Tiger

A Roll of The Die

Clarinet could drive. It was something she did. But her car remained in it's location under the car park. Car keys in hand, she wondered down the sidewalk, trying to keep her eye on a bird. The bird was large, she could see that much. She guessed the wingspan to be somewhere between one and twenty feet. Twenty seemed quite high to her, and one seemed rather low, but she supposed it could not hurt to assume a wide variety of options. If she had to confirm a definite size, she'd probably say about five feet and four inches. But that was how tall she was, so maybe she was bias to that size.

What was odd about the bird, was the wings. It looked, to her, like every other feather had been plucked from the tip. Now, she was quite certain this could not be true, but it still had her curious. It had caught her eye, soaring across the street just as she locked her door. Forgetting that she had intended to take her car, she'd followed it, wondering what it could be. It occurred to her, walked directly into a red car parked outside the cafe, that she was lucky the bird had been going in the same direction as she. She debated, momentarily, if she should go into the cafe, or if she should chase the bird some more. The bird answered that question for her. It landed beside the street, picking at the remains of some poor animal that would never find out why the chicken crossed the road.

"A turkey vulture? I've been chasing a stupid turkey vulture? Ugh." Disgusted with herself, Clarinet shook her head and stepped around the car. She took a moment or two to admire the vehicle that had been introduced, painfully, to her left hip, then entered the store. She pulled out her phone and, as she stood in line, she checked the menu online.

"Miss? What can I get you?" the girl at the counter drew her attention.

Net looked up and smiled. "Hello! Good morning. How are you?" She asked brightly. "I'll have a chocolate latte with two pumps of caramel, please." She requested brightly. "Oh! And something to eat. Surprise me." She requested, starting to giggle. "Thanks!" She reached into her purse and pulled out a ten and a five. Setting them on the counter, she smiled. "You guys work too hard. Keep the change."

With that, she stepped out of line and looked around, searching for a place to sit.

Gift in the Ashes [Tiger/LalaKitty]

Aranhil picked his wife up and threw her over his shoulder. Just like the sack of flour he told her she'd be. One hand on her back, and one across her legs, he turned and bowed to his mother and sister. "Excuse me, please, ladies. I'm afraid I require the attention of my wife." He turned, then, and carried her out of the room.

His mother just looked shocked as she watched her son leaving with the young elven princess. Cendres was squealing and laughing like a fool. "Don't forget what you have to do to him, Sylvia!" She shouted after her sister in law. "You still have the handcuffs!" She giggled eagerly, excited to find out if they managed to make her nieces and nephews or not.

Aranhil ignored them both. He carried his wife right back to her room, and set her down on her feet. "Hoppy, you'd better stay right in here." He warned the rabbit. Looking at his wife, he just frowned. "Just what has gotten into you, Sylvia? You are suppose to be setting an example! My father agreed to this marriage, because he saw how well behaved you elven women were, and he wanted you to come and help teach our woman to be more docile!" He hissed at her. He hadn't wanted word of this to get around. "And yet, here you are, acting worse than most of them! You are suppose to be setting a GOOD example for my sister!"

He groaned and sank down onto the bed, his head in his hands. "Cendres is far too wild, and woman everywhere are taking after her. We have tried everything, but it's not working. Cendres is going to have to be married within twenty years. Father wants her wed as soon as she is of legal age."

Looking up at his wife, he allowed her to see his fear and uncertainty. "Father is fond of the idea of sending her to the king farthest away from us. We have fifteen men who have made offers. Fifteen! The one farthest from us....I'd never see her again! I love her, Sylvia, she's my baby sister. I want her to be safe. But last time he came to visit, that....that man! He said he would be happy to train her. Like a dog!" He was clearly furious about this. Standing up from the bed, he started pacing. "I know what he intends to do to her. She'd hate it there. He wouldn't just make her into a lady, he'd break her spirit. She'd never survive as his wife."

