Eye-opening and thought-provoking...

I realize that in the jobs where I have excelled, they were because I didn't care about the money.
It was because I really LOVED what I was doing.  And was given the space to be creative the way I wanted to.

That was tempered with my hitting my deadlines and being responsible.
And that's what I realize I wished some of my co-workers could learn to do.

[Sweetie] and [Muse] update!

[Sweetie] and [Muse] update!

Due to issues with Youtube itself, the rules on how the winner shall be chosen have been changed.  A webpage shall be put up showing all the existing finalist entries.  Views are NO LONGER the key factor in determining who will win in the event.  

Instead, a second page shall soon be online where one can vote for their favorite film.  

This early, I want you all to know that I am very grateful for the support and passion you have all showed in helping my film get noticed by more and more people.  Once the webpage is up, I promise to inform you all as soon as possible what it is so that you can all vote for both [Sweetie] and [Muse].

Thank you so much for everything.
I can only promise that win or lose, this will not be the last of short film work you've seen from me.

Weddings and Wants

In a few hours, I will be changing into a suit and wearing this burgundy tie which I've been given to be one of the groomsmen in a friend's wedding.   This is not the first time I've found myself attending a friend's wedding.  I've been a best man, a witness, a reception host and a guest in other weddings before.  Unlike those other weddings, however, I'm going to have to risk this one while feeling sick.  Coughing and sneezing have become close friends of mine in the last few days, with even a near fever striking me down the other day.  My nose is sore from all the clearing of accumulating mucus.  My lips are dry from losing all that fluid.  I've gone through two boxes of tissues, and at least four rolls in the past few days, with the discharge ranging from clear to yellow to whitish with a bit of blood from my poor strained nostrils. 

I find myself thinking if I'd ever get a chance to marry the person I love.

Read more at
http://garapata.blogspot.com/2009/12/weddings-and-wants.html

Film Making Fantasies

When the creativity bug bites you, sadly, it does not lead into instant audiovisual tetanus.  It leads to yearning.  And wanting.  And second guessing.  It leads to scribbles.  To panels.  To storyboards.   It leads to script drafts.  To plot outlines.  To concept art.

But it does not lead to a masterpiece.

That requires the bitten one to take the full plunge and trust the creative pyros that surges within him.

For quite some time I've gotten into a funk with other projects.  Friends who used to commend me for my horror comics haven't been asking me to join anthologies or collections featuring horror.  Some book collections turned down my submissions and instead opted for younger voices that wrote better lines.  And a recent chance at a creative merging for short films was too quickly uncovered to be one where I was intended to just handle part of the labor.

I felt shitty.  I felt used.  I felt like others expected me to "write like Gaiman" or "worship their feet" before I could be acknowledged as a creative myself. 

On others, however, I felt like I had disappointed them.  The Immaculate Mother of Zaturnnah surely is disappointed in me never finishing my online comic, or following through with my modern fantasy book.  The Car Rental of Comics King probably hoped I would have been more public friendly in my works.  And some of my still present but quiet supporters, are probably disappointed I haven't been posting any creative things as of the late.

I feel a reawakening of my divine fire.

My tremendously delayed thanks to performance anxiety project, Diliman, is getting a shot of new adrenaline-rich movement as it will now be part of a North American-made documentary on the Aswang myth.  Originally, the director (and now friend of mine) contacted me asking permission to use some of the artwork in his film.  Now, there's discussion on having the comic itself as bundled in the DVD release, as well as conversations on the possibility of a "series of shorts" inspired by the comic.

Fandom Live! is starting to move towards new directions.  While it will always celebrate its "garage" roots, more people are starting to appreciate the quirky shows.

And the idea of shooting some shorts are starting to pump back into my system.

The creativity dog is hunting me again.  It has caught another whiff of my scent.

Maybe this time, I'll let it bite deep.

And creative works are gonna froth out of my mouth for all to see.

Parental views

Yesterday, I was back in Paranaque at my parents' place working in the family business when two o'clock came by my window and reminded me to head to a friend's house to get some DVDs I had lent out some months back.  With a quick cartwheel down the street, a leapfrog over some residential doggies and a SMSed "I'm here," my friend's mom Tita N allowed me to step inside and greeted me like a friend I haven't seen in a long time.

And in many ways, that has been something true about how things were between me and my friend and his family.  Even with the age difference, the interest gap and the like, me and him and his family always had this strangely familiar level of understanding and comfort that one usually only feels among best friends or close relatives.

With an initial false start to hunt down the errant DVDs (I had left the list back at my parents' place) we eventually got down to looking them up by title while talking about how things have been.  Eventually, the discussion began to focus on my recent move out of my parents' place, the emptiness and at the same time the pride a parent feels once their kid takes it upon him/herself to move out and begin living their own lives, and the fact that nowadays it can be hard to foresee how things will turn out considering how complicated life can be nowadays.  In many ways, it was far simpler in the past when stereotypes were more often than not true: band people did drugs, long haired people were rebels, people with tattoos had been in prison, homosexuals had no future save to work in a parlor or in fashion, artists never made money... wait, that last one still holds I think.

Nowadays, things are far different from before.  And it can be quite a challenge for parents at times to relate with thier kids having been raised in a time when such stereotypes were more often than not true.  I remember the times I'd want to grow my hair long and my parents would reprimand me stating I was making myself look like a "hoodlum".  Or how my sister would have friends who were in a band and automatically there'd be some level of mistrust towards them ("Baka they're getting her into drugs, etc...") even if the fears were unwarranted.  More so when the said parents are actively trying to move past the stereotypes, however out of fear and worry for their kids, end up stepping backwards into them for familiar security.

Tita N shared with me some very heart-warming pieces of advice to bear in mind:
1) Moms know their kids more often than the kids know themselves. 
While this sounds very cliche, in many more ways than not it is true.  Moms tend to know things and in many occasions if it happens to be something they refuse or are unprepared to face, can very skillfully rationalize or deny what they know for as long as they need to.  So if there were things as a child you needed to tell your parents, 8 our of 10 times it would be best to start with your mom.  Chances are, she already knows, or denies what she knows and would rather you come forward to tell her than force her to bring it up.   Mas mahirap din naman kasi if she assumes something, brings it up, and it turns out to be wrong, diba?  (Just imagine, "Anak, buntis ka ba..." "Mom?!??!" "Ay, sorry, tumataba ka lang pala..." "WTF!!!?")

2) Family is family.
The bonds of family are truly more powerful than most realize.  Again it sounds cliche, but part of this bond is the fact that every family can only move forward by letting go.  A child has to move on.  A parent has to let go.  And with the emptiness and fear and pain of letting go, comes the unspeakable pride and joy of realizing your kid is ready to brave the world on their own.  

And with that, of course, comes the fact that you can always come home.   While some families end up with arguments and issues that separate the bonds or threaten to fray them to shreds, when push comes to shove, parents will want to help their kids.  Kids will have to learn to see their parents willingness to help.  And the two need to swallow huge Pride pills to mend the issues of the past.

3) We deserve the chance to attempt our preferred lives.
In many ways this seems like a no-brainer but can be difficult to embrace considering how Filipino society can be oppressive in its expectations of one's roles.  Be it due to social or economic constraints, skill or talent requirements, connection or geographic limitations, Filipino society tends to have a "doon ka lang" mindset which tends to suffocate one from reaching for their dreams.  At times, emotional blackmail is used to force one to stay "in their place."  In others, one's self esteem is pounded down and torn apart in an attempt to make one dependent on the other.  But ultimately, this crab mentality manifests as others saying "dito ka lang, or hanggang doon ka lang aabot."  Whether this is a strain borne from the prevalence of telenovelas and the like is irrelevant.  What is relevant is that we realize we have the right to dream of better things and we deserve giving ourselves the chance to try to reach for it. 

After all, if you don't try for yourself, who will.

Soon, it was getting dark and night was ushering in.  Tita N wished me the best and showed me out. I promised her to visit again sometime, perhaps even to update her on how her son is doing abroad.  She does worry for him, but in her eyes I can see the pride she feels that he's going for what he believes he should. 

She said I was a great friend to her son.

Here's hoping my parents think I'm a great son, too.

Just marking this down

First time.

It is an odd sensation.
This too will pass.

