themoderninquisitor - Tumblr blog

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

The Council of Matriarchs - Ceremony

Author: thejbusition

Characters: Vesca Guerra (wardencommander-amell), Berezi Esqueda (thejbusition), Delphine Levesque (felicidusaria), Ena Badi (x-sunnydragonfly-x), Alva Amador (Peripheral Character), Rylen O'Malley (Peripheral Character)

The Guerras were one of the original five mafia families who started the Matriarchy itself, and as such they had always had a seat on the Council. That was the way it was supposed to be, but over time, most of the original five families had lost their seats, whether by treachery, by losing their seat to a superior candidate, or by just not producing any female heirs to claim the seat. The only other family to retain its seat was the Amadors. Vesca’s grandmother had been well-loved by everyone who knew her in the Matriarchy, so when she died of old age at 79, there was debate, but very little as to who the seat should go to; the Council decided that although Vesca was a bit on the young side to be considered, being only 29, she would claim the seat out of respect for both her grandmother and her late mother. And so it was that on that day, the day of her induction to the Council, Vesca would enter the penthouse itself.

“Enter!” a commanding voice called. Vesca walked to the ornate wooden door, took a deep breath, and pulled open the door to take her first steps inside.

Awestruck, Vesca surveyed her surroundings; the entryway, while quite impressive, clearly didn’t do the penthouse itself justice. In the middle of the main room was a sizable fountain that was sunk into the marble floor itself. All of the furniture was posh and clearly very expensive: leather couches and chairs, oaken tables inlaid with gold, a fully stocked bar, two large fireplaces. A large balcony overlooked the entirety of the main room, and the walls on either side of her were entirely plate glass, giving a majestic view of the rest of the city. There were several doors to other rooms underneath the balcony, and several on the balcony itself too.

There was a polite yet impatient cough from the center of the room, and Vesca snapped back to reality, blushing a bit when she realized she was keeping the Matriarchs waiting. There the four of them were, standing equidistant from the fountain and from each other.

“Apologies, Mesdames.” Vesca blurted sheepishly with a quick bow.

“It is alright, Vesca, darling,” Alva Amador replied with a dismissive wave of her hand from the far side of the fountain. “Take your place before us.”

Vesca gave another quick bow out of embarrassment then proceeded quickly to the edge of the fountain.

“As is customary at this ceremony, we will acknowledge the Matriarchs present.” Alva declared melodiously and with an air of royalty.

The short, fit middle-aged woman with orange hair immediately to Vesca’s left gave a deep bow. “Matriarch Rylen O’Malley.” She announced, introducing herself.

Alva was next, giving a deep bow of her own. “Senior Matriarch Alva Amador.” She hummed proudly.

The lithe, graceful woman next to Alva bowed. “Matriarch Delphine Levesque.” She purred with a notably French accent.

Finally came the tall auburn-haired woman closest to Vesca on her right. She gave a curt bow, accompanied by a short, “Matriarch Berezi Esqueda.”

Vesca thought she caught a tight disapproving look thrown in Berezi’s direction from Alva, but it was probably just her imagination.

“Now that the formality is out of the way, it is time for you to take your oath, Vesca,” Alva explained. “Please kneel.” Vesca responded by falling not-so-gracefully to one knee. “Now, do you swear absolute loyalty to the Matriarchy and her efforts not just in our city, but nationwide?”

“I do,” Vesca replied.

“Do you swear to hold secret all discussions held here in the Council Penthouse among the Council of the Matriarchs?” Alva continued.

“Yes, I do,” Vesca answered again.

“Do you swear to uphold all the Tenets of the Matriarchy in every aspect of your life, whether in your life among us or in your personal matters?” Alva asked further.

About to respond, Vesca was interrupted with a derisive snort coming from Berezi’s direction. This time, Vesca definitely saw the angry glare thrown towards Berezi from Alva. There was a moment of intense eye contact between the two before Alva’s face softened considerably as she looked back at Vesca as if to say ‘continue.’

“Um… I do,” Vesca said a bit nervously.

“Very well,” Alva’s response came. “Then on behalf of the Council of Matriarchs, I, Senior Matriarch Amador, welcome you to the sisterhood of the Council of Matriarchs. You may rise. Fellow Matriarchs, let us greet our new sister with open arms.”

The Matriarchs all poured their own drinks, and one by one they each came and welcomed Vesca. Rylen and Berezi both welcomed her fairly briefly, but politely.

“Welcome, Matriarch Vesca,” Delphine exclaimed warmly. “I’m so thrilled to have you join us.”

“Finally, a FRIENDLY reaction!” Vesca enthused with a sigh of relief. “What’s the deal?”

“Don’t get them wrong, Vesca; everyone here is happy to have you on the Council. The Guerras are well-loved by everyone, especially the Matriarchs themselves. The problem is the little blood feud between Berezi and the Amadors,” Delphine explained.

“Oh! I see!” Vesca gasped. “I always thought the Matriarchs were pretty united. What’s Berezi’s problem?”