He turned to Sylvia, clearly angry with her. "When you arrived, you acted perfectly. You were sweet, you answered politely, you treated me like your king. I AM your king, damn it! Now you're acting like my sister! I need you to teach her to be a wife, a lady, not for her to teach you how to cause trouble!"

Gift in the Ashes [Tiger/LalaKitty]

"SYLVIA!"

Aranhil jerked the door back open, absolutely fuming. Unfortunately, she'd caught him with his pants down. Literally. He'd dropped his drawers as soon as he thought her back was turned. His initial reaction had been to turn around to catch her. This resulted in him hilariously spinning his arms about like a windmill while he crashed to the floor. The Jack and the beanstalk's giant style. Except with a bit less 'fe fi fo fum'ing. The prince scrambled to his feet, red faced with embarrassment. He hadn't done that since he was four, and his mother caught him peeing behind the barracks.

Bursting out into the hall (with his pants properly laced around his waste) he groaned. Sylvia was no where to be seen. He stopped and closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath. He had to be relaxed. He was a prince, he couldn't let his anger get ahold of him. He was not River, and she was not Emera. He couldn't just screw her and pretend their fights were over with. Calmly, he walked down the hall, going to find his wife.

He located her locked between Cendres, and his mother. Cendres had eaten too much sugar. He could tell by the way she was bouncing, squeaking, and making overly exaggerated movements. His mother was....his mother. Really, he was saving his wife. Truly, he had to do her a kindness. He walked over, interrupting their conversation.

"Pardon me, mother. Excuse me, Cendres. Sylvia." he smiled at her, and kissed her forehead. "First of all, it is NOT weird to be attracted to feet." He informed her with a smile. "Second, your body may be beautiful and natural. But there is nothing beautiful about mine. I'm not a female." He laughed softly, sounding to all the world like he'd just told the best joke in the world. Cendres looked very worried about that laugh. "Third, I'm going to carry you out of this room like a sack of flour if you don't walk with me right this second because I refuse to yell at you in front of people."

Gift in the Ashes [Tiger/LalaKitty]

Aranhil frowned. He didn't care for how she had suddenly turned flippant. "Now wait just a minute!" He followed her out into the hall and grabbed onto his wife's wrist. Mindful of how delicate she was, particularly by dragon standards, he held loosely. "I am your husband and king. You can't just walk out like that!" He protested. Spotting Hoppy deciding to go explore the castle, he groaned. "Not you too!"

The dragon released his wife's wrist and snatched up the rabbit. "I told you, the servants find you, you're going to be stew. Wife, come." He ordered. He turned and walked back into their bedroom, Hoppy in his arms. "I don't understand what has gotten into you. You were so doting when we first got married, you never left the room without asking permission. Or at least making up for it with a kiss. I'm just not alright with this change in attitude."

He shook his head and set the rabbit down on the bed. "I know that you are angry I dismissed your chamber maid, but I told you what the reasons for that were. She's teaching you things that you have no need to be concerned about, and she's not acting as a refined lady should. She's teaching you bad manners, and about cornergirls and ankle dancers." He sighed, "And I wish you didn't need to know what ether of those were!"

Cornergirls was the politer term for a prostitute. The girls would stand on the corner and catch business there. Prostitution was illegal, so many times the girls stood on the corners outside where the dancers worked, and sold rooms in the upstairs. Each place had their own symbol for if they were selling prostitutes or not that night. Interested men would approach, and the girl would lead him to wherever she sold herself, or would direct them to a coworker. Ankle dancers referenced the wrappings that the girls wore on their ankles, which made their dancing legal. Often, they were just the cover for the prostitution ring.

"Sit on the bed, wife. We have to talk." Aranhil informed Sophia, giving her a dismissive glance. "And advert your eyes. I have to change for training." He had been meeting with an important lord earlier. Now that the talks were done, though, he had to change from his silks and velvets and into the clothes he wore to practice fighting. "I assure you, I will have a new maid for you by the end of this week."

