckled and rubbed sleep out of my eye. "Yeah. You slept well?" She nodded and walked down the stairs in front of us. We were met with a sad assortment of breakfast foods. The scrambled eggs tasted funny, and the sausages were cold. "Did you sleep well, Claire?" Jeremy asked, spreading butter on the stale bread. I scowled at the food and bit into a pancake. It was a little hard. "Yes. Well." He nodded in acknowledgement. "I would've slept well if it hadn't been for the ruckus coming from certain punk's room." "I'm an insomniac, what you wanting from me?" Svet shrugged. "You missed a fun time last night, Tom. Too bad you went to bed." Jurgen said through a mouthful of eggs. Tom went pale. "Yes, well, I guess I just couldn't stay awake." "So Jurgen," I start, wanting the spotlight off us for the first time in my life, "where in Sweden did you and Vidya live? Are you on vacation here, for the summer?" "Stockholm." He grumbled. "Too cold. Our family sucked ass. So one day we straight up left." I didn't know what to say. "Nice way to ruin the atmosphere." Vidya said after the silence settled. "Get that look off your face. Who cares about the past if we're happy now?" "Cause that's just awful." I blurted. "I'm so sorry." "Don't be." She smiled. "It's all good. We have money and food and shelter and friends. It's not like we're homeless." "Anyways," Svet said, "what TV series do you guys watch?" After discussing numerous shows, movies, and music interests (Svet's into metal, hip hop, and punk, Jeremy likes jazz, Jurgen likes rap, and Vidya loves almost wordless songs and club remixes), we had finished our breakfast. I was about to butt in to the conversation when I heard Tom mumbling to himself. "Just kill all of them." It was that voice from before. I glanced at him and found him to be shaking. "Stop. You'll blow our cover. You're always doing this. Just calm down." Tom whimpered. "Don't tell me to calm down. I could just shut you down and kill her. Oh how I'd love to." "You know you can't do that." "But I can." "You're incomplete too. Don't forget you need me." Tom's chair skittered back as he shot to his feet. The talking died down. "Tom? You okay?" Jeremy looked quite concerned, the mood being quickly changed. A second ago he was annoyed. "I DON'T NEED YOU!" The voice said. "Tom-" I started. "SHUT IT, GIRL!" I shut my mouth. "You shut it." Svet said through gritted teeth. "Do not talk to her that way." "Oh, I see!" The voice laughed. "You love her, don't you!" Tom grabbed me and put me in a headlock. They all stood up. "Let go of her!" Vidya said. Tom's face flickered normal for a second. When he spoke, it was his original voice. "Stop it please. I'm sorry." "No you aren't! Let's see how you can work by YOURSELF!" Tom looked terrified. "NO!" In a split second, he grabbed the tendon in his neck and collapsed. I scrambled away from him, and Svet brought me into a hug. "What the hell just happened?" Jurgen said, pissed off with the rest of us. A projection hit the ceiling. I looked up, pulling away from Svet. It was all black, except for white letters in the center. "I'm sorry", it read.  I looked back down at Tom. He still had that horrified look on his face, but wasn't moving. I took a step towards him, trembling. "Tom? Who was that?" He merely blinked, projecting another message. "519." "Who is 519?" He blinked. "The second one." "EXPLAIN THIS PROPERLY, TOM." His body twitched. A finger lifted. "Too open. Our room." I glanced at the others, who were all staring at him in complete awe, than walked even closer to Tom and picked him up. "No! No, put it down!" Jeremy said. "You read it. To our room." I ignored him and dragged him around the corner and up the stairs. I heard whispering behind me, but they followed eventually. By the time they were in our room, I had propped up Tom against a wall so he could project to the other wall. "What just happened?" His eyes flickered from me to each friend standing behind me. His mouth slowly opened. "I." He said slowly. He sounded different. "Am. So. Sor-ry." "Explain what happened. And earlier this morning, when you thought I was asleep." He stared at me dumbly, realization dawning on his face. He blinked and projected onto the opposite wall. "Tell them about us first. We can trust them." I pursed my lips. "You're sure." He nodded twice within a minute. And so I did. I told them all about how Tom was an AI, how we fled from Monaco to avoid my father, and the police incident. Why Tom really had no arm and who we think took it. "Impossible." Jeremy said. "Prove it." I thought, then got an idea and picked up a pen. "Tom, may I?" All emotion drained off his face. He nodded hesitantly. We all huddled around him, and I guess the spot where the buttons rolled out. I poked, and out came the DVD like tray. "Woah. Now that's high tech." Vidya said. I glanced at Tom. His eyes were squeezed shut. I clicked the red button with my pen, and his arm popped off. Despite his late reaction screams, I turned him so they could see literally inside him. The view from his arm wasn't as