Nano the 3rd
Today I got to drink matcha with Johanna at the teahouse =D. It was really nice, though we both failed at the wisking. We talked about our mutual friends and how everything seemed to fall apart lately, with them being completely unmotivated to meet up for some fun. On a whim we decided that we would have to stick together then and made Monday afternoon at the teahouse a fixture in our schedule and decided to do some baking together soon.
I am looking forward to it.
On the nano front...
Not as much as I would have liked, but since I had to go to university and spent time chatting with Johanna that was to be expected. =D Not that I mind, picking teahouse over nanoing any day, and I still have Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday to work ahead again.
Title: Endgame (3/30+)
Fandom: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Pairing: Luther/Fayt, mentions of Albel/Fayt
Rating: NC 17 overall
Warnings: A/U, blood, gore, slash, mindfuckery, incest, typos as far as the eye can see, no proof reading, cliches ... it's NANOWRIMO writing, that should be a warning of its own.
Summary: A series of seemingly unconnected murders draws Detective Leingod into a morbid game of hide and seek. As he hunts a phantom across the worlds, real or not, through high tech metropolis and abandoned asylum, he finds himself chasing more than just a murderer, but his own forgotten past. And what secret lies with the elusive Owner of Sphere, Luther Lansfield? Is he a powerful ally, ... or a deadly foe after all?
He made a face. Right. Most of them would have probably forgotten about him by next week, would go on with their lives as normal, while the loved ones were left behind to pick up the pieces alone. Really, sometimes he wondered why people even bothered playing at regret, when they could not care less. When had the world become so callous that one dead boy was of no importance anymore, just one for the statistics that climbed each year.
"What's with the face, Fayt? Something botherin' you?"
He sighed softly as he opened his eyes to look into the face hovering about his. Strong jaw, natural tan, piercing grey eyes and blond haired Cliff Fittir had the face of someone you would rather expect to see on the movie billboards as the dashing, dare-devil hero of the next action flick, complete with the muscled body to match, not pushing files in a precinct. Cliff had already been part of the Force for some years when Fayt had joined them as a newbie and had, for some reason or other, taken him under his wing, as he had done with Maria before him. Fayt had solved his first case, a hit and run, under the guidiance of the older blond and had come to be thankful for his help ever since then. That they would still be working together, even after Fayt had gotten his promotion to Detective had been a pleasent surprise. Nearly everyone on the Force liked Fittir, with his easy going ways and good natured humor it was hard to dislike him. For most of the precinct it had been a surprise when not Cliff but Maria was promoted to Chief, who, while a prodigy and reliable, was a lot younger than Cliff who had thaught her the ropes. A surprise for sure, but only for those that did not know Cliff personaly or had worked with him. For he was just a little bit too easy going, taking risks no one in their right frame of mind would consider, and also a bit loose when it came to his fists. Not a few criminals had gotten a taste of what Fayt jokingly called Fist of Fury to the face when they were being extra difficult. That and the man himself had not been disappointed at all himself. He could still remember, when they had gone to celebrate Maria's new job, he had overheard them talking. The freshly baked Chief Traydor had obviously been unsure herself, if she was infriging on something that Cliff might have wanted for himself, should have been his by age and rank. But the blond had simply laughed, slapping her shoulder in good nature, and nearly felling the slight woman, and told her not to worry. He never ever wanted to be Chief. Too much work, too much frustration with incompetent newbies and too much paper work. He prefered the backstreets and chasing the bad guys to that any day. And no payment raise could change that.
"Yo. Earth to Fayt, ya in there?"
"Yes, yes. I am just thinking." He swatted at the hand that was waving wildly in front of his face.
"Good, for a moment there you seemed completely zoned out." The man was smiling cheerfully at him, even faced with his irritation and plopped himself down onto Fayt's desk. Silently Fayt mourned the dead of his orderly, smooth papers. Chief Traydor would have to live with the fact that his latest records would be marred with Fittir butt prints.
