Author Topic: Three Calls from 9127  (Read 1768 times)

SedatedAlice

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Three Calls from 9127
« on: October 12, 2015, 03:59:07 PM »


The following posts are rated GD: GrimDark
Please read at your own peril.



T.o.C.:




Written in response to obsessively thinking about what happened after a wonderful RP session on Paragon Chat, these sets of posts will follow the exploits of Ariel Parker, also known as Aestus, on an adventure through the Shadow Shard.  I have not quite flushed out where the end of this story lies, but I will try and keep this updated as often as I have something new to add!

Feedback is appreciated.
--SA
« Last Edit: October 13, 2015, 04:01:33 PM by SedatedAlice »

SedatedAlice

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SUNDAY, 03:24:15 EST
« Reply #1 on: October 12, 2015, 04:01:38 PM »
« Last Edit: October 13, 2015, 09:27:17 PM by SedatedAlice »

SedatedAlice

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SUNDAY, 03:47:26 EST
« Reply #2 on: October 13, 2015, 02:46:19 PM »
The world was still spinning as she sat upright in bed with her face in her hands, rubbing away the fact she hadn't had a good night's since the Portals went down and she was still drunk - but a shower and a run would fix most of that before she got to work.  The lamp came on beside the bed, shedding light on the pile of leather and corsets tumbling out of her closet.  Had she really tried on each and every one again to make sure they still fit, even if she had no prospects at ever using the damn things again? 

She'd always appreciated bondage more than the average girl, but Duncan had driven her to this insane need to always be in control.  It had only taken being pinned beneath his overwhelming meta-induced strength as the drunken lust had drowned out his common sense and she begged him to stop but he didn’t.  Just that once and the switch in her brain was flipped and she vowed she'd never be made helpless like that again.  She never reported the crime.  She didn't even consider it one - just a learning experience.  To call it what it was would be to admit a weakness she couldn't deal with.  Not now.  Not ever.

No man was to be trusted.

But could she really cling to that assertion now after her mouth had run away with her? She flipped through the messages on her phone.  There it was – two words she sent to him earlier that night.

I'll wait.

It was an acknowledgement of a feeling she thought she'd vanquished when she'd punched Duncan hard enough to break half the bones in her hand.  It was the feeling that a man mattered to her - she knew the timing was crap but she'd wait for him until it wasn't because there was something between them that made her insides squirm pleasantly.  She glared accusingly at the empty side of her bed, as if it were the reason for frustration.   

The cotton sheets unwound themselves from her torso as her feet were carrying off to the bathroom to start the routine that had to happen if she was going to be at all coherent when General Hammond was shouting that the men were lost and she would have to argue the twenty four hour rule with him and vow she'd find them.  She turned the shower on, letting the water run cold as two fingers found the back of her throat, inducing the reflex that would start the cleanse of her system.  Five minutes under the icy water and the world wasn't spinning anymore. 

Ten minutes later she was out the door in her running gear with the duffle bag slung securely across her back.  Her watch said 3:47 am - she'd had less than an hour of sleep before she'd gotten the call.  She was going to have to run to Talos - about thirty minutes to the ferry where she'd get a cup of the worst coffee you'd ever tasted but it was better than nothing. 

Her feet pounded out a steady rhythm on the sidewalk as she ran, freeing her mind to think about the letter she’d hastily written.  She always wrote one when there was the possibility she wasn't coming back; she might be phoenix-bound but if she didn't follow the rules the bond would break and she'd be just another corpse to cry over. So she wrote the letters, included a copy of her will, and she left them in her duffel.  Hammond was a jackass and a worry wart but he always made sure personal effects got back to the person named on forum seventeen twenty one b as the next of kin. 

This letter hadn't been the hardest she'd ever written.  Just the shortest.  A name, followed by two words, and a closing she hoped conveyed every feeling she couldn't write.  She'd scribbled his name on the outside of the envelope, wondering why she'd chosen him - except she had no one else.  Her mother despised her and was living in some god awful dimension she retreated to when the signs were there that the invasion of Praetoria wasn't going to go well.  Her father was dead, buried in Astoria (wondering if he was still in his grave was something she didn't like to dwell on).  Her brother was dead, the first background image on her phone and the one that haunted her the most - and she didn't have friends.  Well.  She didn't used to.

"Are we friends?”

A question she never got a response to - but he'd set her shoulder and listened to her talk about Davenport so she guess it qualified.  Three days earlier she'd redone forum seventeen twenty one b and listed the name he didn't like as her next of kin. He was the only one she trusted anymore.  Beneath his cynicism and despair and that awful way he liked to push everyone away she knew he was a good man.  An honest man.
« Last Edit: October 13, 2015, 09:27:55 PM by SedatedAlice »

SedatedAlice

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« Reply #3 on: October 13, 2015, 03:59:58 PM »