dense as you thought it would be on such a complicated piece of technology. Numerous wires and metals were strung inside of him. "I can't believe it." Jurgen said, and the rest nodded. "Why is he screaming?" Svet asked, very concerned. "IT- HURTS-" Tom said, looking at me angrily. "How do I get it back on?" I said, slowly becoming panicked. "There- are- parts to- to click- in- each- other-!" I studied it, finding each connection. Carefully, I reconnected his arm. There was an awkward silence that filled the room. "Tell them." Tom said, out of breath. "Who. You. Are." I sighed. "I hadn't told you guys?" They shook their heads, backing up. "No no, it's nothing bad." "Who are you?" Jeremy asked, swallowing nervously. "I only lied about my name, that's all. I'm still sixteen." "Who are you?" He repeated. "My name is Claire de la Fontaine." There was a short silence. "No way." Jurgen said. "You're too nice." "I am nice!" I pouted. "I am Claire though. Pleasure to meet you." "I already knew it." Vidya said. She was grinning widely. "I knew it all along." "Yeah, we all agreed on it. But I didn't think it was actually true." Jurgen said. "You agreed on it?" I asked. "When?" "When you and our 'mom with a bedtime' here went to bed, we badgered 'im to come down and chat about you. It's not easy to figure it out. Besides, we didn't want to disappoint our little fan." He eyed Svet. She was suddenly blushing. "What?" I said, completely out of the loop. "She's a big fan." Vidya nudged her. "I just think you're pretty." She looked down. "She thinks you're very cute." I smiled. "Well thank you." Svet opened her mouth to say something when Tom grabbed my ankle. I looked back and saw him staring at me with wide eyes. "Turn. Me off." He said softly. "Why?" "The- pain. Off. Please." My heart pounded. "Please." I leaned over and pressed his wrist. He collapsed on the floor next to me. "On that note," Jeremy said, "how about some tea?" --- "So, you mean to say that you're never going home? You'd leave your family for an AI you just met, what, yesterday?" Jeremy said, sipping his herbal tea in between sentences. "Well, I don't know about never going home..." I thought about the four floors of heaven, the food that got brought out on silver platters, and the endless wardrobes of Chanel, Prada, and Couture. "It sounds like you'd be on the run for quite a while, then." Vidya sounded sad. "I'd hate for you to end up like us, especially 'cause you had a good thing going back home." I sighed. "Yeah. I did." Then I remembered how papa was never home and I spent my childhood with maids that barely spoke French. It was one of my secrets I never told anyone; I learned English and Russian before French. But I couldn't complain to them. I had more privilege, and a better home, good food, more than the basic needs... And inexistent parents. "So," Jeremy continued, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had filled the room, "what exactly is your plan to keep Tom away from your father? Are you going to leave Nice at some point?" "I suppose we will leave soon." I thought. "We can't stay here forever." "But do you have a plan?" All emotion wiped off my face. "No." I said blankly. "He never told me." I stood up quickly. He needed to explain, and now. I don't like it when people don't tell me the whole story. I turned from the table and started walking to our room. What if he was just using me? To get away from papa? He'd barely told me anything about himself. He hadn't even told me where and when we were going! Is he just going to be like one of those fans who are too nice, then I befriend them and they just use me for my money or my house or my fame? Is this how this is going to turn out? "Tom!" I yelled as I flung open the door. I needed answers, and now. The room was empty. I cursed loudly and ran around the room, tearing the covers off the bed, looking through the closet, and getting down on the floor and looking under the bed. Tom wasn't here. I cursed again and got off the floor, brushing myself off. I looked around quickly, starting to panic. He couldn't have just left. He was turned off. He can't turn himself back on. Unless... Unless someone kidnapped him. "Claire?" Jurgen said in the doorway. "Is everything alright?" "No!" I yelled back, continuing to look around frantically. Then I froze. I was wondering where that breeze had come from. The window. I had shut it hours ago. I looked closely at the windowsill and area around it. Scratches. More than before. I cursed loudly again and turned to the others. "What? What is it?" Svet asked worriedly. "Tom. He's- he's gone."

Mim - space wizard - for a book idea My biggest problem when sketching is that I don't know when to stop. This started out as just a single Mim sitting on her bed, and then I had to add essentially every other thing that she owned in her space capsule

Chapter One

All the following events are recorded as accurately as possible. Any missing or incorrect information is correct now! Shut up you weren’t there you don’t know what you’re talking about.