A Public Service Post

Main Entry:

¹fair 

Pronunciation:

\ˈfer\

Function:

adjective

Etymology:

Middle English fager, fair, from Old English fæger; akin to Old High German fagar beautiful

Date:

before 12th century

1: pleasing to the eye or mind especially because of fresh, charming, or flawless quality2: superficially pleasing : specious <she trusted his fair promises>3 a: clean, pure <fair sparkling water> b: clear, legible4: not stormy or foul : fine <fair weather>5: ample <a fair estate>6 a: marked by impartiality and honesty : free from self-interest, prejudice, or favoritism <a very fair person to do business with> b (1): conforming with the established rules : allowed (2): consonant with merit or importance : due <a fair share> c: open to legitimate pursuit, attack, or ridicule <fair game>7 a: promising, likely <in a fair way to win> b: favorable to a ship's course <a fair wind>8archaic : free of obstacles9: not dark <fair skin>10 a: sufficient but not ample : adequate <a fair understanding of the work> b: moderately numerous, large, or significant <takes a fair amount of time>11: being such to the utmost : utter <a fair treat to watch him — New Republic>

— fair·ness noun

synonyms fair, just, equitable, impartial, unbiased, dispassionate, objective mean free from favor toward either or any side. fair implies an elimination of one's own feelings, prejudices, and desires so as to achieve a proper balance of conflicting interests <a fair decision>. just implies an exact following of a standard of what is right and proper <a just settlement of territorial claims>. equitable implies a less rigorous standard than just and usually suggests equal treatment of all concerned <the equitable distribution of the property>. impartial stresses an absence of favor or prejudice <an impartial third party>. unbiased implies even more strongly an absence of all prejudice <your unbiased opinion>. dispassionate suggests freedom from the influence of strong feeling and often implies cool or even cold judgment <a dispassionate summation of the facts>. objective stresses a tendency to view events or persons as apart from oneself and one's own interest or feelings <I can't be objective about my own child>.

----------
from Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary.

Some Quotes To Tattoo upon your Heart

Love is like pi - natural, irrational, and very important.

- Lisa Hoffman

Love is more than just a feeling: it's a process requiring continual attention. Loving well takes laughter, loyalty, and wanting more to be able to say, "I understand" than to hear, "You're right."

- Molleen Matsumura

The first duty of love is to listen.

- Paul Tillich

Love is a condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.

- Robert Heinlein

You learn to speak by speaking, to study by studying, to run by running, to work by working; and just so, you learn to love by loving. All those who think to learn in any other way deceive themselves.

-Saint Francis de Sales

Quickie Fiction: Red Matters

Thanks to Donnie Darko and Star Trek, this popped into my head and had to be typed down really fast.  My apologies for wrong grammar, punctation, and spelling mistakes.

-----
Had a conversation with myself today.  It went something like this.

Tobie Prime:  Hey you!
Me:  Oh wow!  You're... wait, are you actually me?
TP:  Yep.  This is your future self talking, Tobie.  Thought I should drop by and give you a heads up.
Me: No way.  Are you seriously the future version of me?
TP:  Find it hard to believe you can look this great, huh?
Me: Actually I'm more horrified at the fact I have the ability to travel backwards in time.  Guess I saw too many episodes of Sliders, Quantum Leap and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.
TP: Oh, well at least you do know that getting a fantastic body is within your reach.
Me: I always knew that.  Tamad lang talaga ako.
TP: Exactly.  You've been laying low for too long, too many opportunities have slipped by you.  It is time to get your act together man.  Even something as simple as our Diliman comics needs to get off the ground and be completed na. 
Me: Is that a wedding band I see on your... well, my finger?
TP:  Crap!  I wasn't supposed to show you too many hints of your future.
Me:  Ay sus, I already know about that, no.  Si Egg yan no?
TP:  I'm not saying anything.
Me: Bullshit.  If you aren't saying anything, why did you come back in time then?
TP:  Okay fine, I'm here to let you know a few things you need to hear from yourself at this particular moment in time.
Me: And you know I need to here these things because...
TP: I recall this happening in my past.
Me: So you're assuming my present is your past, which makes your present my future?
TP: Don't confuse me.  I recall it worked for a few seconds.
Me: Which?  Confusing me? Or telling me things I need to hear?
TP: Uh.. wait..
Me: But what if I needed to hear them a few seconds earlier?  Or a few minutes later?  Would that affect things?
TP: Stop that!
Me: Tee hee, sorry, storyteller mindset running again.
TP: Okay, back on track.  I need to let you hear a few things you need to hear.  First of all:  Yes, you're doing the right thing.
Me: Medyo intense yan, ha.  Considering earlier you said I'm stagnating and stuck in a rut.
TP:  Crap.  I really have to define this then-
Me: -without giving too much information right?
TP: Hay naku.  Wavelength talaga.
Me:  Malamang.  We're the same person.
TP: Okay let me try again.  First, stop letting him affect you too much.  Pabayaan mo na what he decides to say to those who are close to him.  It doesn't matter if they're lies or unintentional deluded opinions or even miscommunicated reactions.  You have to just accept the fact that 1) there will ALWAYS be misinterpretations or at least people who will CHOOSE to embrace misinterpretations of the facts and 2) he needs to be "like that" to bring himself back together.  Its really hard to accept one has been too selfish and messed up a really good thing for many years.  Pagbigyan mo na.  Let him have his healing, as twisted as he chooses to approach it.
Me: Even if I don't really care about him.  Even if all I care about him is at a "he's still human" level.  Even if deep down I'm really pissed at how after using and abusing another person as a cash cow all this time, he still has the gall to cry victim.
TP: Because he is.  Because ultimately, he lost.  He has to move on.  Give him that na lang.
Me: Why are you siding with him?
TP:  I'm not.  I'm reminding you of the next thing you need to remember.
Me: I'm a good person.
TP: You are.  We are.  Today.  Yesterday.  Tomorrow.  We were raised well and we were raised with morals.  The fiber of our being is infused with understanding right and wrong.  The brain we have is marinated in doing what is proper.  And though at times we might falter, we realize and notice this and act upon it.  We don't throw the blame somewhere else.  We don't go Academy awardesque and cry wolf.   We admit our faults and take action to become someone better.  Hell, we spend each day of our lives searching for a way to become better than yesterday.
Me: Are you sure?
TP: Sometimes, little things.  Like remembering to hold our tongue instead of declaring another person the fuckwit they have become.  At other times, it can be larger, like letting an evidently less experienced driver go first, so the buses don't harass him.  Then there are the big moments-
Me: Like not having an outright post perhaps pages long about the crappy-
TP: Stop na.  Don't sink to the other's level.  Focus.  Remember who you are.  He didn't change in all those years, he won't change after reading your blog.  Ultimately it is his life.  So let him live it the way he wants.  Even if you want to defend Egg.  Egg is choosing to be quiet.  Do the same.   We know this is ultimately you wanting to help everyone understand Egg's side in all this.  But stop wanting to "prove it."  The fact is, you two are already fantastically happy.  And its a contagious happiness.  Only real love is that infectious.
Me: True.
TP: And enough with the insecurities.  About money.  About experience.  About being strong enough.
Me: It ain't easy-
TP: I know.
Me: - especially having lived under my brother's shadow, my sister's corona, my parents expectations... its not easy to feel overwhelmed.  To feel I'm still not good enough.
TP: But that's just it.  We've been wired to think we aren't-
Me: -so we keep pushing to be better.  Right.  Forgot about that.  The insecurities aren't meant to be mistaken as true.  They're meant to keep me on my toes.  To challenge me to be better.  Yeah.  Have to keep that in my head.  Ano pa ba?
TP: Your dreams aren't over, Tobie.
Me: Which ones?  The ones about someday bringing home for my parents an Oscar?  Or the one about making a fantastic story, be it a novel, a play or a movie, which moves people and reminds them how much life has to offer?  Or the one about becoming the owner and publisher of a major rpg line? 
TP:  All of them.   Including the ones you didn't even realize you were dreaming of.
Me: Not over.  Meaning?  They'll come to pass?
TP:  You know my answer to that.
Me:  And its not you won't tell me.  It is, "It is up to me."
TP:  Exactly.
Me: Wow.  This conversation does help me feel better. 
TP: It is meant to.
Me: At least warn me this.  Do we really end up having some ABS-CBN versus GMA 7 Presidential battle?  Something like Kris Aquino versus Manny Pacquiao for President?  I need to know if I have to consider escaping to some less insane country...
TP: Uh... well... oh look, the time travel energies are fading...
Me: Hoy!  Teka lang! Iba na lang.  Do those who ACTUALLY believe in Twilight as a religion gain true religious status?
TP:  Fading... returning to... future...
Me: Ang daya naman!  Sige, eto na lang! 

My future self vanished then, with lingering images of boxing gloves on banners with the slogan "Hanggang Round Two ka lang!" and "Pilipinas, Game ka na ba!" being thrown against each other intermixed with rainbow colored banners chanting for change.  I look at my laptop and read that Egg is headed for the bank.  I wonder if Egg too will have an encounter with some futureself. 

I wanted to ask myself, "In the future, do they all understand?"
And somehow I already know the answer. 

----------------------------------
That was cathartic.

Just giving a shout out to a bunch of new friends/acquaintances I have thanks to Egg.
Hello to Mina, Jessica, Perry, Mahar, Ryan and Joseph.
Glad to have met/communicated/chatted with you.