“Oh, chérie…” Delphine chuckled with vibrato. “The Matriarchs come to a majority, but RARELY are we all united. You’ll need to learn fairly quickly that you shouldn’t trust everyone here. And Berezi has reasons for being the way she is. We’ll talk about that some other time. But the important thing is that she doesn’t like the way a lot of things have been handed to Alva’s daughter.”

“Well, I’ll just kick some ass if anyone tries to pull anything with me…” Vesca muttered.

“Oho, I like you…” the other Matriarch mused, “but I should really let you talk to Alva, since you haven’t talked to her yet. Till a little later, my dear.” And with that Delphine wandered off to talk with Rylen, and Alva made a beeline for Vesca.

“Vesca, my dear, we must talk,” Alva began.

“Yes, madame?” Vesca replied.

Alva wrapped her free arm around Vesca’s and continued, “Please, my dear. We’re peers now. Call me Alva. We DO have a problem, however; nothing that can’t be fixed, don’t you worry.”

“Yes, Alva?”

“Well, while the Council deemed that you deserved the seat, many of our underlings thought the seat would have been better utilized giving it to someone… more ‘deserving.’ Many of them obviously know you, and while they adored your grandmother and love you in turn, they feel that you’re… too hot-headed, too brash.” Alva explained further.

“WHAT?!?” was the outburst that followed. The heads of the other Matriarchs turned.

“Hush, my dear. You wouldn’t want to make a scene. We have full confidence in your potential to lead and lead well,” Alva chided gently. “And I fully intend to help you become the leader we see in you.”

“Oh… thank you…” Vesca’s cheeks burned. As much as she hated to admit it, maybe they were right. This was a completely new experience for her, and if she always handled things “the old way,” she’d probably just make more trouble for herself.

“Don’t mention it! Now that we’ve all had a chance to congratulate you, it’s time to discuss some business…” Alva smiled before turning to the other Matriarchs. “Let us adjourn to the meeting room to begin our discussions!”

*******************************************************************************************

Delphine had not been wrong at all about the Matriarchs not being united. During their meeting, Alva and Berezi frequently butted heads, while Rylen seemed to switch sides depending on the issue and Delphine had just sat back with a smug look on her face, seeming to take it all in. Now Vesca walked out into the night air, and took it in; she really needed the breath of fresh air.

“Are you ready to go, ma’am?” a familiar voice called. There was her limo, and by the back door waited the woman who had become like a sister to her, Ena.

“Ah, yes, Ena. Let’s be off…” Vesca murmured before climbing into the car, followed by Ena.

“Drive!” Ena called, and the limo lurched out of the parking spot. Once the car was moving and the partition rolled up, Vesca and Ena shared a hug.

“Congratulations, Ves!” Ena exclaimed with emotion, tears springing to her eyes.

“Thank you, Ena… it’s been… an interesting night, to say the least,” Vesca rubbed her forehead wearily.

“It has been a crazy couple of WEEKS…” Ena laughed with a hint of sadness, wiping away the tears. “I do not know why they couldn’t just let us mourn in peace for a little longer.”

“It’s rough…” Vesca replied, tears welling up in her own eyes. “I miss grandma. But I understand why they do things the way they do them. They miss her too, but they can’t just let the affairs of the Matriarchy languish while they mourn indefinitely. And… it’s odd, leaving the enforcer life behind me… but I’m glad they’ve given me the opportunity to seize my grandma’s seat.”

“Gramma would be proud, just as I am, Ves,” Ena beamed as she wrapped her arm around Vesca again. “Obviously I still have my own duties, but when I’m not needed, I would be honored if you let me join your personal guard.”

“Of course, Ena! You’re the only family I really have anymore!”

“Thank you, Ves… Before this, I would wake up with a different view out the window quite regularly, but now, settled here...You already know how I was when I first came here. Sleeping under a grand roof with people I hardly knew was terrifying. But in time I grew to love Gramma and you. And now I can't see myself anywhere else. I miss her, Vesca. I will make sure I don't have to miss you.” By the end of her response, Ena was in tears. Vesca wrapped her in a hug again.

“Now…” Vesca answered, wiping away tears of her own as they pulled away from each other again, “how’s Italian sound for dinner?”

“Perfect...” Ena giggled.

#The Modern Inquisitor #The Council of Matriarchs #writing #thejbusition #wardencommander-amell #felicidusaria #x-sunnydragonfly-x #vesca guerra #berezi esqueda #delphine levesque #ena badi #the Matriarchy

15 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Photo

Ber Pankov

Artist/Creator: toyponiez

#The Modern Inquisitor #ber pankov #art #toyponiez #submission

13 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

Strength & Speed, Style & Beauty - Introduction

Author: thejbusition

Characters: Thatcher Vance (thejbusition), Aysunn Renaud (officialvarrictethras)

It was the Patriots vs the Dolphins on the television at the bar. Obviously most of the folks in the bar were wearing Patriots jerseys. Why wouldn’t they be? But Thatcher was the only one wearing a Dolphins jersey; that, too, made sense. It was the team he’d played for before he retired rather suddenly. With a sigh, he took a sip of his beer then placed it back on the bar as the Dolphins were forced into 3rd and long by a holding penalty.