This is how I imagine this conversation going:

“Paul! Listen to me, please!” “Lydia, please. Think about this! She can’t take over this company! She’s too- too- immature. Incompetent. She has no interest in running a technology manufacture!” “She is not incompetent. You’re the one whose acting incompetent!” “We need someone to hand this over to! This company is my life, I can’t just give it over without thought!” “I’m not having another child, Paul. It’s my body and I get to decide. The answer is no.” “Darling, I love you. Please.” “Don’t play that on me now! Just build a son if you want one that bad.” “What do you think I’ve been doing in the lab so much lately? I can’t get it right. I’m already on Mark 158. None have worked.” “Than keep trying. Because my answer is no.” “I just can’t build a son, Lydia. Artificial intelligence is only something that can happen in movies.”

———

I was born into the richest family in the world, in the richest country in the world. My name is Claire de la Fontaine. I live in Monte-Carlo, Monaco, primarily, and my papa runs three casinos and the largest weapon, defense, and technology manufacture in history. Of course, we’re multi-billionaires, and papa is always busy, so I have lots of time to myself. At a young age, I took a liking to his more child-friendly inventions; like robotic horses and self-clothing machines. However, my favorite became, years later of course, a prototype. His name was Tom. Let me explain Tom for a second. Tom is the first robot to have artificial intelligence. Charming, kind, helpful, and honest were always good traits, but Tom didn’t have them. Tom was rebellious. He had no time for charm, although he certainly was helpful (to me). He was smarter than a mathematician but couldn’t keep conversations going. In other words, he was just like an awkward teenager. Anyways, my adventure began sometime in mid-August of 2029. This is an adventure, you know. So buckle up and listen, because it’s about to get crazy. My adventure didn’t start out very exciting. But I guess some of the best adventures didn’t start out very exiting. Like The Hobbit, or… Well, I don’t know. I don’t read much. But you get my point? It gets pretty intense, trusty me. Just wait two or three chapters. I woke up in a bad mood. I had a bad dream that night, but I’m not sure of what. The reason I was in a bad mood was because I had been stressed lately. The horses had woken me up twice that week because they were spooked, and one of the maids had set my comforter the opposite way, so the tag waggled in my face. It was stressful. “Greta!” I yelled and sat up in my bed. She burst into my room a second later, out of breath and babbling. “Greta, my sheets again! And the horses, they were spooked!” I looked at her expectantly, and she pulled the covers off me and stood me up. “Where is papa?” “He is at a meeting, Mademoiselle.” She replied quickly and grabbed my bathrobe and pulled it around me. “We have breakfast ready downstairs, just how you like it.” “Good.” I said and began to walk to the elevator. I wasn’t going to walk down all the flights of stairs, mind you. I’d have to walk down four flights, and that’s a bit much. When I arrived in the dining room, I found mama there, already halfway through breakfast. “Maman,” I grumbled and sat across from her. “You started without me.” “You were taking too long.” She said after finishing chewing croissant. “You know, you’ve been getting lazier lately. Go take a ride on one of the horses after you eat.” “They don’t deserve it.” I shot back. “They’ve woken me up the past few nights. Something is spooking them.” “Papa is working on it.” She said quietly. “Oh is he?” I grabbed a chocolate-filled croissant and ripped of a piece angrily. “You really shouldn’t eat those things you know. Go straight to your hips.” “Like you would know.” I mumbled. “I’m much fatter than you.” “Oh, don’t start that again. You’re sixteen and you’re like 110 pounds.” “I am not!” “Okay, but you were 145 last time we went to the doctors.” “So what!” I looked around for a maid and saw the American, Jim. “Jimmy, am I fat?” He looked up suddenly from his cleaning and smiled. “Of course not, Mademoiselle Fontaine.” I gave him a look, but before I could say anything, maman just scoffed and dotted her mouth with her napkin and stood up. “Go ride Georges. He’s your favourite.” She turned to Jim. “Clean this up after she has had only a parfait. No more of those croissants for her.” “Maman!” I called after her. “Jimmy, don’t listen to her. You know, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but she’s going crazy. They even gave her pills.” “Like I haven’t heard that one before.” Jim said and cleaned up around me, only leaving a parfait. “Wait!” I said. “This one has a weird strawberry.” After breakfast I did as mama told and went out to the stables, of course after getting dressed. I found Georges, a three year