Quickie Fiction: Opportunity

The winding tunnels beneath the earth were a sight few would have the opportunity to witness.  Fewer still would have the opportunity to watch the very rock and crystals hidden deep within the dark confines of the land slide away and grant one safe passage through them.  Acheu traveled rapidly beneath the earth with only the constant beat of his clapping hands and timed intonations. 

His journey was echoed by the flight of one saffron dragon that charted a precise course through the now darkening clouds that littered the sky.  With each beat of its wings, and every undulation of its serpentine body, Nicodemus soared through the air intent to reach the Seat of Faith as soon as it was possible.  The dragon ignored the brimming tears that trailed wandering rivers down its scaled cheeks.  It ignored the still existent but rapidly fading presence of Vandross' words in its thoughts.  All the dragon knew was that there was no denying Vandross has finally found his Other, and as was the practice of the Faith, Vandross and his Other would have to be tested.

That, and the fact that it meant Nicodemus was no longer to be a part of Vandross' life.

"He will have to face me," Acheu mumbled aloud, even if there was no one around to hear his words.  Acheu felt a greater sense of courage, and the pretense of speaking aloud his plans gave him a certain degree of fulfillment.  It was a false mask of courage, however.  As it was typical of Acheu, such admissions were things he typically could only speak of only though letters.  Or through the rumors born from his actions or stories.  He was brave so long as there was no one to contradict him.   But when it came to face to face confrontations, the truth would always be far too strong for him to twist.  But in the solace of the dark tunnel beneath the world which his intonations effortlessly carved, Acheu felt such pronouncements to be empowering words.  The confrontation he was bringing himself towards was one that he had long delayed.  When questioned, he had many excuses ranging from lacking the necessity to deal with such things immediately, to feeling physically exhausted or under the weather, to even claims that he was the one standing upon a higher moral ground and to act first was to lose that standing.  But the truth he would never admit was the fact he was absolutely aware the confrontation would be an admission of his failure in his responsibilities and role as the father of his children.  An admission of his inability to provide what was expected of him.  And it was an admission Acheu's pride would never allow him to make.

He planned to confront his son, Sunaj, and tell him the world has come to provide him an opportunity to regain honor in the family's name.  He planned to tell him that destiny has provided Sunaj a second chance to prove his love for his family.

He could never do so in the past out of the sheer brutal truth that Acheu was fully aware of:  Sunaj would not want to.  Sunaj would have no reason to do so.  Not after the neglect, insult and abuse he had to endure from his father for the last few years when Sunaj still maintained ties with Acheu.  Sunaj's choice to cut himself free from Acheu was not an act of cruel malice or vengeful selfishness.   It was liberation from abuse and pain.  It was freedom from being long imprisoned beside a monstrosity that devoured another's self-esteem.

"This is a real opportunity," Acheu rehearsed into the shadows that blurred past him and imagined Sunaj's reactions.   "A real opportunity stands here."  

And that was what made today different. 

Acheu realized with reports regarding the Other, the Patermaster would truly have the need to confirm and capture this pair.  And if Sunaj were to succeed, Acheu's family would truly regain honor and esteem among the Fehbed.  To not confront Sunaj today was to waste an opportunity to further Acheu's standing among their people.  And Acheu realized that was far more important than his pride.

"They will be tested," Nicodemus mumbled to itself as he sliced through the sky, "and if this... Other is found to be unworthy..." Nicodemus desperately wanted to imagine scenes of triumphant and rightful vengeance.  It wanted to visualize a montage of brutally just punishments to be dealt upon this intruding serpent whose green scales lacked the vibrance and beauty of its golden ones.  It wanted to bear witness to this unimpressive ursurper being caught as merely some pretender who had through some form of unknown incantation twisted truth and emotion to its liking to deceive and destroy everything that Nicodemus held sacred.

But Nicodemus could not.

In the mindscape, the two dragons had confronted each other and within the undeniable incorruptibility of that psychic communication, Nicodemus had clearly seen it was Vandross' image that shone upon Savat's own soul.

They were.

And Nicodemus knew all it had was empty threats.

But wait.

A growing dot upon Nicodemus mindscape flickered.
A darkness.

Nicodemus realized, an opportunity.
A chance to spin the story in its own favor.
An opportunity to be seen not as the false partner, but instead as the discarded treasure.

Nicodemus realized it was in its power to lie.  All it had to do was ensure that others would not have a glimpse of Savati's mindscape.  And that, Nicodemus realized, was something far easier to accomplish than others realized.

Quickie Fiction: Help

The two monks moved stealthily, their own shadows chasing after them as they made their separate ways through the winding corridors of the Seat of Faith.  When Ammen's dying warning reached their ears, the two monks immediately vocalized messages through the song to each other and communicated a place to rendezvous in secret.  Tajuc sent out a staccato message to Nayd and failing to receive any reply realized that the third monk was already dead.  Informing Romac of his discovery, Tajuc took a gamble and decided to return to the stables.  It was quite unlikely, he reasoned, that the assassin would still be there.

Romac reached the rendezvous point earlier than Tajuc.  In a small sack, he had carried with him his personal tuning dagger, some coin and his ragged book of psalms.  A member of the Voice of the Faith typically owned such a book; new intonations, harmonies and songs learned would be transcribed in them for review.  Fewer more dedicated monks would use it for the more studious study, understanding and the composition of new songs.  Romac was one of those who did just that.  Quickly opening his book, he skimmed through the pages to search for an experimental piece he had composed that may prove useful against the assassins.  Combining the softer chords of Auhm, the harmony of the divine fire with high notes of Vitaesis, Romac had theorized one could create a melody that allowed a person to perceive beyond the normal human range of senses.  Heat would become visible to one's naked eye.  The assassins were soundless and Ammen's warning suggested they had a mastery of stealth.   Romac hoped the melody he had written would work as he had hoped.

Tajuc saw the bloody remains of his friend and fought the urge to rush forward and offer final bitter farewells.  There is no time to mourn the dead, he reminded himself and quickly scanned the stables if there was anyone else present.  While the other dragons seemed to be contently sleeping in their pens, one dragon was awake and noiselessly observed the monk.  Tajuc looked at the bloody wall and saw the senseless markings that were written in his friend's own blood.  Looking past the wall, Tajuc saw the party broken pen and the dragon inside that quietly observed him.

"You saw what happened?"

The dragon nodded in response.  Tajuc shook his head in disbelief.  "And you did not try to help him?"

The dragon smashed its tail against the damaged portions of the cage.  A small whirlwind, barely a foot tall, manifested at Tajuc's feet, causing some dust and other trash to swirl.

"The assassin," Tajuc continued his line of inquiry, "You saw what it looked like?"

The dragon undulated its still growing hair.  It was, after all, younger than most dragons that were present.  Tajuc deciphered the motions and nodded in agreement.  "The Kabal.  Some rumors say the Kabal is merely a myth.  That in truth they are merely guards in fancy clothing.  Others whisper of the Kabal as some dark reminder of a painful song the current Hierophant once sang in hopes of further defending the Sea of Faith.  You are certain it was one of the Kabal."

The dragon nodded.

Chambers away, Romac completed the melody and felt the winding music begin to coil around him like a reassuring snake.  Romac saw his field of vision exponentially become a colorful observation of what he looked at, with varying hues suggesting if a person is gifted, if a weapon was drawn, and if the other was in a good or not too good state of health.  That very moment Romac completed the melody, his eyes caught sight of the Kabal assassin literally waiting for him to be too distracted to notice the killing blow.  The assassin had blended among the shadows and simply waited for the right moment to strike.

Can't let him know I can see him, Romac reminded himself and tried to stay calm.  He knew he too had to wait for the perfect moment to enact his counter stroke.

Tajuc had unlocked the cages of two dragons in the stable.  Neither had found their Others nor chosen to share an Onus Bond with a servant of the Faith.  The first was an older dragon compared to the one which tried to help Ammen.  With scales that mirrored the sky of a coming dawn, hints of purple still mingled among the hues that shifted from red to orange.  In a few years, the dragon's saffron hues would shine and come enough summers, become truly golden.  Like all the other dragons, its snake-like form defied the fact it was a strong and mighty beast capable of flight.  Its wings, like most dragons could spread out from its midsection, each wing the length of its body, or be folded completely compact against its own side, concealing any trace of the beast's ability to fly.  It had only two manifested horns upon its head.  A second pair had barely erupted from the scales, and were mere bumps upon the scaled head of the beast.   Its eyes were like a tiny flame that sought more fuel to grow.  Tajuc learned it referred to itself as Adubiem.   The second dragon was a full adult, with an armored body that celebrated the hues of steel.  Its wings, which numbered six rather than the typical two, were tiny foot long protrusions upon its slender body.  Azure eyes set against a dark void peered from its angular face.  It named itself Akmati and like Adubiem, it had not ceased to seek its own Other.