Then, on the ensuing play, he grimaced as the Patriots sacked the Dolphins quarterback with a particularly nasty hit. He shuddered and sucked in air through his teeth with a hiss.

Thatch rolled his eyes before putting on a fake smile and starting to turn. Why was there always that one person who felt the need to say football wasn’t a rough…? He stopped mid-thought and his smile became a genuine one as he laid his eyes on one of the most gorgeous women he’d seen in his life: she was dark skinned with long, flowing dark brown hair with an undercut; she wore a Patriots jersey that she’d tied up to expose just a bit of her midriff, high-waisted khaki shorts, and a pair of fancy sandals that had just a bit of heel to them. Although she was taller, that had never been a big issue to Thatch; he was used to a lot of women being close to his height or taller. Beer in hand, she slipped off her stool and came to sit beside him.

With a chuckle, Thatch replied, “Maybe that’s true; I’ve never played rugby myself. Too much wrestling and groping for my taste.” The woman let out a sultry chuckle of her own with a shake of her head. But Thatch continued, “No, I used to play football, and I retired after I took a horrible injury on a hit like that. I just… I couldn’t risk beating myself up further. Not when I was so young and still had so much I wanted to do with my life.”

“Ahhh, I see… well, I meant no offense,” The woman replied, her eyes twinkling with an intrigued light. “I’m no stranger to sports injuries myself. I played some roller derby in college, and while my injury might not have been anywhere near that severe,” she extended her leg a bit and showed him a scar patch that ran from the outside of her knee up her thigh a bit, and Thatch couldn’t help ogling her leg just a little before she continued, “it still hurt like a bitch.”

“The name’s Thatch,” he introduced himself while meeting her eyes and extending his hand.

“Aysunn,” she replied, taking his hand and shaking it. “And I know who you are. Your injury story gave it away, though your jersey certainly didn’t help things. You’re Thatcher Vance. You played with the Dolphins for the better part of two seasons before you retired when you suffered massive damage to your femur. And now you’re head coach of the Chargers here in town. I’m a fan.”

“Ahhh, you’re a fan, are you?” Thatch laughed. “Since you know so much about me, it’s only fair I know some about you. What do you do for a living?”

“Oh, I’m a Charger myself. I try to get to most of the games at the Coliseum,” Aysunn explained. “I actually teach art at the University.”

“That’s very cool!” Thatch exclaimed. “What got you into that?”

“That’s a long and unhappy story you don’t pull out when you’re trying to get to know someone better,” said Aysunn with a little wink “I’ll spare you the details and just say that around 10 years ago I got really into art. Just the beautiful things I was capable of creating gave me some semblance of peace and a real sense of accomplishment too,” she answered, the emotion pouring out of her words as she spoke. “And so I decided that that’s what I wanted to do with my life. Not just make art, but show other people how amazing it can be too. So I became a professor.”

Awestruck, it took Thatch a minute to respond while he just stared at her, his mouth hanging open. “Well, that’s really awesome,” he finally said, shaking himself out of the daze he’d found himself in. “I’ve always had an appreciation for beautiful things, whether art or otherwise.” You idiot, Thatch thought to himself. That wasn’t sly or smooth at all.

Still, Aysunn burst out in melodious laughter. “Well that’s good to know…” she laughed, following it up with a very subtle wink and a deft touch to his thigh. Thatch felt his cheeks heat just a little at the brush with intimacy. Then she looked back up at the television; the game had ended and it wasn’t even close. She raised a hand to call over the bartender. “Well, Thatch, I’m sorry for your loss, but unfortunately, I have to go now. But it was lovely talking to you. Maybe I’ll see you around.” She signed her receipt, pounded the rest of her beer, and slipped from the stool without another word.

A bit disappointed by how abruptly she left, Thatch looked over at her vacated seat and saw that she’d left her copy of her receipt on the bar.

“Hey wait!” he called, turning around, but she’d already walked out. He reached over and picked up her receipt, noticing some writing on the back:

Had a great time. Call me! – A. xox

617-XXX-XXXX

Thatch smiled, then chugged the rest of his beer. Paying for his drink, he took the note and put it in his pocket before walking out, whistling as he went.

#The Modern Inquisitor #Strength & Speed Style & Beauty #writing #thejbusition #officialvarrictethras #thatcher vance #aysunn renaud #BCU Chargers #Bay City University #submission

15 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

Games, And How We Choose To Play Them - Introduction

Author: theswordandthequill

Characters: Freya Amador (theswordandthequill), Elijah Ostenhagen (thejbusition), Alva Amador (Peripheral Character)

There’s not enough space. It’s a small room, not much more than a broom cupboard just off the main service hallway.