old Knabstrupper sire with brown spots, with the help of one of the groundkeepers of course. I decided I wanted to take him down to the bay, where our yacht was. As I was walking along the sidewalk, two men ran up to my horse, one holding a camera. I swore under my breath and tried to fix my hair. “Mademoiselle Fontaine! How do you respond to the events of last night?” The man without the camera said, thrusting a microphone under my chin. “Excuse me?” I raised my eyebrows and refused to get off Georges’ back. “What happened last night?” They looked taken aback. “You don’t know- the- the horses, what happened with the horses-?” I froze, then slid off Georges’ back. “Listen mister, if you know what happened, I am ordering you to tell me. My papa will not tell me, nor will my mama. Now speak!” I shouted when they took a step back. “Well- the- why should we tell you if your father wants it secret, and if you’re just a little woman-?” He said quietly. I slapped him square in the face. “Don’t you disrespect me like that!” George whinnied and shook his head behind me. “I-I’m sorry Mademoiselle-” “Don’t apologize, just speak up! You- you buffoons!” I said, sounding more aggressive than I meant. A few people looked over. “I’m sorry.” I said around. “We can’t t-tell you-” I hopped back on Georges, who shivered with surprised and snuffed. “I will ask papa then. You proved useless.” I galloped off, almost at a run in the direction towards home. Papa had some questions to answer, and now. I didn’t care where he was or what he was working on. This is also when I was so deep in my thoughts that I accidentally ran Georges into a boy. Not really a boy, more of a teenager. He had unruly brown hair, strangely bright eyes, and sharp face structure. He wore black dress pants and a grey vest over a red shirt. I threw myself off Georges, patting his neck in apology, and picked the boy back up. His arms were strangely hard. Maybe he was just ripped, that’s what I thought. But he was such a skinny boy. As soon as he saw me, he stumbled back and bowed deeply. “I am sorry-” He had an American accent. “-I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I said quickly, my cheeks feeling hot. “Are you okay? Georges didn’t break any bones did he-?” I stopped when I truly saw his eyes. I’d say they were brown, but they weren’t. They were gold. Not light brown- bright, sparkly gold, like the metal. They shone beautifully in the sunlight, and the ocean reflected a shimmering contrast behind him. “-Miss?” I shook my head. “What?” “Are you okay?” “Yes, just… you have beautiful eyes.” I turned to Georges as his cheeks flushed. “You should come home with me, make sure nothing’s broken, then I’ll bring you home… Yes-?” I stopped when I saw the look on his face— saddened at the thought of a home. “You have a home, don’t you?” He shook his head. “Then… At least come to my home, we’ll fix you up.” I got up on Georges’ back again, then took the boy’s hand and lifted him up behind me. Georges shook his head and snorted, looking unhappy. “You’re too light.” I giggled, glancing behind me. I shook the reins, and Georges went into a trot. “What should I call you?” The boy asked, holding onto Georges’ backside unsurely. “Claire is quite fine. What is your name?” I replied. “Uh… Tom.” When we were approaching the stables at the end of the trail in the backyard, Tom suddenly fell off Georges. I stopped and hopped off as well, helping him back up. “You- you live here?” He said. “This is- this is the Fontaine’s mansion. I-I can’t come here.” He said, pulling away from me and back towards the road. “And why not?” I let go of him, offended. He fell backwards into the grass and left an imprint when he stood back up. “Just- just- I can’t.” He said. “At least come put Georges away with me. It really is so lonely around here.” I pleaded. “Fine.” He said, but looked concerned. I lead him to the stables, where some of the best horses in the world were held. However, Tom seemed unimpressed. “In in, Georges.” I said sweetly, tapping Georges into his room. After getting him settled, I turned to Tom, who was creeping away from the stables. “Oh come on.” I shouted to him and ran next to him. “Let me at least treat you to lunch.” “I-I really have to be going-” He said, looking around. “Where do you have to go? You have no home, you said it yourself. Now come on, I can’t take no as an answer. Especially after I ran you over with Georges.