"So, what got you so worried? You are looking as if somebody killed your pet turtle."
"I don't have a pet turtle, Cliff."
The blond just waved him off. "You know what I mean. Come on, tell your worries to good ol' uncle Cliff."
It was hard not too smile, watching his friend's antics, and Fayt felt as small grin tug at his lips, even through all the tiredness and frustrations of the day.
"It's just the case I am working on. God, I am not really sure if it will even become one or if I am just chasing phantoms."
"Huh, that doesn' t sound fun. Have I heard of it yet?"
"Probably not." Fayt slumped farther in his seat, elbows supporting on his knees as he rested his chin on his folded hands. "It just came in last night. Dion Landers, died under strange circumstances."
"Strange circumstances? What do you mean?" The desk groaned under the considerable weight of the man as he shifted, leaning back to support his upper body with his hands and crossing his legs at the ankles. Fayt winced at the sound, the feeble office furniture was not meant to support any significant weight, certainly no such masses as the tall muscled frame of Fittir. The man's own regularly breaking chair and desk were testament to that. Still, for now Fayt decided to hold his tongue in that regard and leave it uncommented. It wouldn't be his paycheck that got cut for a replacement anyway. Instead he focused his thoughts once mre on the case, trying to order them and mulling over how he would best explain things to Cliff. He hoped that talking to the blond might help him to make heads or tails of what had happened, or, if that failed, Cliff's new perspective might yield something new or at least point him in a correct direction. While he normally prefered working alone Fayt knew the worth and importance of other people's opinions, especially those of his close friends. They had helped him more than once when he had been stuck and got the feeling that he would never be able to close the case sucessfully. A second point of view might just be what it took to get things moving again.
"Landers," he finally began. "Died last night while playing in the Eternal Sphere. By drowning." Really, it sounded kind of ridiculous. "He is showing every indication of dying that way. Laryngospasm, foam in the lungs and Albel is expecting that the blood screening will show an increaded amount of carbon dioxid. What's strange is that there was no body of water big enough to drown him in close by. There were no signs of forceful entry or any signs of violence. No indication of a struggle, aside from what was likely Landers flailing around as he fought for breath." He rubbed a hand over his eyes, gaze turned to the floor and brow drawn in a frown. "I considered the possibility of strangulation, a freak case maybe, but Albel assures me that there is no indication for it. Even if he were strangled with a silk shawl, while it would have left no impression on the skin the damage to his airways would be different and there would have been bruises in the flesh. That, and he is missing the typical burst blood vessels in the eyes."
"Sounds tough." The cheer had left Cliff's voice, making way for the seriousness which was kept normally hidden behind his go lucky attitude. "Ya know, I am the last one you will find kissing Nox's ass, but you got to admit he knows his shit. If he says the guy died by drowning than he probably did. So the only thing left for us is to figure out how. You got a tox yet?"
"Still waiting for it. It is no high priority case, so it will probably take a while."
"Jesus, you can probably go home then. No way they will finish it today."
What Cliff said was probably true. He hardly could expect the complete toxiological report today, Fayt was probably lucky if they got back to him this week. The laboratories were bogged down with work, and even if they were not, a thourough screening took its time. It was certainly not like they showed on TV, were they made it out to be a matter of minutes. "I am going to wait here for the results." If he were to say that to one of their forensic scientists they would probably laugh in his face and tell him to get comfortable, since he would be there for a very long time.
"Were there any other people present?"
"From what I know just his girlfriend. She was supposedly sleeping when it happened.."
"Did you have a chance to talk to her yet?"
"No." Frustrated Fayt blew a few of his bangs out of his eyes, once more sitting up straight. It was hard to sit still. While he was tired, his body and mind were wired on coffein and slowly but surely he was getting the jitters. "She is in the hospital. I talked to her doctor. Aside from suffering from a shock from finding her dead boyfriend, she was also badly sick before hand and her condition got worse. She is considered critical at the moment."
"That sucks. I hope she will make it." Cliff's voice was sympathic. "Some people really have all the bad luck."