Her back is pressed hard against the steel shelving, the cold edge biting into her shoulder blades. His hands hold her firmly in place, his fingers digging into her hips, her skirt bunched around his wrists. The only illumination in the room comes from the emergency light behind her, it’s red tint highlights the bones in her wrists, slides down the curve of her fingers as they twist into his hair. He kneels before her, his eyes dark pools in the half light, his lips already soaked in her.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, greedy need boiling between her thighs, unfinished desire clawing at her gut. She fights the urge to squirm under his touch. A wicked grin slides over his face at her frustration and he drags one hand down her hip to the inner curve of her thigh. With agonizing deliberation he ghosts his thumb over her clit and she jerks, banging her head against the shelf behind her. Pain and pleasure pinball around her skull. With a chuckle he drops his head and takes her into his mouth, without warning he slides two fingers inside her and she throws her head back with a curse. She’s showing too much of her hand, that wasn’t the deal, she’s supposed to be the one in control here, but it’s hard to care much when his tongue and fingers are driving her closer to the edge. His fingers twist inside her and his teeth graze against her swollen flesh and she breaks.

“Mr. Ostenhagen,” She pants, as soon as she able to put words back together in a straight line. “If you don’t wipe that self satisfied smirk off your face and come fuck me properly I will not be responsible for my actions.” His face is alight with feral fire.

“Yes ma’am.” It takes less than a minute for him to stand and undo his belt. There is the crinkle of a foil packet and then he is grabbing her left knee, opening her legs to him in one smooth movement. He leans in and kisses her her roughly, and when he enters her with one swift stroke she bites his lip hard enough to taste blood.

They don’t waste time, his body slams into her, driving her back into the shelves, beside them something topples to the floor. With a grunt he slides one hand under her ass and picks her up, her ankles locking behind the small of his back. He takes a stumbling step to the left and crashes them into the more solid surface of the wall. She can’t hold back the cry as impact drives him deeper in. She clings to his shoulders, her nails digging into the hard flex of the muscles under his tee shirt. Using her new leverage she rocks her hips against him and is gratified to hear the groan that slides past his lips. She moves faster, driving him to pick up the pace and he braces one hand on the wall behind her head. Her heart is pounding in time with the thrusts of his body that are becoming more and more erratic. Her own movements grow chaotic, her breath hot against his throat as she fails to hold back the sound of pleasure building inside her. He hoists her higher, at the same time claiming her bruised lips again. The change of position is enough to send her crashing over the edge for the second time and she lets go a keening cry against his mouth. His body shudders violently and his fingers bite into her skin so hard she knows there’ll be a mark. He gives one last stuttering thrust and then collapses them against the wall. She can feel his heart slamming against his ribs.

“I trust.” He gasps, pulling back and letting her slowly down to her feet. His hands linger at her waist until he’s sure her legs will support her. “You find my performance satisfactory.” She considers him for a long moment, a smile playing at the edges of her lips.

“I’ll accept it, this time.” She says, rearranging her skirt and then glancing around, “Where the fuck are my shoes?”

*******************************************************************************************

“Ostenhagen! Where the hell have you been? I was supposed to be off shift 20 minutes ago.”

“Sorry, man,” Elijah tried to school his features into a remorseful grimace. “You know how it is, had to help the boss with something.”

“Yeah.” The other bouncer laughed, “You have got to be the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. How long were you here before you insulted the lovely and terrifying Ms. Amador, to her face I might add?” Elijah’s expression was a picture of chagrin.

“Half an hour, give or take.”

“Well it could have been worse,” the man said, “she could have fired you, or had you killed. I suppose by comparison ‘number one bitch’ isn’t so bad.”

“No,” Elijah laughed, watching the bouncer’s retreating back. “Not too bad at all.”

*******************************************************************************************

Freya paused for half a heartbeat outside her mother’s office door, adjusting the line of her jacket and checking her lipstick in the doors polished sheen, before rapping sharply twice. She was late. She hadn’t meant to stay at the Duchess so long, but there had been that debacle with the whisky provider to sort out, the monthly numbers to go over, Elijah to fuck her brains out…

Shit. That was getting complicated. It had started simply enough. He’d had the bad luck to admire the curve of her ass rather vocally (and lewdly) just inside earshot on his first day working as her new Bouncer. She could have let it slide, but the look on his face when he realized who she was had caught her attention. There had been genuine apology in his eyes, and a hint of shame as well, but it hadn’t been enough to mask their lusty glint or the cocky smile that played at the edges of his mouth. She should have given him a smack, or maybe fired him, but suddenly a wild idea had crossed her mind and she’d thought, why the fuck not?

It was supposed to be carnal satisfaction, plain and simple, there was no denying he was one of the best looking men she’d met.