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the house. His hand was strangely hard too. Once we were inside, he was even more paranoid. I brought him to the kitchen, and greeted Greta as I walked in. “What will it be today, miss?” She bowed to me. “Well?” I looked at Tom and let go of his hand at once. “What will it be?” “I-I don’t know.” “How about just a few croissants?” I said to Greta, smiling. “Cheese in the middle, perhaps?” “Of course, Mademoiselle.” I brought Tom to the dining room. He stared around in awe, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I briefly thought about how he could live here maybe, in one of the guest rooms. Eat breakfast with me in this great hall, with the gold lined walls and domed ceiling. I stared at him. He was quite handsome. His golden eyes flickered from each vase to golden plate to old inventions. Then he saw me staring and blushed and looked away at a 1600s bellows. “Hey, Tom.” I called. He looked up sheepishly. “Come here. Might as well, while the food is cooking.” I spun on my heel, walked down a hall, and up the two flights of stairs I went. I made sure Tom was following before I took a sharp turn and up another two flights. I wanted to go to my favorite place in the mansion. When I made it to the balcony, I was panting and puffing. A second later, Tom was there next to me, not out of breath at all. Even though he was running. Unfair. So maybe he was buff, you just couldn’t tell. “What’s up here?” He asked. “The- balcony-” I puffed, swallowing and regaining my breath. “C'est beau, oui?” He smiled. “Oui.” “Est-ce que parlez-vous français? Do you speak French?” “Oui, je comprend. Yes, I understand.” I ginned largely, looking out at the bustling city. The crystal clear waters sparkled in the sunlight, and the beach exploded with color and movement. A woman in a red hat was being attacked by seagulls. A dog stole food from his owners. Most were sunbathing. I could see the stables from here, too. And the casino. And the famous hotel. Something caught my eye. Father. He was on the beach, talking with people in suits. He looked pissed off. “Look.” I hit Tom’s arm, pointing at dad. “That’s my papa.” “What’s your father’s name?” Tom said faintly. He sounded sick. “Jean-Paul.” There was a silence. “I was thinking maybe…” I blurted out after a while. “You could stay and live here. If you have no home. Only if you want to. Sorry for asking.” He turned to stare at me. “Claire, I can’t stay.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you. But I-” He stopped. “I will be killed if I stay. If you want to help me for real, I need to get away from this place. The signal could reach me.” “Signal? What signal?” He stared at me in silence and lowered his voice. “I can’t tell you. Or show you. But you have to trust me. Your father, he’s after me. He’ll kill me if he finds me. Besides,” He stepped closer. “You just ate breakfast, didn’t you?” My mind registered finally. “Where would we go?” I whispered. I thought about if someone could hear us. “It’s a very Nice place, France.” He said in a normal voice. It took me a second to get this too. “Very Nice?” He nodded and got even closer and bringing his voice even lower. “We’ll need disguises.” I nodded. “Let me bring you around. I’ll show you my room first. It’s very Nice too.” I did as I said and quickly walked to my room, which happened to be two rooms next to the balcony. I opened my mahogany door and walked through, shutting it behind Tom. I tore through my wardrobe, throwing him clothes that could be acceptable for a boy. Jeans, a big white tee-shirt, and a purple vest. I never wore the vest, but he seemed to love it. “Aha!” I exclaimed, bringing out an ankle length red cape. I tied it around my neck. “Cool, right? I forgot I had this.” “Claire. Focus.” “Right right, sorry.” I put on shorts, a plain black shirt, the cape, and knee-highs and boots. I gave Tom a pair of one of my non-girly combat boots. I actually bought them in the men’s section. “You have a bag?” He asked after I was done. I tossed him a large red backpack from my closet. “For?” “Pack clothes for a month. And not dressed up richie-rich clothes—meaning no hair products, curlers, nothing. Tee shirts, jeans, that whole lot. Gather as much money as you can. I’ll get the food.” He left in an instant. “Wait!” I called. “You don’t know where the kitchen is.” “Yes I do.” I did as he said. I packed half my closet into our backpack, and a book. And quickly too. Quickly enough that I took my mother’s brown hair dye and covered my head. It was almost dry by the time he was back. I shot up. “What took so long?” He held up three grocery bags and smiled. “Greta is kind to me. Also, what’s with your hair?” “Oh!” I remembered. I ran to my bathroom and stuck my head under the sink. My hair became not crusty and when I looked up, it was brown and not blonde. I opened a cabinet and took scissors, then bunched my hair in a ponytail and cut it. It bounced into a curl, seeming even shorter. I walked back into my room and grabbed the bag. “Do you have another b-” he stopped short upon seeing me. “Woah. Okay then, um, do you have another bag? Too much stuff…” I smiled at his dumbfounded look and grabbed another bag, this one a little bigger and having lots of pockets. I handed it to him. “Uh, Tom, your life?” “Yes! Yes.” He took the bag, shaking out of it and shoving the food