A Roll of The Die

Net rolled out of bed. Literally. She hit the floor with a solid thud that should have startled her awake. The only reason it didn't, was that she was already awake. She'd awoken from the dream, freaked out and petrified. Laying face first in her pillow, everything had been dark, and she couldn't breath. She'd rolled to get out of her pillows, and ended up out of the bed. "Owww...." The young woman rubbed her hip right hip. She'd landed on it first.

"Stupid dream." Clarinet climbed to her feet, disentangling from her blankets. A small, black cat watched her from the dead center of her bed. "No wonder I fell off. Stupid cat, taking up all the room!" She scooped the tiny creature up into her arms for a snuggle. "You're suppose to chase away nasty things! Like bugs, and mice, and bad dreams! I named you Dreamcatcher for a reason!" The reason had, actually, been for the marking on her chest. It was round and webby. With the cat's paws dangling below, Net had been reminded of the charms. She'd thought the name quite sweet.

"Come on, Dream," She shivered for a second, remembering the young girl. "Where did that even come from?" Head shaking, Net trotted down the hall and into her bathroom. There was no way she was going to feel clean, not after that dream, until she had scrubbed herself pink from head to toe. "How could that man even sit there!" She demanded of her companion. "He just let a girl die, and he just sat there!" Catching the early signs of her personal panic, she shut her eyes. "No...stop." A long sight escaped her. "Happy, happy, happy. It was a stupid dream, no one really died. Think happy." She was suppose to be in class in an hour. But class was never happy. "I think I'll go shopping today." She informed her feline as she undressed. "I could use a new pair of boots. And a cute dress to match! Would you like a new toy mouse? Maybe I'll take you to the pet store." She flicked on the shower, as hot as she could stand.

Dreamcatcher perched on the edge of the bathtub, watching as water rolled down the curtain. "Merrrr?" She swatted at a few stray drops, then shook her paw indignantly. This water was wet. Tail in the air, she leaped down off the edge of the tub, and trotted back down the hall. Her human rejoined her a half hour later, hair dripping, and wrapped in a towel. Dreamcatcher promptly snubbed her, and went to sit by her empty food dish.

Clarinet dressed quickly. She adored dresses, but decided on a skirt today. Skirts were almost as good as dresses. It was a dark blue skirt, and she paired it with a cream colored top, and brown boots. Her eyes flicked over to her phone, charging on the bedside table. She picked it up, checked for messages, and dropped it again. That done, she grabbed her purse from yesterday. As she dumped some keys, lipstick, hairbands, a toy mouse, some gum, and whatever else was in her red purse, into a brown one, she surveyed her bedroom. She fed her cat in her room, and could see that there was still a ring of food around the inside edge. She supposed she should toss a little more on top, though. The water dish was still filled.

"Ooooh! Breakfast!" The thought of feeding her cat reminded Net she had to feed herself. She decided she was going to pop down to her favorite cafe for a nice little breakfast pastry, a cup of coffee with too much cream and sugar, and maybe a chance to flirt with a cute customer or two. None of the boys working the counter were old enough for her. There were only two, and they both seemed to be barely in high school. The girls were nice to chat with, though. She dumped a random amount of food into her cat's dish, and decided it would be good for the day. Likely, it was good enough for three days. "Good girl, Dreamcatcher. I'm gunna garb some breakfast, then some boots, and two new dresses, and a purse, and a boyfriend, and then I'll come take you to the pet store!"

Net scratched the eating cat's ears, then exited her bedroom. Net entered her bedroom. Clarinet scooped up her purse, draped it over her shoulder, and exited the bedroom.

Dreamcatcher's ears flicked towards the sound of the front door locking. It unlocked. Net sprinted back into the bedroom to grab her phone. A few minutes later and the front door locked again. Dreamcatcher snubbed her food and went to drink the water puddled on the bottom of the tub.

A Roll of The Die (Int. Check)

Alright, my sample post is up. Thanks for waiting for that.