"Tell me about it." He crossed his legs, sock clad foot swinging up and down as he thought. "Looks like she is alone too. No one has been able to reach any kind of family. And at least Landers did not have many friends."
"What do you mean?"
"I tried talking to some of his colleagues at the university. But no one really knew him, or could tell me what he had been doing when not studying." The younger man made a sound of agitation, setting his feet back down onto the ground with a soft thump. "The only one who might have known something, his teacher, was not reachable. Supposedly out on reasearch or something."
"You got their name?"
"Yes. Elena Frahm."
"Elena Frahm?" Cliff scratched the back of his head, before crossing his arm over his chest, muscles buldging under the dark unifrom shirt. "The name sounds familiar somehow. I am sure I have heard it before. Frahm ... hm..."
"Elena Frahm, one of the world's ruling scientists. She is famous for her research into channeled force."
Fayt nearly toppled out of his chair at the sudden interruption. He had not heard the door opening or closing, nor any steps drawing near.
"Yo, Mirage. You nearly gave poor Fayt a heart attack there. When did you get back?"
"Just now." Fayt looked up at the woman as she came to stop next to them. She was smiling, head tilted to the side and long blonde braid falling nearly reaching to her waist. Her hand was warm, the grip sure as she rested it on his shoulder. "And if Fayt were to die of a heart attack it would not be because of me, but because of all the coffee." She nodded at the cup which still sat on top of Fayt's table, dangerously close to the edge of the desk. "How many cups have you had yet?"
The young man cringed under her gaze. Certainly, her smile was tender and worried, pleasent and sweet to anyone who did not bother to look deeper, for the blue of her eyes was chilled and their look dangerous, promising pain if she did not like the answer.
"I ... I am not quite sure?" Wrong answer, he had to bite back a wince as her grip on his shoulder thightened a little bit, her smile becoming that much sharper as her eyes narrowed. Frantic his gaze svivled to Cliff, who stood behind Mirage, silently begging for help. Cliff just shook his head, so frantic that for a moment Fayt actually feared that it would pop right off, indicating that he was on his own against the tender Terror that was Mirage Coast on a mothering trip.
I am looking forward to it.
On the nano front...
Not as much as I would have liked, but since I had to go to university and spent time chatting with Johanna that was to be expected. =D Not that I mind, picking teahouse over nanoing any day, and I still have Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday to work ahead again.
Title: Endgame (3/30+)
Fandom: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Pairing: Luther/Fayt, mentions of Albel/Fayt
Rating: NC 17 overall
Warnings: A/U, blood, gore, slash, mindfuckery, incest, typos as far as the eye can see, no proof reading, cliches ... it's NANOWRIMO writing, that should be a warning of its own.
Summary: A series of seemingly unconnected murders draws Detective Leingod into a morbid game of hide and seek. As he hunts a phantom across the worlds, real or not, through high tech metropolis and abandoned asylum, he finds himself chasing more than just a murderer, but his own forgotten past. And what secret lies with the elusive Owner of Sphere, Luther Lansfield? Is he a powerful ally, ... or a deadly foe after all?
He made a face. Right. Most of them would have probably forgotten about him by next week, would go on with their lives as normal, while the loved ones were left behind to pick up the pieces alone. Really, sometimes he wondered why people even bothered playing at regret, when they could not care less. When had the world become so callous that one dead boy was of no importance anymore, just one for the statistics that climbed each year.
"What's with the face, Fayt? Something botherin' you?"