"My brother and I seek your service.  News had reaches us of one in the Faith who has found his Other.  And the Hierophant has reacted in a manner which brings us to question what fate may lie in store for the two.  Will you assist us?" Tajuc asked the two dragons, and both dragons glanced at one another, surprised by the monk's forwardness.  

There was no hesitation however in their reply.  Both signaled yes.

Romac however embraced in his thoughts the word no.  While his beard helped conceal the focus in his eyes and fear in his heart, the knowledge of the eventual combat was a bit more obvious in his hands.  His fingers trembled with contained anticipation.   He was far from weaponless, having long been a practitioner of the Dragon song intonations and harmonies, but he was also well aware that the assassin was someone who was stalking its prey within the Seat of Faith.   That certainly defined the assassin to be of considerable skill.

With his song-enhanced perceptions, Romac had noted that the assassin had remained in the same place for the last five minutes.  It seemed seemingly preoccupied and reading a tome did not present himself as a viable target.  Maybe he needed to present himself a bit more vulnerable.  Was it because the Kabal sensed the song he had enchanted himself with?  Or was it because he had a tuning dagger close at hand?

Misdirection it seemed would be necessary to further lure the assassin closer. 

Romac rose to his full height, leaving both the book of psalms and dagger on the floor.  He walked up towards the nearby window and was careful to not move too close and become an easy kill.  Romac's intentions after all, was to lure the assassin closer, and not allow himself to become an target easily thrown out the window.   He felt the cold rush of wind and pretended to enjoy the view.  The assassin still remained still.   The lure needed to be more appealing.  The target needed to look more vulnerable.  Romac decided to risk it and closed his eyes.  A moment of prayer.  A moment of sleep.   Or at least, Romac mused, the assassin would think that was what it was.

He did not anticipate that the assassin was keen enough to see past even that.  With a wordless motion, the assassin had signaled his companion to approach from the other side.  The Kabal had anticipated Romac to be a far more difficult target and had taken steps to deal with him more efficiently.  The scar upon the monk's face, one that was dealt to him by the Patermaster himself, was proof of this.  Romac was a survivor in many ways.  A warrior more than a monk.

The two assassins closed in for a kill, their deadly weapons ready to sup upon the monk's blood.

icky Love bOosTer

I am a good person.

I was raised with values. I was brought up to have morals.  I grew up knowing that there are rules and that they were made to be followed.   And I am well aware that there are times rules cannot apply, as well as the fact there have been times that I have broken the rules with a clear understanding that I have chosen to do so.

But I definitely understand how in a relationship certain rules must always apply.

The first is Trust.

In any relationship, there has to be trust.  Real trust.  Honest trust.   Not the kind where you sleep around in secret while your partner waits for you at home.  Not the kind where you tell the rest of the world you're single almost as if you're embarrassed to admit someone holds your heart.   You must have trust and it must be real.

Some people mistake being possessive for trust.   Other people mistake being investigative as a test of trust.  Ultimately trust is not something you do.  It is something you live with another person.  And when this kind of trust is broken, and one honestly and truly hopes to regain it and repair the damage wrought by its abuse, the one who has done this can NEVER ever claim to have fully paid their dues.   That is not the breaker's right.  That is not the breaker's choice.   For something that is lived, the breaker for the rest of his life will and must do what he can to regain it.

And if that breaker does it again.   And again.   One can only imagine the level of selfish pride that person could have to even claim he's paid his dues.

Trust is a tangible thing in a relationship.  It is a good pair of worn yet study shoes that helps a couple get through adversity.  It is a well-made umbrella that can hold up against any storm.  Sometimes, it might leak.  Or sometimes, some rocks might slip in and make the toes hurt, but only an intentional act can truly break it, and only a lie from the start can make it weak from the beginning.

The second rule is Sensitivity.

In a relationship, two people choose to share their lives to each other.   Two people allow their experiences to become a wonderfully symbiotic swirl of lives, dreams, fears and passions to interweave and flow with each other.  But this closeness has a price and that price is the rule of sensitivity.  One should never ever focus solely on oneself or simply wait for the other to complain.  One must learn to feel his partner's nuances and to be able to read his partner's reactions.  This is a bit trickier due to the simple fact many relationships tend to have their own little games.  Even worse with the fact many people tend to think the games ARE necessary for a relationship to work.

But no, a real relationship works because in terms of sensitivity, the partners are well aware of each other's feelings, and know when something goes too far or if something is getting abusively selfish.

It is easy to mistake sensitivity for many less-favorable things:  Being overly sensitive or emotionally melodramatic is not being sensitive.  Neither is being over-protective or jealous.  While any normal relationship may have some level of teasing, joking around, light-hearted games or moments of being mysterious or secretive for the right reasons, sensitivity kicks in when one considers simple questions:  How will my partner really feel about me doing this?  Would I be okay if this is done by my partner as well?  

One doesn't need to have telepathy or to wait for a fight to know if the other is hurt or demeaned by one's actions.  One merely has to be sensitive.  And yes, it can get very hard to be sensitive if one's focus is more on how others would view you as a couple.  Many couples get too caught up in "looking good and perfect" for those around them, they forget to consider how the partner might already be feeling internally.

The third rule is Patience.  

In many ways, this is a tough rule.  After all, patience can too easily be confused with being passive.  Or being non-responsive.  But if one has learned to bear in mind the first two rules, trust and sensitivity can make patience pretty much second nature to accomplish.

Patience sadly is the one most easily abused as well by a partner who fails to truly have the first two rules.  In a relationship, one has to learn that the role of patience goes far beyond merely waiting for the other to get home from work, or to wait for say, a few minutes after an unresponded to message then complain or suspect something is up.  Patience is learning to accept the simple truth that we are all individuals - people with their own interests, dreams, hobbies and sources of joy.  In some cases, we find someone who shares many of this.  In others, we find our differences make the relationship more interesting.   Patience is what allows us to love the fact that our partner finds joys in other things as well, and shares that experience with us.  Patience in a healthy relationship is going to see a movie you don't normally see because you will enjoy seeing your partner who has been waiting to see it for months so happy to watch it.   Or watching one go shopping and not being impatient, because you know the other is aware you are waiting and still wants to make the right choice.  It is spending time together in a room, quietly busy with your own responsibilities or hobbies, but never feeling the need to demand attention from the other.  It is understanding that a relationship will always have some level of give and take.  It is clearly embracing the fact that, thanks to trust and sensitivity, you do this because you are happy how it makes your partner happy, and you know your partner does the same for you.

The last rule for me Responsibility. 

In a relationship that works, both partners are responsible.    This is a responsibility that reflects the first three rules and at the same time reinforces them.    From the most basic level, in a relationship, both partners know what they have to do from the economic to the emotional level.   This, after all, ain't The SIMS where one can create a person in the house solely made to work all day and generate money while the other person burns through the funds, parties all night and lives the life in some ways all of us secretly hope to have thanks to how popular media has brainwashed us.  This is real life.  Money is required to buy food, to pay the bills, and work is necessary to get that money.  Beyond merely monetary responsibilities, there are of course other responsibilities such as keeping the house clean, having food to eat, making sure the budget is maintained and never neglecting your children (typically at the start, your pets) and their own needs. 

And even beyond that, there are the personal responsibilities as well as the responsibilities to one's partner.

No, I don't mean having to "update them when you are out" because that's covered in trust and sensitivity and patience.    I don't mean pointing fingers either at who should have done what and whatnot.  But I mean, remembering to have time for your partner one way or another at the same time being aware of how limited the time can also be.   I mean making plans with your partner to enjoy the fruits of your hard-earned cash together and not simply splurging it unless someone complains.   I mean understanding one cannot condense failing in the first three rules for a number of years, being forgiven and given more than just a second chance, then making a huge fuss when your partner makes a similar mistake.  Responsibility in many ways is similar to being equal.  Being fair.  And once again, while absolute equality is impossible (after all, we aren't able to literally measure experiences and events and cut them in half) it can be accomplished with the first three rules guiding you.  And each time you accomplish it, the first three rules are even strengthened further.

Some of you readers might find it strange that love isn't a rule.  Or why other things like honesty or communication are not listed as rules.  Personally, its because they aren't rules. 
Honesty is a choice born from one's desire to accomplish Trust.   Honesty is also a choice to achieve a level of sensitivity.   Communication is developed in the yearning to achieve all four rules better.   And Love?

Love was always the elusive factor in any relationship. 
Truth be told, many relationships existed before love came into the picture.   Some forged relationships out of sheer lust and the desire to have more frequent sex.  Others were created out of necessity, be it due to cultural, societal or financial reasons.   There are even a few that exist out of the sole need to appear to be together.

Then there are those who learn to love each other.  Many believe this is the best form of love.  But few realize this is looking at things in reverse.   This has the frightening possibility of mistaking compromise and settling for "the second best" as love.    This is looking at love as the "reason" the four rules must be achieved.  You hear people saying, "I HAVE to trust him cause I love him," rather than "I love him because I can trust him."  While it sounds more romantic to say the first, its not being realistic. 

