Heart's Desire
Title: Heart's Desire
Story Continuity: Battle For the Sun
Flavors: Gingerbread 17: to grandmother's house, Blueberry Yogurt 22: making repairs, Papaya 5: I told you so
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1517
Summary: Jaida has some fun with an undead adversary.
Note: Meme prompt: "This Girl is a Storm, five minutes after, Cyprian and company turn up and watch. Possibly popcorn is involved." For which I am sorry that I actually had this story more or less in the works anyway.
It was a wonderful night for slaying; the moon was cut in half, and not even the night bugs made a sound. Jaida's fingers itched for her twin falchions Mary and Rosie, but she kept them hidden. She already had the poleaxe she'd gleefully filched from the town's armory, and Jaida wanted to savor this fight, which had nothing to do with wanting to show off for Cyprian, Kristen, and Cliff in any way. That they needed to know about.
Vampires. Cold, snakelike things, their hearts full of rust-colored dust that may possibly once have been hot and wet and red. People fought over it, whether they counted as "people" or not. Jaida hadn't known anyone who had ever turned personally, but she just laughed at the ones who claimed they were rehabilitated and trying to rediscover their latent humanity. Just because you'd been human once didn't mean you hadn't always been a monster.
A monster, was what the pixie had called the spare creature. It was an odd word to use when referring to the more evil between a vampire and an entire warren of trolls. The pixie had claimed that he had "taken the sky from her soul," whatever that meant, and insisted that Jaida slay the vampire with the rest of her marks. He was guarding them, she said, and he was weak from torture by sunlight. The look in the tiny faerie's eyes said she knew more about that than she had told, but Jaida had agreed regardless. It was difficult to turn down any reward touted as a "heart's desire," and Jaida took what was given to her. It was no more than she deserved.
It was not an hour later she found the troll warren dead, all reported thirteen of them, outside of a cave near a bordering town to Amlaine. A willowy shape fed from a mossy corpse, minding neither manners nor Jaida. His pale face was framed by dark hair that bled like ink from his scalp, dyeing elegant stains over his shoulders and seeming to fade into the very night. He glanced up at Jaida with yellowy, lupine eyes, red mouth curving around his thirsty tongue. Not even the night bugs made a sound.
How strange, Jaida thought, that this was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. All thoughts of whatever her heart may have desired were bound up and thrown to the wind in that moment. What she desired most in the world had nothing to do with her heart.
"What's less than than an amateur?" Jaida said, as if talking to a little puppy. The vampire swung his blade, to his credit almost scoring a hit. Jaida completely ignored that. "That's right, you are!"
"She's really agile," Kristen said, as Jaida glided away from the truly ridiculous broadsword the vampire hammered at her. It was clear he'd never used a sword before in his life. Probably just thought they looked cool. Unfortunately, he almost certainly could keep at this much longer than she could, and if he thought to get creative, this would end very poorly.
Aw, who was she kidding, she still had this fight in the bag.
"You were turned recently, weren't you? I'll bet you were turned here against your will," Jaida said, something torn between delighted smile and derisive smirk curling her lips. Jaida could tell by the new violence of his movements that she was right, which was good, because narrowed eyes and a flash of teeth were the only other responses she got. "Tell you what, I'll give you until the count of three minutes to make peace with your final death. Start praying, and you better put in a kind word for me. You're way past your expiration date."
Jaida saw Cyprian smack his forehead into his hand despairingly through the cross of blades that followed.
"Are you okay?" Kristen said. He sighed. "I'm all right. Just...in complete dismay at her hubris."
The vampire feinted left. To his credit, he wasn't terribly obvious about it, but Jaida was able to disarm him using his own velocity and some barely-above-parlor trick-grade magic.
"Dude, it's Jaida," Cliff said, as if Cyprian was silly for expecting otherwise, and Jaida's estimation of the kid raised significantly. She smiled.
"Three minutes and counting," she teased, gesturing lazily for the vampire to retrieve his weapon.
"I will be merciful," the vampire said, standing. "You shall have three minutes to leave, if you wish."
"Oh, really. And what if I don't leave?" Jaida said, smiling. "I know I'm always wanting a different sort of violence after a slaughter. Maybe you don't want me to scram."
The vampire looked surprised. Briefly. Then there was only hunger. Jaida's eyes darkened in reply. She knew when words were superfluous.
When she woke in the morning, she woke sore and alone.
He didn't bother. As it turned out, he was vastly more skilled at fisticuffs, but it hadn't been Jaida who was unfamiliar with her weapon. He managed to strike her, once, right in the face.
"I know I've wanted to do that a few times," Cliff muttered.
"I can hear you and I know where you sleep," Jaida told him, shifting her grip and thrusting upwards and across. The vampire retreated some.
"Two," Jaida said.
"Are you gonna memorize your maths table all night, little girl, or are you gonna start fighting?" The vampire said, with a voice as rough and unrefined as gravel.
"Ready when you are," Jaida said. She could feel sweat start to bead at her temple, but she was a woman of her word, and did not strike to harm unless the obstacle wanted harming.
She should have killed that motherfucker when she had the chance.