They’d meet once or twice a week for a quick shag in a dark corner. In theory it was supposed to be his way of making up for his poor choice in words; his only job was to make sure his employer left completely satisfied, but she liked to think he wasn’t disappointed in her performance either. That should have been it. Simple. Fun. But lately, she couldn’t shake the idea that maybe…

“Enter.” The sound of her mother’s curt call shook Freya out of her confused musing. With a little huff of frustration, she opened the door.

Alva Amador sat behind a beautifully polished desk of silver and glass. She was looking over some papers and her sleek glasses were perched at the end of her long elegant nose. She waved Freya over to a seat without looking up from her work and Freya sighed inwardly. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

Settling into the chair, she pulled self consciously at the short hem of her skirt. Next to her mother’s perfectly pressed charcoal grey suit and polished pearls, she felt gaudy and unprofessional. She’d always been a little envious of her mother’s beauty. Although well into her 50s, Alva Amador was still a striking woman with her bronze skin and dark hair, now streaked with silver, but it was her unshakable poise that made her a force to be reckoned with. Freya had spent her entire life being told she would one day inherit her mother’s empire, and for almost as long she had feared being found unworthy.

A full minute passed before Alva looked look up, gazing at her daughter over the rims of her glasses.

“You’re late.” She said, and while her tone was not unkind, the words were pointed.

“I know.” Freya said, “I’m sorry, there was a thing with this months shipping requests and—”

“Freya.” Her mother said, reaching up and removing her glasses, folding them neatly in her hands. “I’m worried that the Duchess is proving too much. Have I overwhelmed you?”

“What?” Freya felt her face flush with embarrassment. “No! If this is about that mix-up last month with the tablecloths, I figured it out, it was just a clerical error, I won’t let it happen again.” She was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Her mother had given her management of The Grand Duchess 6 months ago and Freya had loved every moment of it. It had been her first taste of real freedom, the first time she’d felt like she understood what was expected of her, and she’d thought things had been going well, minor linen setbacks aside.

Alva raised a hand to stop her rush of words. The expression on her face was stern but kind, and Freya was suddenly 5 years old again. She cursed herself and tried to blink back the tears that burned behind her eyes.

“I am concerned,” Her mother said smoothly, as if this were any other meeting with any other associate, “that I have put too much on you too quickly. We can scale it back, someone else can take over management of the casino and you can stay with the nightclub if you want.” The thought of someone else touching her work filled Freya with a boiling fury. Her first instinct was to lash out, but she held back.

You are an Amador. She thought grimly. Behave like one.

“Mother.” She began, gratified to find her voice steady and cool. “I appreciate your concerns, and I am willing to hear any advice you have to offer, but you cannot take the Duchess away from me. I’ve put too much into her, and I can make her even better, I promise. I love her, I’m not going to give her up without a fight.” She met her mother’s steely blue eyes for a long moment and then Alva simply nodded.

“Very well. Let’s move on then, we have other matters to discus.” Without another word she slipped her glasses back on and turned her attention to the papers on the desk.

Freya sat, feeling both relieved and confused. She had distinct impression she had just passed some sort of test. She focused her gaze on the list her mother placed before her and promised herself that she would do better. She would be more focused and in six more months she’d proved to everyone just why she deserved the faith her mother placed in her.

You should probably stop sleeping with the staff, a little voiced hummed in the back of her head. Probably, she thought as she pictured the hard line of Elijah’s strong shoulders, it was the right thing to do. But then again, being right all the time was boring.

#The Modern Inquisitor #Games and How We Choose to Play Them #writing #theswordandthequill #thejbusition #freya amador #elijah ostenhagen #the Matriarchy #NSFW #sex #submission

13 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

Reblogging this as a reminder, as the next story that will be posted momentarily will be tagged with "NSFW" and "sex." The story itself will also be placed under a cut.

Story Announcement

For all you lovely people who are following this AU blog, your follow will begin to pay off before too much longer. The first round of character assignments has happened, and the team will begin working as soon as possible. Don’t expect content to IMMEDIATELY start flowing. There aren’t any deadlines on any of the projects, as we don’t want to rush anybody since all of the team members have lives outside of this, and I can’t afford to pay any of them what they’re worth in order to make this their full-time job, so they’re all doing this out of the goodness of their hearts. But you shouldn’t have to wait TOO much longer.

Now, I also wanted to make you all aware: there will QUITE LIKELY be adult themes in some of these stories and possibly some of the art too. There will definitely be some violence, some drug usage/overdose, and there will quite likely be a lot of sex. As a result, we will tag any of those things in stories/art that involved them. That way if you don’t want to see it, or get triggered by such things, you can blacklist it. Here’s a list of the tags we will DEFINITELY be using for such content:

NSFW

sex

sex-implied

violence

alcoholic consumption

drug use

drug overdose

That’s all I can think of right now. I will update this list in the future as we add more potentially controversial content. If you come across something you’d LIKE tagged that we haven’t tagged that way, let me know at my main blog, thejbusition. I’d be happy to tag something if it saves you a panic attack, and I apologize in advance if something gets posted that does that to you.