And there are those, rarer still, fall in love. 
Not the first time you meet you want to know what the other is like in bed.  Not the when you first looked at the other person you realized that person was the splitting image of your biggest celebrity crush.   Not the we meet and we knew it was forever.   Although in some odd ways, things that start that way CAN still lead to falling in love.

Falling in love isn't about when it happens.  

It is about simply feeling love is actually present and real because the four rules above are constantly lived and nourished in the relationship.

It is learning to treat the other person the way you know you too should be treated, and achieving a life shared despite being two actual physical individuals.   And from that symbiotic relationship, the four rules very easily and naturally come into place.  

Cause that's what love ultimately is:  A mutual level of trust, sensitivity, patience and responsibility that encourages honesty, passion, communication, openness and loyalty. 

And love cannot be faked.
No matter how many other people you convince otherwise with lies.

I am a good person.
And one of my mistakes was getting interested in someone who wasn't free.  While I can state the facts that their relationship, before they broke up, was not founded on these rules, I will plainly admit the fact what I did was still something others would look unkindly towards.  However, between me and the other person, the rules are there.  We live them.  Every single day.  Every single second.  And we fell in love.  

Something this real doesn't happen every day. 
Something this connected is worth seeing to the end.

I have no regrets.

Soon, opinions will come.  Insults will be thrown.  Claims be made.  The facts can be gathered.  Or opinions might just be shared.  Maybe there will be lies.  Maybe half-truths.  Maybe holier than thou statements or declarations of supposed moral fiber.  But ultimately the truth shall be clear.  Our lives shall prove it.  Demonstrate it.    Reveal it.

This is real.  This is love. 

This is worth it.


----------------------------------------
strange title?  Maybe.  There is a meaning in everything after all.

other title choices included:   "Call me what you will.." (but it sounded too aggressive), "the Four Real Rules of Love" (but that seemed too boring, although has viral potential) Non-Fiction:  Why I don't Do Quickies (but only works for those who know I usually post Quickie Fiction) and The Rules (which kinda was too vague).

Quickie Fiction: Delusions

The gathered soldiers numbered in the thousands, and from the sky, the Febhed appeared as a slow moving forest of stone and steel.  In their armor of chain steel and crystal armaments, the Febhed army marched through the land, undeterred by terrain nor weather.  With the lead squadrons Paterons invoking the secret voice of the earth to tame the rough path before them, the Febhed legions marched easily through the now leveled sloped and rocky roads, overcoming exhaustion with much ease.   It was not difficult to study the general direction of their march to suggest their intended destination:  The Seat of Faith.

Their journey did not transpire unnoticed, of course.

The Dragonarchers of the Faith routinely patrolled the skies, and even during the initial days of the march, a few riders had noticed the movement of the large numbers of Febhed troops and quickly reported their observations to the Hierophant.  Earlier approximates figured the armed formations to number in the hundreds.  Later patrols would frighteningly estimate the Febhed units to reach the tens of thousands, and in some ways, these highly exaggerated numbers would lead to the Faith itself approaching the conflict with much more violence that expected.

A violence that would someday be come be remembered and retold by the generations to come.

Donato marched ahead of the regiment that was placed by his father under his command.  Though young and inexperienced, there stood deep within him a desperate need to prove himself.   The absence of his older brother was a fact Donato hoped would be forgotten and that in its place the determination and dedication of the younger son would be transcribed.  Donato held little love for his missing brother.  Most of his life was punctuated by his father's constant proclamations of how things would have been better if Sunaj had never turned his back upon the Febhed.  This, Donato believed, was the perfect opportunity for him to show to his father that he was indeed ready and more capable than Sunaj ever can be.  This was to become his shining moment.

Across the many leagues, a quieter less noticeable march unfolded.  With a determination no less real and no less focused than that of the Febhed army, the Pateron Acheu made his way through the long winding tunnels that stretched out from the Febhed Confessionarium.  Though each step was an invitation for another painful reminder of his already impaired ability to walk, the Pateron ignored every spike of growing agony.  He knew he had to reach his destination before the Febhed armies reached the Seat of Faith.  He walked faster, shifting weight away from his pained leg in hopes of lumbering quicker.  Acheu after all believed he alone could speak to him and convince him that now was the time to act.   After everything that has happened,  Acheu still believed his prodigal son Sunaj still thought highly of his father.  This, Acheu believed, was the day he was to finally convince his son he was right all along.   This was the day he was to see Sunaj come to him, apologise for his pride, and beg to be given a second chance.

In many ways, both father and son traveled with hopes in their heart, and belief in their mind.   In many ways, both father and son were empowered by the goodness in their intentions.

Neither was to change the fact both heeded nothing but the self delusions that they had embraced.

Donato had never comprehended the secret voice of the earth.  It did not matter which advisors Acheu had hired to teach him the intonations most basic notes.  Nor did it make any difference when Acheu himself attempted to train his son to understand how the earth could be tamed to obey one's desires.   The child spent hours sitting before a number of advisores, instructors and tutors, each with their own teaching style and training methods, only to come face to face with the truth which Acheu could not accept:  Donato was unable to harness even the most basic of Febhed sorcery. 

The denial had its roots.  Considering how unsimple Acheu's childhood and pre-Pateron life was, one could easily see why Acheu wanted his children to become Pateron as well.  All those years of playing to the Faith's needs, and fearing the mythical dangers that the Febhed were said to pose have imbued upon Acheu a desire to have his own children escape that manner of a possible lifestyle.  And for a child to learn to harness the secret voice of the earth was an easy seat among those selected by the Patermaster himself.

No Pateron had ever gone hungry.
No Pateron had ever suffered the experience of being homeless ever again.

But this denial was powerless to the fact that the failure of Donato to learn the intonation was the second time Acheu had to suffer hearing this truth.  Years ago, before Sunaj had walked way from his father's watchful gaze and frustrating demands, he too attempted to harness this intonation.   Sunaj, like his brother after him, had failed.

Acheu reached the tunnel he had sought.   The limestone markings upon its mouth easily confirmed that he stood at the shaft that would bring him to the tiny village where Sunaj had opted to move.  Far from the Confessionarium, the place provided Sunaj a place to start anew, especially after the loss of the old village where he lived once with his whole family.

The old man felt another stab of pain shoot up his leg.  He leaned against the nearby wall and slowly brought himself into a squat.  Rubbing one hand against the ankle, he looked at the swollen area and shook his head.  Another pain to overcome.  Another hurdle to leap past.

For Acheu, he believed his life was filled with mountains.  Challenges that demanded he find the strength to overcome them.  While in the beginning, viewing his life in this manner allowed Acheu the chance to find inner focus, the years that followed saw him becoming soft and merely traversing the said mountains if ignoring them meant a loss of face.

Donato understood his father in more ways than the Pateron realized.  Long being the mute witness to how important his father felt about what others would say of him.  He remembered many of them, some painful, some dumb, yet all so seemingly crucial to his father that Acheu would be sensitive to their words and reactions more than his children's own needs.

"Father of two... with no mother in sight.  Did she leave him?  Or are the children adopted droppins of another man?"

"Was he truly allowing that failure of a son to live among the tribes instead of serving the Guard?"

"Has he no shame?  Pateron and yet his children are illiterate to the earth's own words?"

As Donato echoed every command other contingents were given, he recalled how he reacted when his father first instructed him to lead the contingent.  Another regret was planted in his heart.  Another time he could have showed his father he was ready.   Another time he spoke instead of his fear.  This was all to change.  Donato promised himself that today was the day his father would look at him with pride.   Acheu believed in him after all, Donato mused.  That should be all that he needed.

Acheu on the other hand slammed both hands together and began to create a steady rhythm of clapping.  With each impact, he grunted out a syllable, forming a gradually solidifying intonation that shaped the tunnel floor.  Smooth rock transformed into a sloping surface. Bringing himself down onto the ground, he shoved against the wall and allowed gravity to take hold of him.  The massive forming slide carried Acheu rapidly down the tunnel, with redirected water flowing into the channel to reduce the presence of friction.  It was a less than dignified way for one to travel for Acheu, but there were no witnesses after all and time was of the essence.

But both moved forward, fueled by their individual yet mirrored desire to prove themselves better.  To prove themselves worthy.

Fueled by the very delusion that what they were should be enough.

Quickie fiction: Undeniable

Golden water ebbed and flowed against the soft sands of the massive beach.  The salt spray made his skin raw.  The cold wind made the fine hairs of his arms tingle.  Knee-deep in the water, the young man gazed into the distant horizon.  His eyes did not focus on anything specific in the distance.  He merely gazed away perhaps hoping to find answers to the questions that were dancing through his mind.  Questions could be dangerous things, you see.  Like edged shards of ivory, or smooth sharpened barbs, questions could cut through one's masks and reveal bloody bitter truths.  They could tear open shrouds meant to conceal the blinding painful truth.