She'd had the money from the death of her marks and was nearly back to her grandmother's house when she heard the news. Kenchington was a ghost town. Some foul demon, man or beast, had ripped through the town like storm winds and left nothing alive in its path, exsanguinating most and taking more tender pains with others. Some people were missing. They were feared to be more than that.
Jaida did not go home that day. She spent all day seeking out the most vicious beasts, her good hand tied behind her back. She let them rip and tear at her. Only when the sun was high in the sky was she able to strike back often, learning from blood and sweat. She had to fight back screams to move at the end of it, and healing herself was hell. It was less than she deserved.
When Jaida said, "One," the vampire started to panic. It was a sight, watching all that training and practice seep from him as the fear of death crept into his body in their place. Glee shivered up her spine. Nothing was said. Even the peanut gallery was sucked into their motion, though they were locked into an exchange that had become as steady as a calm but tumultuous ocean. Seven attempts to attack, all smoothly blocked. Rinse, add a variable on the fifth, repeat.
"Tell Ibis Jaida Lenore Ames sent you weeping to him," Jaida said, "and she expects someone better to meet her at his gates."
Jaida struck once. It was all she needed. Lightning flashed and burned as she cleaved his head, incinerating the body. The vampire left not even a name in his wake, only dust.
"And tell him to turn the heat up in Dis for Mashiro soon," she muttered.
"Well, that was a completely necessary and understated show you put on for us," Cyprian said, flicking vampire ash out of his hair. He couldn't fool her, she'd seen how impressed he'd been.
Jaida looked at the patch of earth where she buried her dagger. This was as close to her own funeral as she would ever get, but even abstractly there was nothing worth mourning. There were no memories worth recounting, good or bad. She'd been stupid and silly when she needed to be almighty. Mashiro Yuuki was already dead. Jaida wondered how many times she would have to cut him apart like a paper snowflake before he wished he'd never left his crypt. Then she wondered if she might like to kill him, while she was at it. That wasn't a sure thing yet. She wanted to bleed him and dance in his blood under a broken, corpse-pale moon, like the one above her. A night just like this one, in fact, would be ideal. It was a lovely night for a slaughter. The laughter that bubbled in her throat at the thought surprised her, but felt too good to stop for anything like dignity. Anyone looking would see a wild-haired girl with many furious bruises, dirty and hysterical. Even Ling wouldn't have recognized her.
Jaida spat on her makeshift grave, riding out her giggles. Metaphorical funerals seldom actually saw the last of what they buried. This once, though,Jaida had the feeling the bitch would actually stay dead. And she was glad.
"But of course," Jaida said.
Story Continuity: Battle For the Sun
Flavors: Gingerbread 17: to grandmother's house, Blueberry Yogurt 22: making repairs, Papaya 5: I told you so
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1517
Summary: Jaida has some fun with an undead adversary.
Note: Meme prompt: "This Girl is a Storm, five minutes after, Cyprian and company turn up and watch. Possibly popcorn is involved." For which I am sorry that I actually had this story more or less in the works anyway.
It was a wonderful night for slaying; the moon was cut in half, and not even the night bugs made a sound. Jaida's fingers itched for her twin falchions Mary and Rosie, but she kept them hidden. She already had the poleaxe she'd gleefully filched from the town's armory, and Jaida wanted to savor this fight, which had nothing to do with wanting to show off for Cyprian, Kristen, and Cliff in any way. That they needed to know about.
Vampires. Cold, snakelike things, their hearts full of rust-colored dust that may possibly once have been hot and wet and red. People fought over it, whether they counted as "people" or not. Jaida hadn't known anyone who had ever turned personally, but she just laughed at the ones who claimed they were rehabilitated and trying to rediscover their latent humanity. Just because you'd been human once didn't mean you hadn't always been a monster.
A monster, was what the pixie had called the spare creature. It was an odd word to use when referring to the more evil between a vampire and an entire warren of trolls. The pixie had claimed that he had "taken the sky from her soul," whatever that meant, and insisted that Jaida slay the vampire with the rest of her marks. He was guarding them, she said, and he was weak from torture by sunlight. The look in the tiny faerie's eyes said she knew more about that than she had told, but Jaida had agreed regardless. It was difficult to turn down any reward touted as a "heart's desire," and Jaida took what was given to her. It was no more than she deserved.
It was not an hour later she found the troll warren dead, all reported thirteen of them, outside of a cave near a bordering town to Amlaine. A willowy shape fed from a mossy corpse, minding neither manners nor Jaida. His pale face was framed by dark hair that bled like ink from his scalp, dyeing elegant stains over his shoulders and seeming to fade into the very night. He glanced up at Jaida with yellowy, lupine eyes, red mouth curving around his thirsty tongue. Not even the night bugs made a sound.
How strange, Jaida thought, that this was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. All thoughts of whatever her heart may have desired were bound up and thrown to the wind in that moment. What she desired most in the world had nothing to do with her heart.
"What's less than than an amateur?" Jaida said, as if talking to a little puppy. The vampire swung his blade, to his credit almost scoring a hit. Jaida completely ignored that. "That's right, you are!"