Again, I can’t thank you all enough for all your lovely support. We wouldn’t be able to get this off the ground without all your amazing and wonderful submissions, as well as your willingness to follow a completely brand new project. It means the world to me, and the rest of the team! :) I love you all! <3

#The Modern Inquisitor #warning tags #tag list

11 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Photo

Jared Mathers

Artist/Creator: toyponiez

#The Modern Inquisitor #jared mathers #art #toyponiez #submission

6 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

Secrets, Lies, and What Lies Between Them - Introduction

Author: thejbusition

Characters: Morwen Farrelly (thejbusition), Nymeria Whiker (toyponiez)

Warning: Violence Depicted

Morwen Farrelly stalked the dark corridor of the apartment building, her trusty commando knife in its sheath on her hip and her brass knuckles clenched in her fists. Her target’s hideout was at the end of the hall: Apartment 324.

Morwen crept to the end of the hall, seeing the dim light streaming out from beneath the doorway to her target. She took a deep breath, not knowing for sure how many people she’d find on the other side, counted silently to three, and then kicked the door open.

There was a man right by the door with a submachine gun. He was barely able to start bringing it up when she delivered a sharp punch to his temple with her brass-covered fist; he fell hard, blood immediately streaming from his skull. In the next instant the world blurred as she launched herself forward into a roll; there were three more men standing sporadically around a card table in an otherwise empty and dingy room, though none as heavily armed as the first. There were piles of money on the card table, but no drugs, as the Matriarchs were always quick to cut off the supply of anyone they suspected of cheating them. They clearly weren’t professionals either, judging by the looks of panic she noted on their faces as she hurtled out of her roll and towards the closest individual --they were probably just loyal customers or some shit like that. As she closed the gap, she delivered a one-two punch to that man’s ribs followed by a swift uppercut that dislocated his jaw with a sickening crunch. Two down, two to go.

By this point, the two remaining had stopped panicking and were drawing their pistols. She threw herself over the card table, quickly wrangled the next man into submission and used him as a human shield as the dealer opened fire on her. Three shots were fired before the dealer cried out in frustration as his first bullet missed wildly and the second and third hit home on his “bodyguard,” burying themselves in his thigh and shoulder. She shoved her shield powerfully at her assailant, and as the weight of the man crashed into him, they both collapsed in a heap.

Removing one set of brass knuckles and drawing her knife, she quickly crossed over to them. Using her remaining knuckles, she cracked the wailing, wounded man on his skull, knocking him out cold. With a yank, she removed him from her intended target, and placed her knee on his throat. The edge of her knife came within mere inches from his eye.

“PLEASE! DON’T HURT ME!” He shrieked, tears welling up in his eyes. “I DIDN’T MEAN TO CHEAT YA…”

“Tolvin, how dumb do you think I am? I’m not you,” Morwen sneered. “What part of you LEGITIMATELY thought it was a good idea to betray the Matriarchy?”

“I… I… don’t…” he sobbed and coughed, but he was interrupted by her blade abruptly puncturing the side of his neck.

“Well, it’s the last mistake you’ll make,” Morwen murmured coolly, yanking the knife out. She turned back to the card table and began packing up the money as Tolvin writhed and gurgled and choked behind her. Tolvin was still alive. Hesitating, Morwen looked ready to leave him to his suffering, but she wasn’t that heartless. From the unconscious body of the man he’d shot, Morwen retrieved a pistol. Without looking back, she fired a single shot; the noise rang in her ears for a minute, but when it passed, Tolvin was silent. She threw the gun back at the unconscious “bodyguard.” Her gloves had ensured that she’d left no fingerprints. Mission accomplished.

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

After delivering the money back to the drop site, Morwen had stopped by her apartment, cleaned herself up, and now she found herself at a familiar building. She stared wistfully at it for a moment, silently loathing the change that building had forced on her life, before she sighed heavily and walked inside.

A little bell alerted the occupants that she was there, and she was greeted by a cacophony of barks, meows, hisses, and chirps.

She heard a quiet voice call impatiently from the back of the shelter: “I’m not accepting any new admissions this evening. I’m just about to close up. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Well, what about a stray who just doesn’t know how to stay away?” Morwen replied loudly enough to be heard over the din, but with as much calm poured into her voice as possible.

The woman at the back of the shelter perked up and turned towards her.

“Morwen?” the woman inquired, clearly confused and moving closer. “Is that you?”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Miva?” Morwen smiled.

The woman replied with a stern look and a cough. “Nymeria.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be used to that… Nymeria…” Morwen’s voice cracked a bit as her eyes fell to the floor.

“Well, as far as the Matriarchy knows, Miva was killed in action, and I prefer to keep it that way.” Nymeria groaned with exasperation. “Why are you here, Morwen?”

“It’s been nearly a year, Mer,” Morwen answered quietly, using the nickname as if she’d called Nymeria that her whole life. “I can’t help missing you after that long.”