The man raised his hands towards the sky, slowly opening his hand to motion his fingers towards the clouds.  Immediately in response, the sky changes.  The clouds break away and reveal a clear shimmering sky.   Fading hints of where the stars once shone could still be glimpsed, had one known how to look. 

With a motion of his other hand, the waters began to grow calmer.   The rhythmic motion of waves settled down into a barely perceptible stillness.  The froth of the waters faded away.  The whole ocean settled into a placid glass-like surface, reflecting the clear sky above.

The man looked down upon the mirror-like water and stared at the reflection that gazed back.  The tired skin.  The angry eyes.  The broad nose.  The imperfect growth of hair upon his chest.  The man was old.  Perhaps within his late sixties.  The face was familiar.

"Your mindscape image," a voice asked and the whole world seemed to darkened in response.  Clouds suddenly emerged from the clear sky.  The waters began to tremble.  The beach shifted as rocks began to emerge from the very earth.  "That image is that of your Other?"

"Why are you here?" the man in the water spat out towards the sound of the voice.  He sought the source of the intruding presence and immediately found it a few yards by the shoreline, standing a few feet from the very sands.  The intruder stood in a non-threatening stance, with his hands held loosely at his sides.  His hair danced with the sudden onset of wind.  His eyes looked at the other nervously.   It was clear the intruder knew his presence here was not welcome.

But the man in the waters who could shape the world instinctively could not deny what he was seeing.   Here, in the mindscape of a dragon, the truth was impossible to conceal.  Here, in the mindscape of a dragon, the Other's face could be seen.

"Nicodemus," the man by the beach called to the other, "I... really am sorry to intrude upon your mindscape.  I heard the sounds of battle.  I could not see what was going on from where I had been imprisoned.  But I could feel..."

"Savati," the man standing amidst the water shook his head, "You should not have come here."

"I just think that..."

"Haven't you have done enough damage?" Nicodemus snarled back.  The clouds thickened now into darkening mountains.  The tide had begun to rise.  The waters had turned rough.  "Haven't you realized how much you've complicated everything else?  Vandross was my Onus Bond.  He was the one I had chosen to become tied to in both soul and life.  And you had to come and ruin it all?  Complicate things into this... this..."

"Nicodemus," Savati raised both hands in hopes Nicodemus would stop and give him a chance to explain.  But the act merely incensed Nicodemus further.

"YOU RUINED IT ALL!"  Nicodemus howled and the world howled with him.  Lightning tore through the sky, as the waves violently rose and crashed against the sands.  The winds howled into monstrous surges that cut through the air and left thunder in its wake.  Mountains rose from the sands, then buckled against their own immense weight, crumbling into landslides and massive fissures that attempted to swallow the sea.  "YOU  RUINED THE BOND I SHARE WITH VANDROSS!  ALL THOSE YEARS OF TRUST, OF SECURITY, OF SHARED STRENGTH AND PASSION!  YOU CAME INTO OUR LIVES AND RUINED IT ALL!"

Savati was thrown from the invisible place where he stood by a massive wave that towered over forty feet high.  The sands opened like a hungry maw as he tumbled backwards into the ground.   Lightning then struck and one side of the rocky mountain exploded, becoming a terrible landslide of boulders that sought to bury Savati beneath the earth. 

"I HAVE BLED FOR HIM!  I HAVE SERVED HIM AND CARED FOR HIM!  I HAVE PROTECTED HIM, FED HIM, WATCHED OVER HIM!   I HAVE DONE ALL THESE THINGS AND ALL YOU HAVE DONE WAS COME AND MAKE EVERYTHING THAT I HAVE DONE POINTLESS!   MEANINGLESS!  DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH YOU'VE DONE?"

Nicodemus rose from the waters now, his body effortlessly rising from the chaotic weather that reflected his rage.  He rose higher and higher, until the very beachside he stood before was now an island before him that became the focal point of a massive uncaring storm. 

"Nicodemus please!"  Savati cried out but Nicodemus cared not to hear a single word.  Though Savati could very easily fight back and affect the mindscape as well, he had hoped Nicodemus would instead try to see.  

All Nicodemus had to do was see, after all.

The mindscape was the shared mental link all Dragons could enter at will.  Like a sanctuary from the real world, the mindscape was a world of perceptions and time outside that of the physical realm.  Older dragons referred to the mindscape as the Internal Song of every Dragon.  A world of music that was instinctively shaped by a dragons' own thoughts and feelings.  And any other dragons in the vicinity could easily visit another's mindscape by merely resonating to the dragon's internal song.   While the mindscape was immaterial and purely musical imagery, it offered a safe ground for dragons to challenge one another, to communicate, to train and learn the many intonations and harmonies of their ancestors and one other final purpose:  in the mindscape, a dragon manifested in the form of their Other. 

"Nicodemus!"

The oceans rose like massive fingers, then closed upon the beach like a crushing watery fist.  The island was drowned by the golden waves and vanished from the mindscape.

"WHY COULD YOU NOT JUST LEAVE US ALONE?!?"

The storm slowly began to abate.  The waters began to settle.  And where the island once was, Savati began to emerge, rising slowly from the depths unharmed by the illusionary assault. 

"Because I can't," Savati sadly admitted, "Look at me, Nicodemus.  Look at me."

Nicodemus looked at Savati now.  It wasn't the first time, truth be told.  Back upon the vessel when Nicodemus and Vandross first encountered Savati, the dragon had instinctively reached out through the mindscape to ask why the other dragon was stealing from the humans.   Even that early, Nicodemus had seen what Savati's mindscape self appeared as.

Vandross. 
 
Nicodemus could not deny the familiar face.   The muscular form.  The dark hair.  The deep, penetrating gaze of his eyes.  The uneasy smile on his face.   Savati's mindscape self was the exact image of Vandross. 

"You can see," Savati asked, as he rose from the waters even higher, floating upwards til he reached Nicodemus' level in the sky.  In some ways, neither of them had moved at all.  It was the rest of the world moving to bring them to the same level.  "You can see why I can't just go."

"But what about me?" Nicodemus begged, "What about everything I have done?  What about the sacrifices I have made?  We all see in the mindscape the Other we are meant to find, but in this massive world of billions of faces, the chances of finding the Other are next to impossible.  That was why the Onus Bond was originally forged among our kind with the humans.   So we need not feel alone.  So we need not feel incomplete."

"But Nicodemus," Savati reached out to the other, who at first pulled away.  "This was not my choice either.   I did not come into your life seeking to take Vandross away.  You know that to be true.  In our mindscapes, we can see what our Other is like.  We know in some ways what our Other is, but we never really know who he or she is.  We never even know their names, not until we see them at last, in both the mindscape and in the physical world.  In this case, I found him.  Or maybe he found me.  But ultimately, this was not planned.  This was not planned."

"What are you saying then?"  Nicodemus spat back,  "This is destiny?  This is fate?  This is the improbably becoming possible?  What makes you more special than me?  What makes you deserve him more?"

"I don't know,"  Savati shook his head, "And I don't even believe in those things.  I've always believed in freewill.  I've always believed that our own choices govern our destiny.   Nicodemus, I would walk away if I must.  But I would be a fool not to see this through."

"BUT WHAT ABOUT ME?"  Nicodemus roared back.   "Do I just get thrown aside?  Do I just have to move on?  Handle it alone?  Deal with the shattered bond as if it never was meant to be?"

Savati could not give an answer.   Inwardly, he wanted to remind Nicodemus that his own Other was still somewhere out there.  He wanted Nicodemus to realize this was something bigger than him.  Bigger than Savati.  Even bigger than Vandross.   This was something that just had to come to pass.  He wanted Nicodemus to realize what all dragons knew:  that the Onus Bond was believed by humans to be like the finding of one's Other.   That there were dragons meant to be bound to another.  But in truth, the Onus Bond was meant for a dragon to choose a human match, because the search for the Other often lead to failure. 

But here, Savati and Vandross found each other.  

Despite all odds.   Despite all circumstances.   Despite the time, the distance, the separate lives and diverse backgrounds and events that shaped them, their roads lead to that one single moment when they found each other.

"You," Savati found himself saying before thinking, "are a fool if you think you can stop this."

* * *

"What do you mean?"  Vandross rose from Nicodemus side and approached Savati angrily.  Though unarmed, the archer reached out with one hand and grabbed a hold of Savati's collar.  The green dragon, in the form of Mesin, struggled to retain her footing as Vandross pulled her close to him.    "What have you done to Nicodemus?"

"The truth--" Savati gasped between breaths, "I've only told.. your dragon.. the truth.."

Alucita and Sunaj knew better than to interfere.  Vandross stared into Savati's eyes.  His anger found itself challenged by feelings of recognition.   Just as he could read from Alucita that she was being honest and sincere, he could see in Savati's eyes that the dragon was being the same.