A Roll of The Die (Int. Check)

Name: Clarinet Melody Mozart
Nicknames/Aliases: Net
Gender: Female
Age: 20

Appearance: image

Personality: Lover of all things lacy and lovely, Clarinet is a lot of a girly girl. She adores anything cute, and anything pretty. She's a dreamer, and a romantic, and a little bit spoiled. Perhaps because of her name, Clarinet adores music and dance. She'll pause in the street to listen to people busking, and will sing or dance with children at the drop of a hat. A little flighty, and easily distracted, Clarinet is often likened to a small, beautiful, slightly annoying, but pleasant to listen to bird.

Skills: Clarinet is skilled at blowing sour notes on her namesake, and pulling sweet ones from strings. While blowing is not in her talents, her long slender fingers are perfect for almost any stringed instrument, bowed or plucked, and she is very quick to pick up on most of them. Her favorite is the harp, and the most practical is the guitar.
Socially, Clarinet excels. She can make a new friend anywhere she goes, and pull genuine smiles from even the Grinch, before his heart grew.
Net has a talent for dealing with masses of small children without feeling an urge to strangle them.
Net can knit.

History: Clarinet is the only daughter of a wealthy business man and a hippy mother. Both in stature and in practice. Her father was away on business when her mother was rushed into the hospital to go into labor three weeks early. Net arrived perfectly safe, and with a very 'unique' name filled with 'song energy' and 'peace bringing skills'. Clarinet had no idea what that meant, but she loved to listen to how her mother had named her, so she didn't mind the pretty terms. Her father was slightly less pleased, but enjoyed her mother's hippy ways, and after a night or two of wrestling around, submitted to the mother's decision.

Clarinet grew up happy. She dreamed of being a ballerina, but hated the shoes with the blocks in the toes, so she never went to class. She wasn't much fond of the teacher, either, who pronounced her name 'Clar-in-it' because she refused to accept that a child could be named for an instrument. Other than her one teacher, however, Clarinet has always loved her name.

Growing up was very easy for Net, and she lived a life of privilege. Her parents shielded her from hurt and destruction, and built her a little artificial shelter to hide in whenever the world turned bad. Net usually wears rose tinted glasses, and only takes them off to put on violet tinted glasses for a change of style. Fashionable and friendly, she's everyone's slightly ditzy girl next door.

Not feeling she had much need to go on to college, Clarinet was none too picky about her choice in schools, and simply decided to take business classes at the local community college. She misses most of them.

Other: Net has a mild allergy to strawberries, which she ignores in the manner of a cat. Net also goes into hysterics if people break laws, fearing the absolute worst punishment for every simple crime. In middle school she had to be sent home from school, sobbing uncontrollably because her friend asked to copy her homework at lunch. She has gotten somewhat better at controlling herself in these situations, but it still very quick to upset about such things.

sample post

Net wasn't sure why she'd taken note of that door today. She knew she must have passed it a hundred thousand times before. It was on her way to school, when she had walked there. She passed it when she'd been taking that one course at the local community college. This was her path to get to her favorite hang out, her job, and even her best friend's home. It felt like every day she had gone down these same streets, and every night, she'd traced the path back. But today was the first she'd really seen that door. She wasn't sure why she'd paused to look at it, or really even what was special about it. It was old, and ugly, and it looked like the kind of door you'd mug someone against.

She'd never mugged anyone before, of course, but if she had been going to, she'd probably choose to do so against a door like that. It was rather discreet, probably a fire escape or side exit that no one used any more. Probably connected to one of the abandoned stores, or empty warehouses. It was in a very out of the way area, nestled back in one of the little allies she ducked down to save time. Yes, Net had decided, it was a good place for a mugging.