“Well… I can’t say I don’t understand how you feel. I miss you, Morwen,” Nymeria replied sadly. “But we agreed that things would have to be different. YOU were the one who suggested we wouldn’t be able to see each other as often, and I came to peace with that. If it meant not living that horrible life anymore… some sacrifices… they just have to be made.”

“I know… it’s just… nights like tonight… I want my partner-in-crime back…” Morwen whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Nymeria sighed, blinking the tears from her eyes as she extended her arms to allow Morwen to hug her. They stood there for a couple minutes before Nymeria finally continued, “It just won’t work. If you come around here too often, you know they’ll see. And you know it won’t be long before they connect the dots.” She extended her arms to hold Morwen at arm’s length and look at her, but she couldn’t help looking in Morwen’s glistening, puppy dog eyes. Then she groaned, “Alright, look. I know where you live. Obviously I can’t use your phone because you don’t know who might be listening in. But maybe I can try to set up a time to see you every few months. As long as we’re careful.”

“I can do that,” Morwen grinned weakly through the tears.

“Good. I hate seeing you like this, Morwen,” Nymeria answered with a smile of her own. “Now, I can only assume you came here from an operation? Go home and get some sleep. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Thanks, Mer. I’ll see you around,” Morwen hugged her one more time before turning and walking out the door into the night. She wanted to tell Nymeria badly how she felt, but it wouldn’t be that night. Maybe it wouldn’t be ever given their situation, but that bridge would be crossed another time.

#The Modern Inquisitor #Secrets Lies and What Lies Between Them #writing #thejbusition #toyponiez #morwen farrelly #nymeria whiker #the Matriarchy #violence

13 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

TEAM ANNOUNCEMENT

Team, when you get a chance, if you don't know her already, introduce yourself to x-sunnydragonfly-x! She's joining the team as a writer to help alleviate some of the pressure on some of the writers who have a ton of characters. She's currently quite involved with the hospital, some civilian characters, and a bit of the college aspect. So give her a welcome and get to know her! She's a lovely person! :)

#The Modern Inquisitor #AU Team announcement #x-sunnydragonfly-x #new writer

7 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Photo

The Bay City University Chargers (Athletics logo)

Created by: toyponiez

#The Modern Inquisitor #BCU Chargers #athletics logo #art #submission #toyponiez

8 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

Character Bio: Thatcher Vance

Creator URL: thejbusition

Original Name: Thatcher Cadash

AU Name: Thatcher Vance

About: Thatcher was a star running back in college back in the early 90's. He was drafted into the NFL but after a near career-ending injury, he retired, not wanting to risk his health any further. His former coach in college hired him on as a graduate assistant, and from there he worked his way up through the college ranks. This is now his second year as the head coach of the BCU Chargers, and the future of the program looks bright.

#The Modern Inquisitor #character bio #thejbusition #thatcher cadash #thatcher vance

4 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

Character Bio: Aysunn Renaud

Creator URL: officialvarrictethras

Original Name: Aysunn Adaar

AU Name: Aysunn Renaud

About: Aysunn was born in France, and when she was little, her parents and she moved to the United States. She lived a relatively normal life, until she was in her early 20’s. Her mother died unexpectedly, and she didn’t handle it well due to her poor relationship with her father. She went to therapy that encouraged her to use her artistic tendencies as an outlet for her grief; she enjoyed using art in this way, and falling in love, she resolved to become a professor of art. She now teaches art at BCU.

#The Modern Inquisitor #character bio #officialvarrictethras #aysunn adaar #aysunn renaud

9 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

For any writers who are curious...

the-inquisitionings asked me earlier today about what season we're in at the beginning of the AU. I felt it made the most sense for the timeline to start late summer, early fall (probably technically of 2014) since that's when university would start back up again for the year, and since the university is one of the more major storylines, we're going with that. :)

#The Modern Inquisitor #timeline update #for the writers #the-inquisitionings

7 notes · View notes

themoderninquisitor · 9 years

Text

How Very Novel - Introduction

Author: thejbusition

Characters: Xaldaan Kelzim (thejbusition), Levya Hart (twindaggers), Verethel (Peripheral Character)

“Dad, I’m still not sure why you’re doing this. We’re doing just fine!” Xaldaan chided as he followed Verethel down from their apartment to the backway entrance of their bookshop. The stairs creaked as they descended. Verethel laughed as he turned the key in the lock, and opened the way in. Sunlight bathed the already comforting setting with golden light. A new day had begun.

“I’m flattered by your optimistic opinion of the situation, Xal, but we are not ‘fine.’” Verethel replied, chuckling. “You’ve probably noticed, but I’m not as capable of doing my job as I used to be. I’m getting old. We could use another set of hands around here.” Verethel then tossed the keys abruptly at his redheaded son.

“I can pick up the extra work!” Xaldaan shot back, indignantly, catching the keys as if by second nature, a few charms clanging together, metal on metal.