He sighed softly as he opened his eyes to look into the face hovering about his. Strong jaw, natural tan, piercing grey eyes and blond haired Cliff Fittir had the face of someone you would rather expect to see on the movie billboards as the dashing, dare-devil hero of the next action flick, complete with the muscled body to match, not pushing files in a precinct. Cliff had already been part of the Force for some years when Fayt had joined them as a newbie and had, for some reason or other, taken him under his wing, as he had done with Maria before him. Fayt had solved his first case, a hit and run, under the guidiance of the older blond and had come to be thankful for his help ever since then. That they would still be working together, even after Fayt had gotten his promotion to Detective had been a pleasent surprise. Nearly everyone on the Force liked Fittir, with his easy going ways and good natured humor it was hard to dislike him. For most of the precinct it had been a surprise when not Cliff but Maria was promoted to Chief, who, while a prodigy and reliable, was a lot younger than Cliff who had thaught her the ropes. A surprise for sure, but only for those that did not know Cliff personaly or had worked with him. For he was just a little bit too easy going, taking risks no one in their right frame of mind would consider, and also a bit loose when it came to his fists. Not a few criminals had gotten a taste of what Fayt jokingly called Fist of Fury to the face when they were being extra difficult. That and the man himself had not been disappointed at all himself. He could still remember, when they had gone to celebrate Maria's new job, he had overheard them talking. The freshly baked Chief Traydor had obviously been unsure herself, if she was infriging on something that Cliff might have wanted for himself, should have been his by age and rank. But the blond had simply laughed, slapping her shoulder in good nature, and nearly felling the slight woman, and told her not to worry. He never ever wanted to be Chief. Too much work, too much frustration with incompetent newbies and too much paper work. He prefered the backstreets and chasing the bad guys to that any day. And no payment raise could change that.
"Yo. Earth to Fayt, ya in there?"
"Yes, yes. I am just thinking." He swatted at the hand that was waving wildly in front of his face.
"Good, for a moment there you seemed completely zoned out." The man was smiling cheerfully at him, even faced with his irritation and plopped himself down onto Fayt's desk. Silently Fayt mourned the dead of his orderly, smooth papers. Chief Traydor would have to live with the fact that his latest records would be marred with Fittir butt prints.
"So, what got you so worried? You are looking as if somebody killed your pet turtle."
"I don't have a pet turtle, Cliff."
The blond just waved him off. "You know what I mean. Come on, tell your worries to good ol' uncle Cliff."
It was hard not too smile, watching his friend's antics, and Fayt felt as small grin tug at his lips, even through all the tiredness and frustrations of the day.
"It's just the case I am working on. God, I am not really sure if it will even become one or if I am just chasing phantoms."
"Huh, that doesn' t sound fun. Have I heard of it yet?"
"Probably not." Fayt slumped farther in his seat, elbows supporting on his knees as he rested his chin on his folded hands. "It just came in last night. Dion Landers, died under strange circumstances."
"Strange circumstances? What do you mean?" The desk groaned under the considerable weight of the man as he shifted, leaning back to support his upper body with his hands and crossing his legs at the ankles. Fayt winced at the sound, the feeble office furniture was not meant to support any significant weight, certainly no such masses as the tall muscled frame of Fittir. The man's own regularly breaking chair and desk were testament to that. Still, for now Fayt decided to hold his tongue in that regard and leave it uncommented. It wouldn't be his paycheck that got cut for a replacement anyway. Instead he focused his thoughts once mre on the case, trying to order them and mulling over how he would best explain things to Cliff. He hoped that talking to the blond might help him to make heads or tails of what had happened, or, if that failed, Cliff's new perspective might yield something new or at least point him in a correct direction. While he normally prefered working alone Fayt knew the worth and importance of other people's opinions, especially those of his close friends. They had helped him more than once when he had been stuck and got the feeling that he would never be able to close the case sucessfully. A second point of view might just be what it took to get things moving again.
"Landers," he finally began. "Died last night while playing in the Eternal Sphere. By drowning." Really, it sounded kind of ridiculous. "He is showing every indication of dying that way. Laryngospasm, foam in the lungs and Albel is expecting that the blood screening will show an increaded amount of carbon dioxid. What's strange is that there was no body of water big enough to drown him in close by. There were no signs of forceful entry or any signs of violence. No indication of a struggle, aside from what was likely Landers flailing around as he fought for breath." He rubbed a hand over his eyes, gaze turned to the floor and brow drawn in a frown. "I considered the possibility of strangulation, a freak case maybe, but Albel assures me that there is no indication for it. Even if he were strangled with a silk shawl, while it would have left no impression on the skin the damage to his airways would be different and there would have been bruises in the flesh. That, and he is missing the typical burst blood vessels in the eyes."