"Can you help Nicodemus?"  Vandross whispered, almost pleadingly to Savati, "Can you?"

Savati closed her eyes.   Tears threatened to fall once more.   The dragon held them at bay, however, hoping the archer had not noticed them.  "I... how can I if I am the source of the problem?"

"Nicodemus means a lot to me,"  Vandross admitted, "The bond I share with Nicodemus is precious to me.  Do you understand this?  What... you and I share... the connection we have... what I have with Nicodemus... does only one truly have to exist?"

Both turned to see Nicodemus already standing.   Vandross wanted to rush forward to embrace his friend but the saffron dragon motioned him to wait.  Alucita stepped back, feeling slightly uncertain if their captives would now use their superior numbers against them.   Savati pulled back, fearing Nicodemus' rage. 

The saffron dragon plunged one claw into the ground.   From it, a single stalk grew and began to unfurl into a larger healthy plant.  Flowers bloomed, waned then fell in a quickened pace as if the passage of seconds tracked the turning of months.  Vandross easily deciphered the words.

"No," Savati cried out, understanding Nicodemus' intentions, "That's not true!  You don't have to!"  Her protests fell upon uncaring ears.  With a shove off the ground, Nicodemus rose into the sky, leaving a trail of lazily dancing petals falling in its wake.

"Where?" Sunaj asked aloud, only to see Alucita motion him to stay close to her.  "The golden dragon has chosen to fly back to the Faith.  To report that Vandross had found his Other,"  Alucita explained, having deciphered the Dragon Song from the communication Nicodemus had left.  Vandross fell onto his knees.  His head bowed low, but it was clear it was not exhaustion that  prompted him to do so. 

"Is that a good thing?" Sunaj whispered back, unfamiliar with the ways of the Faith. 

"Typically yes.  All among the Faith seek to find their Other.  However, if the Other is found, it is uncertain what will happen to the Onus Bond.  Among the Faith as well, you see, the Onus Bond is inviolate.    This is the first time for one already in an Onus Bond to ever find his Other."

"Then what will happen to the gold dragon?"

Alucita stared at the now disappearing golden shape in the sky, "We do not know.  But somehow, I am certain it will not be something good."

Quickie Fiction: Misdirection

With his back against the wall, the man futilely searched the chamber for any sign of his attacker's presence.   Sweat dotted his face.  Blood stained his robes.  Within the multi-chambered structure known as the stables, the Voice of Faith known as Ammen slid a hand against his wound and hoped it would be enough to slow down his bleeding.  But clearly, it was not.  The growing puddles of blood on the floor far too easily showed this.

Ammen knew he was going to die.

Barely seconds ago, perhaps just a few seconds over a minute, Ammen carried the set of keys that were to unlock the chambers that held the dragons he and his fellow Voices of the Faith were to use in their secret mission.  No one tended to the stables at this hour, which was expected considering its lateness.  And since all of the Voices of the Faith were gifted in comprehending the Dragon Song, all were automatically granted permission to "borrow" a dragon while the said dragons have yet to find their Onus Bond.  This so-called perk was one of the many reasons the Faith would actively rescue any dragons seen outside the domains whenever possible, as long as the rescue did not place them in direct conflict with the Febhed. 

As Ammen stopped in front of the first gate he was to unlock, he became keenly aware of a sensation of diziness imposed upon him by some external force.  Over seventy summers old, Ammen had been familiar to every joint pain and symptom his body had suffered from for quite some time.  The diziness was a new experience, and one which came without any probable reason for occurring.  When the diziness induced enough vertigo upon Ammen to accidentally drop the keys to the ground, the old monk bent down to reach for them and that moment realized he was not alone.  At the periphery of his vision, Ammen could see the telltale signs of a hidden assailant at the fringes of his vision.  The figure moved like a shadow upon the stone, visible yet without a sound.  Ammen clenched the keys in one hand and prepared to intone upon the Dragon's Song to defend himself.

When the first blood tear fell from his left eye, Ammen realized that a darker song was already being sung.  The deadly music of Vitaesis was being played upon him in a range beyond his human capacity to hear.   Ammen had witnessed his particular song before, back during the Fang Wars of when he was still young, brave and reckless.  As part of the Faith even back then, Ammen had enlisted as a warrior to serve the Faith's military force.  In their many encounters with the Febhed, with scavengefolk and other threats, Ammen was exposed to the many possible forms of danger one can expect outside the sanctuary of the capital cities.  In one such encounter, a chantadores Febhed had used this very variant of Vitaesis to cause a commotion in the check point Ammen and his companions had put up.  As the target of this wicked tune collapsed to the ground, eyes burst open, ears and nostrils overflowing with flood, the chantadore escaped the check point thanks to the target's tremendously dramatic distraction. 

Ammen flicked his tongue in his mouth, then began to inhale sharply.  He ignored the rough
 and coarse feeling in his throat and began to sing a countersong.  Finding the echo notes that would match each note of the Vitaesis (a feat made almost completely impossible by the attacker's mastery of Vitaesis) Ammen began to deconstruct the song.

But alas, Ammen had not truly learned from his previous encounter.

Tonight, the song itself was the distraction.

As Ammen yearned to capture the melody of the Vitaesis, the assailant blended back into the shadows and made his silent approach.  The first stab was mercifully quick, with the steel penetrating Ammen's chest like a nail hammered into an over-ripe watermelon.  The second stab, however, failed to connect.  Though the second attempt came barely a second since the first almost as if it was merely a withdrawal of the initial attack before being stabbed again, Ammen reacted quickly and ignored the echo notes he was deciphering and immediately sang a Dragon Song calling the closest dragon to his aid.  The dragon whipped against the gate, nearly shattering it in one blow.  The impact, however, enough to startle the assassin, force him to drop his blade, then embrace the shadows once again.

But even with his momentary triumph, Ammen knew it was merely a matter of time.  No other members of the Faith were expected to be visiting the stables at this hour, and worse still, he doubted in his wounded condition he would be able to last even longer.

The least he could do was try to survive just a bit longer. 

With a whistle, Ammen informed the closest dragon that he needed the wind to be strong.  Complying, the dragon summoned forth a sudden surge of air, which killed out all the lit torches in the stables.   Ammen reached down and quickly felt the ground for the weapon that had been used against him.  Though his hand had landed at the precise place where the edged thing had fallen, the weapon had already crumbled into ashes to avoid retrieval.  Finding nothing but dirt upon the stable floor, Ammen pulled back up and toppled backwards as light-headedness struck him down.  The loss of blood was weakening him.  And bending forward earlier to search for the weapon did not help counter that fact.

But an assassin.  Ammen realized the ramifications of this fact.  It was not some Febhed attacker who simply would have created the greatest carnage possible.  And it was someone very skilled in Vitaesis and not some mere chantadore.   With a bloodied hand, Ammen quickly wrote upon the wall behind him.  He knew it was best to warn the others somehow and this approach seemed the only way possible.  As he wrote, he began to breathe more distinctly, exhaling three rapid breathes out, then inhaling twice, then alternating the two calmly, then stopping for a second, before repeating it.

The Kabal assassin remained stationary in the wall space directly above Ammen.  Like a shadow against the stone, the assassin was immaterial and soundless until it chose to manifest beyond the stone.  It saw the monk scribbling rapidly on the wall and knew it would have to deal with that as well.  There was no point in allowing this monk to leave any sort of message for his companions.

"So this is how the Hierophant deals with insubordination..."

The assassin heard Ammen mumble aloud.   The monk began to slide down against the wall.  It was clear he was weakening more and more from the injury he had sustained.

"Sending out... assassins in the dark... vitaesis.."

The assassin began to push outwards, and its intagiable form began to gain mass.  While its legs remained shadows against the wall, however, gravity failed to bring him down towards the ground.

"dying here... stables.. alone.."

The assassin paused.  The monk's words were not meant for his ears.  The words were not rantings towards one who took another's life.

"soundless... "

The assassin held out one hand.  He felt the breeze flowing past his skin. The breeze that kept blowing.   Channeled from the outside, blowing in.    The assassin's eyes widened.  He felt the course and now chose to read.   The Dragon's Song was among the continual gusts.

And in the song, the words of the monk.

He was warning the others!

The assassin kicked off the wall, somersaulted into position, and landed a single yard from the now prone Ammen.  Both hands spun newly drawn knives into position, and held them parallel to each other, both aimed at the monk's chest.  Ammen was not dead yet, however.  And with one final deep breath, raised his head to look straight at the assassin and prepared a final act. 

Both knives were brought down in a single swift motion.  The blades slid into Ammen's chest soundlessly, their edges skillfully evading the ribs and penetrating each lung.  Torrents of blood erupted from each wound, a fountain of soundless pain.  Ammen's dying scream was soundless - an open mouth contorted by pain.  And just before the crimson arches settled, the assassin twisted the blades, then pulled them out nearly perpendicularly, their sharp bodies ripping through meat and muscle, tearing against the sternum.  Ammen was silent now, his dead body still upon the ground.  The assassin once again simply vanished into the shadows and melted away into the absence of having never been there.