into the second pack. “You ready now?” I nodded and slung the first bag over my shoulder. He slung the second one over his shoulder, and took my hand and sprinted back to the stables. I couldn’t keep up. My feet lifted off the ground when we went down the stairs. He was the only thing that kept me going as fast as him. When we made it to the stables, he let go of me and searched the horses. “Can I take any of them?” Tom asked. I bent over, panting. “Y-yeah.” He roped our bags onto Georges’ back and looked back at me. He jumped on his back. “Get on.” I hopped on behind him, quickly tucking my hair into a short ponytail, and hesitantly held his waist. “Where to?” “Nice. To a hostel.” “Nice?” I breathed. He didn’t answer and whipped the reins. Georges took off at a run and I almost fell off. Everyone on the roads stopped for us. They always did for me, but none of them would know it was me anyways. Georges was going faster than he ever had, and Tom looked determined as a hunting lion. “How long?” I shouted to him through the wind. We were entering the highway. “Forty minutes.” I stayed silent for at least twenty minutes. I just couldn’t wrap my head around all this. Just after we had finally gotten conversation up (what had happened in the kitchen, what I did all the time in such a huge house), Georges started to slow down. “Must be tired.” Tom frowned, guiding the horse to the side of the road, where a shopping plaza happened to be. “We might as well take a break.” When Georges was settled, Tom took the food bag and opened it for me. I looked in and immediately saw the croissants. I smiled and took one. I didn’t wait to bite into it and to find it, even though it was cold, to be delicious. “You try one.” I said, handing him one. “No thanks.” “You must be hungry. If you’re homeless, you must not have had anything to eat all day.” “No-no, I’m fine, really. Not hungry.” “I insist.” “No.” “You have to! You didn’t bring all this food just for me!” He went pale. “Yes I did. Claire, I- about before, when I said I couldn’t tell you anything, well… I don’t eat.” I paused. “Can I ask-” “I just don’t. I can’t, really. I wasn’t meant to.” “Of course you were!” “I wasn’t! Your father didn’t build me to be able to e-” He froze. There was a silence. I dropped my croissant. “Build you?” I said finally, very quietly. He looked down and sighed. “I’m going to die.” He put his head in his hands. “This was all worthless. I’m sorry, Claire.” He got up, but I suddenly was brought to my senses. “Wait!” He stopped. “Does that mean you’re… Not human? Not real? Like, a… A robot? Artificial intelligence?” He didn’t look at me. “I think so. Your father, he… As a precaution to if I escaped, which I did, he designed me so I… I can never say that I’m what I am. So, I guess I can’t eat, I can’t really do a lot of what you do.” “No way. There’s no way.” He smiled and raised one eyebrow, and for a moment I believed him. “Yes it is.” “You’re amazing. That’s just… Incredible.” “You really think that?” He turned to face me. I nodded and walked closer to him. “But you look so real. And your skin feels real.” “It is. Well, kind of. Synthetic. It’s supposed to feel that way.” I continued to stare at him in complete awe. That’s why papa had been gone so long all the time. “Why is papa trying to kill you?” I blurted. He shifted. “Because he can’t let me free. I, apparently am needed.” “Of course you’re needed. You’re amazing. I just don’t understand why papa needs to kill you.” “He’s not going to destroy me, if that’s what you’re getting at. He couldn’t afford to lose me. He’d just shut me down and wake me up and force me to do what he wanted.” “How could he shut you down then, without being right next to you?” “He has a button. I’ve seen it, and he’s used it before. It works.” He pursed his lips. “But only in a certain area. I’ve checked, Nice is outside of that range. That’s what I meant earlier.” I bit my lip. “You realize I can’t risk you lying. My father would kill me if I just ran away unexplained with some random boy.” “I’m not lying. Please, can’t you give me some help?” “Then prove it to me. Prove your actually AI.” “How? I gave you my word.” “I don’t know if I can trust your word. How about… I don’t know. Just prove it.” “Well… If you really don’t think I’m-I’m the thing, then explain how my first memory is of a lab. And this.” He pulled his vest off one shoulder and pulled his shirt down. Directly to the right of his collarbone was a tattoo that read “Mark 396”. I gulped. “What is that?” “I don’t know. It was there when I woke up.” I thought for a minute. “Your skin. If that’s fake, rip it open and show me that there are wires underneath.” He went blank. “I… I can’t do that.” “And why not? Because your not actually what you say you are?” “N-no, because it would hurt. I have pain too. If I cut my skin open it would be like you cutting your own skin open.” I sighed. “I’ll just have to believe you then. But don’t mess with me, I have resources. I could destroy you.” “No no, of course I wouldn’t mess with you. Thank you.” He turned to Georges. “Well, I’ll pack us up then.” “Wait.” I stuffed a croissant in my mouth. “I’m hungry. Just because you don’t have to eat doesn’t mean I don’t.” “Right.” He said and began to ready Georges. By the time he was done, I was done. I fed our horse an apple before hopping on behind Tom. “How far away is it now?” I asked after we had started off again, down the quiet road.  “About fifteen minutes.” He answered. “Hm. Actually, can you steer for a moment? I need to check something. Also, gimme your phone.” He stopped Georges without causing an accident, because we’re weren’t on the highway, and we switched positions. I handed him my phone. “What’s this for?” I said without looking up from the road. “Checking the vacancy at the hostel. Making sure it didn’t change. And the weather. If it rains, we are out of luck. Well, I am.” It was quiet for a moment. There were no cars, or horses, on the road. It was quiet. Strangely quiet. “Hey, Tom-?” “-Claire?” We both asked at the same time. “Go ahead.” We said again. “Claire, just- you go.” “Why is the road so quiet?” He was silent. “Oh dear.” “What?” “He’s blocking us off.” “He’s what?” “He blocked o-off the road. He’s going t-to cut us-us- off.” I cursed. “What were you going to say?” “I-I-” He handed my phone back quickly. “He-he’s n-near. I-I’m sh-shutting… Down…” His head slammed against my back. “Tom?” No answer. “Tom? What happened?” No answer. I stopped Georges suddenly, lurching myself forwards, and I heard a clunk on the ground beside me. I struggled to get off the horse in my anxiousness. I fell off his side and landed next to Tom. He was stuck in a strange position, his arm bent backwards, and his usually golden eyes left open, but they were strangely blank. I looked closer and saw that inside his pupil read, “AI turned off, push pressure point to awaken.” I thought for a moment. What pressure point would that possibly mean? I thought for another moment. It didn’t matter. I needed to get out of there. I picked up Tom, finding him to be quite a bit lighter than I expected, and slung him backside up on Georges. I hopped up behind him and immediately set off at a run. Georges seemed to know what was happening too and sprinted faster than ever. I stared at Tom as I rode. I wished for him to just wake up right now, to just sit up and ride us to safety. But that didn’t happen. After a few minutes, I started to hear car engines running and some sirens. As I got closer and closer, I began to see an army of police cars. My mind was racing. I didn’t know how to evade the cops! I thought hard. I didn’t have much time. What would Tom do? I got closer than would have wanted. I’ll just run right through. Yeah, that’s it. Pretend they aren’t even there. Then I realized that would not be easy. Every cop was holding a stun gun. I didn’t choose to think about it. When I jumped the first car, nothing happened except the police yelling at me. Someone caught my eye. He had balding black hair and wore an un-wrinkled perfect grey pinstripe suit. He wasn’t part of the police, I could tell. He winked at me as I rode past. At the third car, they started shooting. Everything slowed down. As the taser was about to hit my leg, Tom woke and grabbed the line, shocking him but stoping it from hitting me. He shut back down right after. No other tasers hit me, but one hit Georges’ tail. He whinnied and kept running. Papa was standing by the last car. He looked like he had been stunned. “Sorry Papa.” I shouted as I passed him. He went to grab Georges’ leg, but we were gone. Once we were out of sight, I cheered. “WHOO!” I put my hands up. “Not too shabby, right Tom?” I paused. “Oh. Tom. Dammit, where’s that pressure point?” I looked at his burned hand as Georges continued to run determinedly towards Nice. The synthetic skin was burned black, and there was some missing in the center of his palm. I checked. It was all wires. Though at the center of his hand, where he took the full blow, some of the metal parts were blackened. So he hadn’t lied. He wasn’t crazy. Somehow I knew he wasn’t. “Just wake up.” I grumbled, looking up back at the road. I knew I was at Nice when I spotted old French buildings. Everything in Monte-Carlo was new and futuristic. I got off Georges and decided to walk. I needed to ask where the hostel was. I didn’t know how Tom knew about the place. I approached a nice-enough looking old woman. “Would you happen to know where the hostel is?” She stared at me. “Yes yes, uh… Go straight down this road and take a left, then the first building on the right. Sorry, are you Claire Fontaine?” I glanced at Tom. “No, I’m not. I get that a lot.” I smiled. “Thanks for the directions!” I started off, walking quickly to the home. I thought about all possible pressure points. His