"Sounds tough." The cheer had left Cliff's voice, making way for the seriousness which was kept normally hidden behind his go lucky attitude. "Ya know, I am the last one you will find kissing Nox's ass, but you got to admit he knows his shit. If he says the guy died by drowning than he probably did. So the only thing left for us is to figure out how. You got a tox yet?"
"Still waiting for it. It is no high priority case, so it will probably take a while."
"Jesus, you can probably go home then. No way they will finish it today."
What Cliff said was probably true. He hardly could expect the complete toxiological report today, Fayt was probably lucky if they got back to him this week. The laboratories were bogged down with work, and even if they were not, a thourough screening took its time. It was certainly not like they showed on TV, were they made it out to be a matter of minutes. "I am going to wait here for the results." If he were to say that to one of their forensic scientists they would probably laugh in his face and tell him to get comfortable, since he would be there for a very long time.
"Were there any other people present?"
"From what I know just his girlfriend. She was supposedly sleeping when it happened.."
"Did you have a chance to talk to her yet?"
"No." Frustrated Fayt blew a few of his bangs out of his eyes, once more sitting up straight. It was hard to sit still. While he was tired, his body and mind were wired on coffein and slowly but surely he was getting the jitters. "She is in the hospital. I talked to her doctor. Aside from suffering from a shock from finding her dead boyfriend, she was also badly sick before hand and her condition got worse. She is considered critical at the moment."
"That sucks. I hope she will make it." Cliff's voice was sympathic. "Some people really have all the bad luck."
"Tell me about it." He crossed his legs, sock clad foot swinging up and down as he thought. "Looks like she is alone too. No one has been able to reach any kind of family. And at least Landers did not have many friends."
"What do you mean?"
"I tried talking to some of his colleagues at the university. But no one really knew him, or could tell me what he had been doing when not studying." The younger man made a sound of agitation, setting his feet back down onto the ground with a soft thump. "The only one who might have known something, his teacher, was not reachable. Supposedly out on reasearch or something."
"You got their name?"
"Yes. Elena Frahm."
"Elena Frahm?" Cliff scratched the back of his head, before crossing his arm over his chest, muscles buldging under the dark unifrom shirt. "The name sounds familiar somehow. I am sure I have heard it before. Frahm ... hm..."
"Elena Frahm, one of the world's ruling scientists. She is famous for her research into channeled force."
Fayt nearly toppled out of his chair at the sudden interruption. He had not heard the door opening or closing, nor any steps drawing near.
"Yo, Mirage. You nearly gave poor Fayt a heart attack there. When did you get back?"
"Just now." Fayt looked up at the woman as she came to stop next to them. She was smiling, head tilted to the side and long blonde braid falling nearly reaching to her waist. Her hand was warm, the grip sure as she rested it on his shoulder. "And if Fayt were to die of a heart attack it would not be because of me, but because of all the coffee." She nodded at the cup which still sat on top of Fayt's table, dangerously close to the edge of the desk. "How many cups have you had yet?"
The young man cringed under her gaze. Certainly, her smile was tender and worried, pleasent and sweet to anyone who did not bother to look deeper, for the blue of her eyes was chilled and their look dangerous, promising pain if she did not like the answer.
"I ... I am not quite sure?" Wrong answer, he had to bite back a wince as her grip on his shoulder thightened a little bit, her smile becoming that much sharper as her eyes narrowed. Frantic his gaze svivled to Cliff, who stood behind Mirage, silently begging for help. Cliff just shook his head, so frantic that for a moment Fayt actually feared that it would pop right off, indicating that he was on his own against the tender Terror that was Mirage Coast on a mothering trip.