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This page conserves the character fiction forum of the Agora forums. The posts have been left unformatted to make it easier for users to copy them here and paste them into the new forums.

Oren Itanooren12/10/08 18:25View
Missy12/10/08 22:22View
The backstory of Vulpes.Vulpes12/11/08 01:46View
Erica KesselErica Kessel12/11/08 07:52View
Missy's Story.. a Do-over and another ChapterMissy12/11/08 22:38View
UsrBinPerl12/11/08 23:48View
oren12/11/08 23:57View
Kwekwe's BackstoryKwekwe Karu12/12/08 01:02View
UsrBinPerl12/13/08 00:35View
Eternal SunsetMissy12/13/08 12:19View
Kit Ristow12/14/08 00:01View
ShyMathys12/14/08 00:27View
MasksAlissa12/14/08 00:58View
Lorae12/14/08 01:24View
UsrBinPerl12/14/08 22:07View
Missy's Story Continued..Part 3Missy12/16/08 08:43View
Missy's Story Part 4: Innocence ShatteredMissy12/16/08 18:34View
Missy's Story Part 5: Innocence AnnihilatedMissy12/18/08 17:16View
Small DangersVox12/18/08 21:36View
Saint of The Abyss: Part 1Luciferiel12/19/08 05:21View
Zero....-1Justa Zero12/19/08 17:38View
Zero....1Justa Zero12/19/08 18:26View
Óðr’s Daughter. Chapter I: A Guiding DreamAsil Karu12/20/08 02:39View
Omega To Alphaerinnic12/23/08 16:49View
Her Bloody Tears [-Past Event-]Methias12/23/08 18:09View
Lost Kitsune - A Shattered MindKiera12/25/08 18:51View
Usr's story Part IVUsrBinPerl12/27/08 20:34View
The EssexHeir Maelstrom12/29/08 04:23View
Kwekwe's shameKwekwe Karu12/30/08 18:11View
Joint Round Robin Fic Anyone...?erinnic12/30/08 19:07View
God Was On Her Lips As She Diederinnic01/02/09 23:31View
Love and Betrayal - A New Beginningkessjuliesse01/03/09 13:46View
The Diary of Cody Woodhencodywoodhen01/05/09 21:35View
Missy's Story Part 6: Innocence AbductedMissy01/07/09 06:23View
Cursed BladeYannis_Martynov01/08/09 21:27View
Story Thread: Community Round Robin Ficerinnic01/09/09 23:25View
The demon withinCanly Fargis01/11/09 16:14View
Ziau- CoLA's Very Own CasanovaZiau01/13/09 02:09View
Twisted Attentionserinnic01/21/09 20:34View
Inspiration- music and roleplayZiau01/26/09 08:01View
Compilation! Where were you when it all happened?Ziau01/28/09 09:12View
The Clock Struck MidnightMalice Ashdene01/28/09 22:31View
With Precision- a poem by Kelly Welch A.k.A Ziau Jua.Ziau01/29/09 04:36View
Alisa's dicovery of a new world (character sheet + story)Alisa Draconia01/30/09 19:17View
The Shadow Stepper- Ziau the Enshadowed.Ziau02/01/09 07:26View
Krista Lemon arrives to the streets of Lost AngelsKrista02/03/09 00:09View
Back Story Upto the Excile of Rune.RuneCrimson02/03/09 21:59View
War with the Brood, war with the Coven, and the Pack.Ziau02/07/09 04:11View
-- Halcyon's Backstory --Halcyon Nacht02/08/09 00:22View
Planer/Exonar family (aka, Erinyse, Khalan, Viridian, Cummere, Selena)Cummere Mayo02/08/09 03:53View
Kit's BackstoryKit Ristow02/10/09 18:40View
Eyes in the DarkKeyla02/11/09 09:47View
Surfacing Part ILlyr02/13/09 22:21View
Surfacing Part IILlyr02/13/09 22:35View
Tama-Chan: A Cat's Story (Tamara's background)Tamara02/17/09 07:35View
Project: A map of Post Apocalypse North AmericaTamara02/17/09 19:21View
Dreamtime RevelationsWinter02/19/09 18:08View
Reaver-the echo of the BlackwindAntiZero02/23/09 00:43View
On the Origin of SpeciesTamara02/25/09 22:38View
ConfessionKit Ristow02/26/09 01:39View