sides? Back of the neck? Armpits? I had no idea. I was also so deep in thought that I didn’t notice I had passed the hostel. Fortunately I was just up the street when I noticed. I ran back down the slight hill and tied Georges outside. Then I picked Tom and our bag off his back and carried them inside. “Bonjour?” I called into the old house. “Well hello.” An old man said, coming out from behind a door and around the front desk. “You’d like a room, I presume?” “Yes, yes, of course. How much?” I struggled to get my money out. “Pay in the morning. Looks like you got your hands full.” He smirked. He walked back to the desk, grabbed a pair of keys from behind it, and handed them to me. “Last door to the right.” “Thank you.” I nodded to him and walked up the creaky steps. When I found our room, I laid Tom on the bed, scooted him over, and flopped down next to him. It was about 3:00 by now. I just kind of stared at him for a moment, thinking about the pressure point. I poked his sides, then waited. Nothing happened. I poked his armpits. Nothing. I poked the back of his neck. Nothing. I thought some more. “What is it!” I shouted. “Shut up!” Someone yelled from a room over. I looked at his burnt hand again. The stillness of his mechanics mocked the quiet in the room. I was only a little aware of a clock ticking in the corner. I put two fingers to his wrist, as if to take a pulse. Nothing happened. I tried the other wrist, the one that wasn’t burnt. The message in his eyes slowly faded out, and the normal shimmery gold faded in. The fingers in his left hand moved around a bit. His boots twitched. His left arm moved up at the elbow, then the shoulder, then back down. “Wake up.” I shook him. The life faded into his face, and he blinked. “Where am I?” He said, sitting up. “Tom!” I hugged him. “Finally.” “Claire? Where are we?” I let go of him. “The hostel.” “You got us all the way to the hostel?” “Oui.” There was silence for a second. “Why did you wake up before?” I said. “When?” “When we were riding through the police barricade and I almost got tazed. You grabbed the line then passed back out.” “What? Which hand?” I grabbed his right hand and held it up. “Burned out through the center. Look.” He stared at his palm, cringing and holding his right arm with his left. “This isn’t good.” “What? Why?” “My arms shorted out. Your father made it so if one of my limbs shorted out my entire body wouldn’t but- ow!” He poked it. “That kills.” “I know some mechanics.” I blurted. “You do?” He looked up. “From where?” “Um, my father is the owner of the largest technology industry in history.” “Right. Well, if you have your father’s mind then help me out. ‘Cause he built me, after all.” “But I don’t have any tools.” I looked around. “I don’t require any tools.” He let go of his arm and it fell limp onto the bed’s pillow. “How do I fix it though? I can’t do anything through that burnt hole in your hand, I’m guessing.” “There’s a… Um, panel in my shoulder.” He closed his eyes and pushed on a certain part of his shoulder. I looked closer. A little rectangle of synthetic skin and metal was rolling out like the tray on a DVD player. There were tiny little buttons on the inside, all black except for one that was red. “You might need a pen though. They’re really small.” He said with his fist in his mouth. “Quickly, quickly. The red one.” I grabbed a pen from the bedside table and clicked the red button. His arm popped off. “Grab-grab that bag-yeah, that one. Get the bandage, front-front pocket! QUICKLY! Please.” I went as fast as I could. He took off the vest and his shirt and I wrapped whatever was left of his arm. It was strange that it was all metal. It didn’t look like it would hurt. He sat against the wall with a sigh. “I can work on this if you want.” I was a little scared. “No, no, you’re in pain. I’ll do it.” He raised his eyebrows. “If you want to. Wake me up in a little while.” “Wha-?” He pressed his wrist and went limp. “Hey!” I shook him, then sighed. “Again?” I worked on the arm as much as I could(sneaking peeks at Tom), for a few hours, until someone called upstairs for dinner. I almost forgot. I put the arm to the side and pushed on Tom’s wrist. He slowly woke up, moving around a little before sitting up and cringing. “What is it?” He leaned against the wall. “Dinner.” I stood up and brushed myself off. I realized I still had the cape on and took it off, then hung it on a hook behind the door. “C'mon.” “But I don’t eat.” He stared at me. “I don’t need to-” I tossed his shirt and vest at his face. “I don’t care. Let’s go.”

Intro - hello

Hello there! I’ve been writing this particular book for over a year now, I think. I thought I’d make a blog collectively for my writing/drawing/thoughts to be more organized (since I definitely need more of that in my life). I love love love feedback, feel free to message me anytime with questions, comments, or just to chat!

-Rose