It was these thoughts, she had also decided, that had put her into her current situation. Bad karma, or something of the like. Net had never thought about hurting someone before, well, not without reason, anyway. She'd always tried to be, while not good, at least not a problematic person. She was not one to try to cause trouble. Though, she seemed to find it well enough without putting forth any effort. For example, today, she was running down the streets of her home town, hoping to make it to that door before the person behind her found her. The door was nothing that said it held safety behind it, but her instincts told her to go there, and as of yet, they had never failed Net.

"Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. Pay more attention next time!"

Not usually in the habit of talking to herself, Net found that occasionally reminding herself that she was not above the others was necessary. Net had been raised on what could only be described as the 'wrong side of the tracks'. She lived in a small town that had been build around a railroad station. On the nicer half lived those with pretty houses, neat lawns, and the small little yappy dogs that fit in purses. Net was still not convinced that they were real, not just wind up toys that continuously barked and wiggled. It was stereotypical, uptown girl, white bread world.

Net lived with the backstreet guys. Her mama never had to tell her why, she found out all on her own. And what she hadn't found out, her three dearest friends had told her. In her neighborhood, there were three homeless men that camped out on the corner, tucked away from the wind and rain. When she had been a child, Net had stopped every day to give them the sandwich her mother had made her. In middle school, she'd make herself two. One for her, one for them. By high school, she was leaving twenty minutes early so she could bring them coffee and to sit and chat with them. Now a working woman, she still would take the time to see them, when she could. Normally, she could ask them anything. And they'd protect her from anyone. She use to run and hide behind them when the neighborhood bully came around.

Today she couldn't shelter in their arms. It was that door, or nothing.

Thankfully, it was within sight. Net could feel the hard slap of the ground through the thin soles of her sneakers each time her feet came down. Her lungs felt icy with each short breath. She wasn't much for running, and in the crisp autumn air, the chill felt like little knives. Despite the cold in her lungs, a trickle of sweat ran down her forehead. Her hair, naturally curly and a shade too light for black, but too dark for brown, had started to fall from it's neat bun. In her front coat pocket, her keys bounced painfully on her thigh, the thin material of her work khakis not protecting her from the bruise that was sure to develop. Despite the pains, she ran on, reaching out to grasp the door.

It didn't occur to her that it might be locked. Not until after she'd thrown it open. She could hear the footsteps of her followers just around the corner. "Please don't let them notice." She pulled the door shut behind her.

Instantly, things seemed different. It wasn't as cold here. Grateful for the shelter from the wind, and for the warm sunlight on her back, she took a moment to assess herself. Disheveled, sweaty, out of breath. Yup, seemed about right. Her blue work shirt shirt had come untucked from her pants, and, as she ran her fingers along her shoulders, she noticed it had a small hole in the shoulder. Considering that was what had hit the ground first, she wasn't too surprised. Her hands were scraped up, too, along with the elbow and knee that corresponded with her banged up shoulder. Her purse was still in hand, though. As she turned around, she started to rifle through it.

"Lipgloss, yes, money...why didn't I put my keys in here? Idiot." Net fished the keys from her pocket, dropping them back into her purse. "ID, phone, cheap little thing it is, I should have thrown THAT at them, pen....and....giant talking goat. Right." Finally looking up, a frown crossed the girl's plump lips. "Okay, so, I know you guys must be smoking something strong, because you haven't even offered me any, and I'm already seeing things." Net started to edge her way along the wall, away from the demons. "Nice to meet you and all, but my really strong, six foot four boyfriend is waiting for me at the end of the ally. Did I mention he lifts weights? Yeah...so...I'll see you...never, actually." Not quite trusting them enough to turn her back on them, she started to inch her way down the street. It was not until she reached the corner that she realized the door she had gone through had lead from an ally, to an ally. With wide eyes, she turned, staring out at the world before her.

"What the..."

Gift in the Ashes [Tiger/LalaKitty]

Aranhil looked confused. "I would hope that it would die." He answered bluntly. "Excitement means unpredictability, and I would rather know what to expect. I don't like not knowing what will happen next." He told her honestly. He didn't understand why she seemed to think it was bad for excitement to die. "I would much rather be able to plan when we have children, and what we intend to do for the day. It makes it much easier to deal with situations, and to handle unexpected intrusions."