* * *

But Ammen's death was not without its purpose.

The earlier conducted Dragon Song carried his dying words through the hallways, down the corridors, and eventually into the unexpected ears of Romac and Tajuc.  Both monks heard Ammen's final words and understood that the Hierophant was aware of their plans and moved to silence them.  The mission had just gotten far more dangerous, and for Tajuc, the Hierophant's role in all this far more clear.

Quickie Fiction: WRONG

Vandross could barely contain the rage that boiled deep inside of him.  Though he always believed himself to be a man of patience, the events that unfolded here in the amber sands of Summe have begun to push him to his very limits.  Even if Vandross was not fully aware of the details regarding the presence of Alucita and Sunaj, both tremendously skilled Febhed huntsmen, he understood clearly that the two were a threat which were best not underestimated.  The green dragon which Vandross was chasing after had disappeared, but Vandross somehow had a feeling that the huntsmen were involved. 

The words of the Faith were long a source of strength for the Dragonrider.  Vandross would mentally recite the long passages speaking of the Hierophant's encounters and of the discoveries of each intonation and harmony during times of trial and adversity.  From them, he would feel an affirmation of self and duty which would empower him and imbue into him a sense of purpose and focus.

None of these passages, however, would seem to offer the sanctuary he desired tonight.  Not with his Onus Bonded dragon,Nicodemus, lying beside him lifeless and weak.  While his eyes quickly moved over his saffron dragon's immobile form, searching for visible wounds or grievous injuries, Vandross searched within his heart for the telltale presence of the bond itself.  Nicodemus and Vandross, through the Onus Bond, shared a single life force.  It was not that Vandross feared for his own life to be in danger.  Instead, it was that Vandross hoped to still sense Nicodemus' presence within him, and if too weak, share his own strength and health to the unmoving wyrm.  Just seconds ago, Nicodemus still showed signs of life.  The dragon flexed  its body weakly as Vandross reached it and called out its name.  But now, in the precious seconds that have passed, the dragon had become less and less responsive to Vandross' words.

Or actions.

"Damn you," Vandross spat between clenched teeth and raised an accussing finger towards the woman in the tricorn hat.  Alucita remained where she had stood still, one hand still held towards her face.  The line of blood which she had wiped from her cheek was still fresh.  Her eyes shifted from her bloodied hand to focus upon Vandross' accusatory glare.   "What did you do to it?  What did you do to Nicodemus?"

Alucita wanted to answer, but she herself was uncertain.  She had invoked the anguished tunes of Vitaesis.  But she knew the Harmony she had invoked was merely meant to paralyze.  To stun.  The saffron dragon's state of being was not the supposed result.

"ANSWER ME!" Vandross flicked a hand towards the empty space right of his head.  The ivory bow launched back into motion, clickity clacking into place into a bow.  Vandross kept his other hand wrapped around Nicodemus' neck.  To most observers, laughter would probably be an impulsive reaction; one does not really look threatening when one holds a bow in one hand and no second hand notches an arrow.

Sunaj turned his attentions towards the distance beyond the copse of trees where the sounds of a faint waterfall could be heard.  He knew the emerald dragon was still there, perhaps done bathing itself.   While the archer's net had snared him, Sunaj was not skilled in the ways of the Dragon Song, but understood enough to identify the artifacts of the Faith.  This was one of the strange manipulations a Dragon and his rider could manifest as attacks which was mimicked by devices known as dissonance nets.  The web of fibers transformed movement and energy into vibrations that sang an almost imperceptible harmony of a particular Dragon song.  In this case, it was a minor manifestation of Vitaesis.  Far weaker than the one used against the saffron dragon.

"I SAID-" Vandross was about to snarl again when a whirling sound grew louder and louder, rushing towards him from the very darkness of the woods.  Turning to see what it was, and perhaps dodge out of the way in time, Vandross saw the spinning blur of silver come into view in a narrowing arc straight towards his neck.  He inhaled, intent to whistle a minute wall of air to parry the weapon, but the echoblade was made to face exactly that manner of foes.  As Vandross intoned for the air to defend him, the echoblade mimicked the very notes and dismissed the command.

Steel slashed against Vandross' throat, easily leaving a narrow line of growing blood across the dragonrider's neck.  Vandross dropped the bow and cupped a hand over his throat, watching as the weapon now hurled towards the female huntsman.  Alucita deftly reached out to catch the spinning blade, her many years of using the weapon revealed as she plucked it from the air and slowed its spinning gradually by shifting her fingers rapidly across the safe holes on the weapon's surface like a flutist playing a decelerating series of notes.   Blood seemed between Vandross' closed hand, dripping down the back of his palm like a growing stream.

"Now perhaps we can be a bit more civil in this," Alucita halted the echoblade now, holding the curved weapon in front of her face.  She had the bloodied tip pointing upwards towards the bleeding scar on her cheek, as if to emphasize her point, "Now that we are even."

"You.." Vandross snarled, but the act of speaking caused a tiny spray of crimson mist to erupt from his throat.  Nicodemus still remained unmoving.

"I can tend to your wound," Alucita brought her weapon down, then tucked it against her belt.  She calmly walked towards Vandross, openly showing her hands were empty.  Not that the gesture reassured Vandross in any way.  Anyone capable of the Dragon's Song was dangerous so long as they could speak, snap their fingers, or otherwise make any sounds.  "But you must promise me to lay your weapon down.   Free my fellow huntsman and I will even help you figure out what has happened to your dragon."

"You.. attacked...."

"First?" Alucita smiled, "Well of course.  How else would we have had the fun of a safe conflict?"

Vandross stared at her with widening eyes.  Was this woman mad?  Safe conflict?  Here he stood, bleeding from a busted lip and a slashed throat.  His body was sore and bruised from the blows delivered by Sunaj.  And his dragon...

Nicodemus still did not move.

Vandross found it.  A passage that helped him focus.  The First Hierophant, it is written, was once faced with a simple dilemma.  A wicked spirit attempted to tempt him, rising from the shadows to distract him from the grand coda he sung to reshape the world.  "With all the world's ills," the spirit slyly asked, "How does one man expect to truly make a difference?"  His response was written to be, "Focus first on what lies before you, and if many, on what may not lie before you for long."

"Help.. him," Vandross closed his eyes.  The huntswoman nodded and clapped both hands together.  She then held her palms slightly away from each other while her finger tips maintained contact with each other.  She placed her lips between her palms then, and blew against her hands.  Vandross felt his injuries slowly become enveloped in a strange comforting warmth.  As he felt his very skin begin to knit back together, a sensation not unlike that of feeling ticklish tendrils running gently over the wound, Vandross snapped his fingers and then slid thumb and forefinger back against each other in the opposite way.  The resultant sound, minute as it was, commanded the fibers restraining Sunaj to unfurl.

Sunaj walked up to Alucita's side and massaged his arms as he spoke.  "And those worms just regrow them hairs daily?  It's no wonder that the Faith is very possessive of them then."

"Nicodemus," Vandross asked, although in his tension the words came out more like a command.  Alucita nodded, took a deeper breath, then blowed through her hands again.  She narrowed the gap between her palms and closed her eyes.  The saffron dragon moved, its body shifting in position as the hunstman continued the song.  Vandross moved quickly, bounding to its side and cupping an arm around its head once more.

"Can you hear me?  Nicodemus?  Can you hear me?"

The dragon gave a weak growl.

"It is not working!" Vandross cried out.

"It should have!" Alucita retorted, ending her song.  She hurriedly dropped to her knees beside Vandross and reached for the dragon.  Vandross felt a momentary urge to shove her backwards, fearing she'd make things worse, but this close to him, he saw the concern that was truly in her eyes.    She cupped her hands together again, leaning towards the dragon's forehead, then blew between her fingers.   This close, Vandross heard her intoning the Vitaesis and realized the song she was using was the same song the Hierophant would invoke during the mass healing hymns the Faith would celebrate during the festivals.  "The song should work!  The injuries were only meant to stun it!"

She turned to look at Vandross and saw him nodding in response.  "I believe you."   Deep down, Vandross believed she was telling the truth.

"Then what's wrong with it?  This was supposed to be a safe conflict, Alucita.  The treaty does stand.  What's the point of claiming this was a safe conflict for us to merely test each other's skills if you can't heal all the wounds afterwards?"  Sunaj kicked at the ground in frustration.

A rustle in the leaves drew the attention of all three towards the edge where the copse of trees stood.  Coming into view, with a glowing orb of Maya illuminating her presence, was the human guise of the emerald dragon.  Mesin looked worried and her eyes were focused on Vandross alone.

"I'm what's wrong with it.  Nicodemus is unwell because of me."