Verethel whirled and glared at Xaldaan. “Have you ever considered the fact that maybe I don’t want you to?” Verethel asked wearily, his expression softening. “Xaldaan, I love you and your sister dearly. But this store was MY dream, as were the two of you. I never wanted to force this store on either of you when I eventually got too old to run it correctly. That’s why I let Tsari go when you got old enough to help me. If running the store is what you want when the time comes, that’s fine by me. But only if you’re 100% certain that you don’t want anything else. I want you to be able to chase the dreams that I didn’t when I was young and foolish, and you can’t do that if you’re stuck here with me and the usual crowd.”

“But, Dad. You had a WONDERFUL life. You got to pursue your causes, fight for people who couldn’t fight for themselves, and you were the best dad that Tsari and I could have asked for growing up...” Xaldaan said quietly and tenderly.

“You are right about one thing: I have had a wonderful life for several reasons. But if you think I don’t have any regrets that is shortsighted of you.” Verethel sighed. “I’m an old man who’s lived a long and full life. Very few old men have no regrets. But I’d like for you to be able to say that you had no regrets when that time comes.”

Xal stared at his father inquisitively. But Verethel’s weary, sad face quickly became a smile again.

“Now, no more arguing. We’re hiring some help, so stop trying to convince me otherwise.” Verethel chuckled before heading to the window and turning the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’. A new day had begun.

In the time it took Verethel to sit with his tea, and for Xaldaan to feed the store’s mouser, an orange tabby named Ser-Eats-A-Lot, the door creaked open and the chime rang. the first face of the day.

“Umm… excuse me… Mr. Verethel?” a quiet, feminine voice questioned. “I’m here about the open position?”

Verethel and Xaldaan turned to look at her, and there before them stood a small, thin woman with light blonde hair and bright eyes. She had a sweet look about her, and her expression hinted at eagerness.

“Ah yes, welcome!” Verethel laughed kindly, extending his arm to shake her hand. “I am Verethel, and this is my store. And you are?”

“Levya… Levya Hart…” she replied softly, reaching out to take his hand and shake it as firmly as her nerves would allow. “And… I hope you don’t take this the wrong way… but I knew who you were and I’m quite familiar with your store!”

“Ahhh yes…” Verethel gasped, the cogs in his head were turning. “I thought I recognized you. You were a student, were you not? You haven’t been around much lately. Have a seat!” He pulled out a chair for her and sat on his stool on the other side of the counter, taking a sip of his tea, steam billowing out of the mug.

“No, and it’s a shame too. I loved this store so much. But since I graduated and have been looking for jobs, I haven’t had as much time to come around.” Levya replied meekly.

“What did you go to school for?” Verethel asked.

“Mostly art. I actually hope to be able to illustrate children’s books someday. But there isn’t a whole lot of work out there for someone with a portfolio as thin as mine…” Levya babbled.

“Oh nonsense. You just have to find the right opportunity! And I’m sure your work is lovely.” Verethel grinned, his eyes shining with a youthful fire.

“Oh… thank you, sir.” Levya replied with a blush.

Ser-Eats-A-Lot padded from behind a bookcase, eyeing the new figure with great green eyes.

“No need to be so formal. If you’re going to be working here, I expect you to call me Verethel. I’m not worthy of that much respect.” Verethel chuckled with a cough. “Xal, do you have any objections?”

Xal sighed. “I’m still not entirely sure we need the help, but it is your decision and she seems nice.”

The ginger cat had moved from his niche behind the shelf to Levya’s ankle, rubbing his face affectionately on her shoe and purring.

Verethel shot him another glare and shook his head before turning back to Levya with a smile on his face. “Very well then! When can you start?”

“Seriously? You mean it?” Levya squeaked, her face getting redder.

“Of course! When can you start?” Verethel confirmed.

“Tomorrow! Definitely! Thank you so much, sir… I mean, Verethel! I hope you won’t regret this!” Levya twittered excitedly, crouching for a moment to give the cat a scratch behind the ears.

“Very well! We shall see you tomorrow, my dear! We can discuss your compensation and schedule first thing in the morning! Be here by 8:45 sharp!” Verethel instructed.

“Wonderful! Again, thank you so much, Verethel!” Levya responded, shaking his hand and then turning to Xaldaan. “And it was nice to meet you…?”

“Xaldaan. Welcome to the business, Levya. And the cat likes you, you’re obviously a keeper.” Xal replied with a smile of his own.

Levya shook his hand and nodded eagerly before rushing out of the store frantically.

“She seems lovely. I hope you won’t be so rude in the future, my boy.” Verethel sighed, side-eyeing Xal.

“Don’t worry, Dad. She does seem really nice and I look forward to working with her.” Xal answered reassuringly. “Looks like things won’t really be the same around here anymore.”

Verethel’s youthful gaze returned to his son, “Are you suggesting things were boring here until now?”

Xaldaan shrugged, the half-smile spreading across his face again. “Oh, just finish your tea.”

#The Modern Inquisitor #How Very Novel #writing #thejbusition #twindaggers #xaldaan kelzim #levya hart

20 notes · View notes