"Speaking of which, my brother mentioned that Emera has gotten it into her mind to go adventuring. I have forbidden them from leaving the country, but I'm worried my letter will arrive too late. He did not mention which land they intended to travel to, just that she was determined to go make allies. Where would you think Emera would be most likely to go? I figured she would attempt to meet with the humans. The elves have a strained relation with the humans, and we dragons have a bitter one. But they are the least dangerous of our enemies. Although, it might be more likely she would go to the faeries. I know that you elves have a long standing peace with them. Personally, I think they make a nice snack."

Aranhil is disappointed that his wife could not join him. He's written a letter to River asking him to throw Sylvia and the segway off the cliff.

Gift in the Ashes [Tiger/LalaKitty]

Aranhil sighed as he reread his brother's letter. He was getting tired of people nagging him to just get laid already. Why was it such a problem that he wanted to wait? He just didn't understand it. Crumpling up the offending piece of paper, he threw it into the fire. "Stupid thing." He mumbled to himself. "Why can't they just mind their own business?" He stood up from his desk and turned, casting a glance at his bed. Just because his wife wasn't in it didn't mean that they had any right to shove their noses in.

He made his way down the hall, casting a glance around for his wife. By the time he reached her room, he had determined that she was not in the hall, and no one else was going to bother him. Knocking firmly he called, "Sylvia, I'm stepping in." He usually just announced himself, and the entered during the day. He saw no reason why he could not enter if he pleased. She was his wife, so they should have no secrets. And he didn't think she'd have a reason to be undressing in the middle of the day.

He stepped into the room and glanced over it to locate her. "I'm going to send my brother a letter and tell him to stay out of our bed, or I'll make sure he can't have fun in his own." He muttered angrily. "And that if he still insists on annoying me, I'm going to have your maid brought back here, and he has to stay with the elves for the next century!"

I almost forgot. Aranhil then merrily road his segway off a cliff.

Gift in the Ashes [Tiger/LalaKitty]

Emera reached up, shyly wrapping her hand around his ring. It wasn't an official engagement, but it did make her feel a lot better. "But you've slept with woman before." She'd heard the one he'd had in his room when they first met. She had good lungs. "What if they had given you a son? Is it not the same? Bastards don't count, do they." She knew how that went. As a bastard, she couldn't inherit anything from her parents. When they died, their things would go to legitimate children, if they had any. If not, it would return to the government. Whatever she could make for herself, she could have. But that was it. Bastards were not friends of the elven society.

"I could give you a daughter. Would a daughter be worth anything to you?" She inquired curiously. She didn't think a daughter could rise to succession, but she actually was not completely sure about that. She doubted, though, that if she had a daughter, her beloved would be exceptionally excited. She knew they valued sons more, and she was sure for his first child, he would want a son.

"And what about bastard children? If we were to have a child out of wedlock, would that little one challenge your brother's children for the throne? Would a bastard girl stand as much of a chance as a son born within wedlock?" She shook her head, not understanding at all. "I would never want to be a queen. I don't think I'd ever want to be a princess, ether. So many rules, and details. I don't know how Sylvia has handled it."

Sinking back into River's chest, the young elf sighed. "River, why won't you try for peace? Don't you want your children to be safe?" She looked up at him, starting to blush. "They might be my children, too. I don't want to have children that are just going to be sent off to die in a war." She hated the thought of losing her children. "For that matter, I don't want them participating in your stupid rite of passage, ether. I've read about that one. Children DIE during it!" Tender hearted little Emera couldn't stand the thought of loosing a child.

She stood up and crossed over to her wardrobe. Selecting a dress of sea green, she laid it upon the bed. "Shoo, River. I have to change. It's not proper for you to be in here while I dress. We can go for a walk and start preparing for our trip once I have dressed."