"She's really agile," Kristen said, as Jaida glided away from the truly ridiculous broadsword the vampire hammered at her. It was clear he'd never used a sword before in his life. Probably just thought they looked cool. Unfortunately, he almost certainly could keep at this much longer than she could, and if he thought to get creative, this would end very poorly.
Aw, who was she kidding, she still had this fight in the bag.
"You were turned recently, weren't you? I'll bet you were turned here against your will," Jaida said, something torn between delighted smile and derisive smirk curling her lips. Jaida could tell by the new violence of his movements that she was right, which was good, because narrowed eyes and a flash of teeth were the only other responses she got. "Tell you what, I'll give you until the count of three minutes to make peace with your final death. Start praying, and you better put in a kind word for me. You're way past your expiration date."
Jaida saw Cyprian smack his forehead into his hand despairingly through the cross of blades that followed.
"Are you okay?" Kristen said. He sighed. "I'm all right. Just...in complete dismay at her hubris."
The vampire feinted left. To his credit, he wasn't terribly obvious about it, but Jaida was able to disarm him using his own velocity and some barely-above-parlor trick-grade magic.
"Dude, it's Jaida," Cliff said, as if Cyprian was silly for expecting otherwise, and Jaida's estimation of the kid raised significantly. She smiled.
"Three minutes and counting," she teased, gesturing lazily for the vampire to retrieve his weapon.
"I will be merciful," the vampire said, standing. "You shall have three minutes to leave, if you wish."
"Oh, really. And what if I don't leave?" Jaida said, smiling. "I know I'm always wanting a different sort of violence after a slaughter. Maybe you don't want me to scram."
The vampire looked surprised. Briefly. Then there was only hunger. Jaida's eyes darkened in reply. She knew when words were superfluous.
When she woke in the morning, she woke sore and alone.
He didn't bother. As it turned out, he was vastly more skilled at fisticuffs, but it hadn't been Jaida who was unfamiliar with her weapon. He managed to strike her, once, right in the face.
"I know I've wanted to do that a few times," Cliff muttered.
"I can hear you and I know where you sleep," Jaida told him, shifting her grip and thrusting upwards and across. The vampire retreated some.
"Two," Jaida said.
"Are you gonna memorize your maths table all night, little girl, or are you gonna start fighting?" The vampire said, with a voice as rough and unrefined as gravel.
"Ready when you are," Jaida said. She could feel sweat start to bead at her temple, but she was a woman of her word, and did not strike to harm unless the obstacle wanted harming.
She should have killed that motherfucker when she had the chance.
She'd had the money from the death of her marks and was nearly back to her grandmother's house when she heard the news. Kenchington was a ghost town. Some foul demon, man or beast, had ripped through the town like storm winds and left nothing alive in its path, exsanguinating most and taking more tender pains with others. Some people were missing. They were feared to be more than that.
Jaida did not go home that day. She spent all day seeking out the most vicious beasts, her good hand tied behind her back. She let them rip and tear at her. Only when the sun was high in the sky was she able to strike back often, learning from blood and sweat. She had to fight back screams to move at the end of it, and healing herself was hell. It was less than she deserved.
When Jaida said, "One," the vampire started to panic. It was a sight, watching all that training and practice seep from him as the fear of death crept into his body in their place. Glee shivered up her spine. Nothing was said. Even the peanut gallery was sucked into their motion, though they were locked into an exchange that had become as steady as a calm but tumultuous ocean. Seven attempts to attack, all smoothly blocked. Rinse, add a variable on the fifth, repeat.
"Tell Ibis Jaida Lenore Ames sent you weeping to him," Jaida said, "and she expects someone better to meet her at his gates."
Jaida struck once. It was all she needed. Lightning flashed and burned as she cleaved his head, incinerating the body. The vampire left not even a name in his wake, only dust.
"And tell him to turn the heat up in Dis for Mashiro soon," she muttered.
"Well, that was a completely necessary and understated show you put on for us," Cyprian said, flicking vampire ash out of his hair. He couldn't fool her, she'd seen how impressed he'd been.
Jaida looked at the patch of earth where she buried her dagger. This was as close to her own funeral as she would ever get, but even abstractly there was nothing worth mourning. There were no memories worth recounting, good or bad. She'd been stupid and silly when she needed to be almighty. Mashiro Yuuki was already dead. Jaida wondered how many times she would have to cut him apart like a paper snowflake before he wished he'd never left his crypt. Then she wondered if she might like to kill him, while she was at it. That wasn't a sure thing yet. She wanted to bleed him and dance in his blood under a broken, corpse-pale moon, like the one above her. A night just like this one, in fact, would be ideal. It was a lovely night for a slaughter. The laughter that bubbled in her throat at the thought surprised her, but felt too good to stop for anything like dignity. Anyone looking would see a wild-haired girl with many furious bruises, dirty and hysterical. Even Ling wouldn't have recognized her.
Jaida spat on her makeshift grave, riding out her giggles. Metaphorical funerals seldom actually saw the last of what they buried. This once, though,Jaida had the feeling the bitch would actually stay dead. And she was glad.
"But of course," Jaida said.