Personnel File: Pointe, Zsuzsanna C. (Inactive, Deceased)Su Pointe02/26/09 03:32View
Malice, in a Different Kind of WonderlandMalice Ashdene02/27/09 18:07View
The Dark of InspirationKit Ristow03/01/09 21:42View
Jheric: CrucifiedKayle Ashdene03/03/09 10:53View
It's my lifearsene_Braveheart03/05/09 18:18View
The Tradgedy of the HybridDigital Enigma03/29/09 07:09View
The Sin of Wrathmolly switchblade04/02/09 21:28View
Golden BoyEphran Ehrler04/15/09 06:12View
Story About A GirlAesendria04/24/09 15:34View
Climaxe by Smith and WessonSloan04/28/09 06:19View
My new project ATTENTION Russian Characters!Ziau05/01/09 06:42View
**NSFW** A Typical Tuesday Night for MissyMissy05/06/09 20:48View
Post your profile links!Cortero Landar05/07/09 10:25View
Making Logan SufferAesendria05/12/09 07:09View
Jeanne VarunJeanne Varun05/14/09 08:24View
The Vanguard's True PurposeLogan05/16/09 01:03View
Cortero's Infernal ArmorCortero Landar05/16/09 06:52View
Bookstore SurpriseAesendria05/16/09 23:16View
Post your profile links if you have in-story info in them!Cortero Landar05/18/09 10:33View
PromisesAesendria05/24/09 02:44View
Cyber Evolution Bios, Anur Seda, Cyber Reaper, and Commander of CETheassassin06/08/09 11:28View
Was any of it real?Youko_Giha06/12/09 15:28View
A shift in prioritiesLogan06/17/09 04:21View
Going homeLudvig06/17/09 19:10View
'Ren in Japanoren06/18/09 23:11View
Thelma across the boardThelemaJuliesse06/26/09 15:09View
Pre-fiction: How Kayteear got here.Kayteear07/15/09 16:43View
Story TimeCharissa07/17/09 19:03View
Pack Airship RP.Tai07/27/09 02:49View
My CharacterLilith1308/05/09 22:34View
LilithLilith1308/06/09 09:30View
The Haunter in the DarkShadow08/14/09 21:50View
The Flying HeadsKwekwe Karu08/16/09 16:52View
Why selling coffins is impossible in CoLAZiau08/23/09 04:14View
Paint it red!Ziau08/23/09 07:51View
Young Cowards.Ziau08/23/09 08:28View
Great video for RPers and people passionate about writing.Ziau09/05/09 08:55View
Dux - 264 BCDux09/10/09 18:41View
The Thing at South Gate SanitariumShadow09/15/09 22:09View
♪♫ Do you wanna RP my avatar ♪♫Kayteear09/17/09 14:45View
Jessica's MotherJessica Susser09/21/09 04:19View
Ziau Challenged me to. NSFWChasityDawes09/21/09 07:17View
The Divine Machine.................Theassassin09/21/09 22:29View
I Bleed my Blood for Myself.Ziau09/22/09 22:28View
Cronicle of a deathKayteear09/24/09 01:34View
"Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself"DavidJoshua Artful09/26/09 17:07View
Old Versus NewDigital Enigma09/27/09 20:28View
The Shadowed Order, The Eternal Order, Ordo MachinaTheassassin10/06/09 06:55View
Elamyrath's HistoryElamyrath10/10/09 00:52View
The here, the now, the dead. The Minus.TheMinus Ziskey10/10/09 12:41View
Before bed ritual.Amy Guisse10/17/09 04:13View
Alone?Ike10/18/09 15:34View
IS this High School again?Theassassin10/24/09 12:49View
Sidhe vs DrowOrlok Lectar10/29/09 04:08View
Daddy bluesarsene_Braveheart11/17/09 19:01View
Chronicles of SIEagentlyseria11/22/09 12:27View
The Lady In Black(A Drokan Exile Twisted Love Story)AntiZero11/29/09 06:36View
The growing Darkness.Leirain Koray12/01/09 11:04View
The lycanKayteear12/01/09 16:00View
City of Lost Jackman: The Untold Hollywood BlockbusterAntiZero12/02/09 07:11View
Coming home for christmas ..Kes12/10/09 22:17View
Bunneh Vs. Lich, DBZ styleKarsha Yutani12/14/09 11:59View
A FarewellRoland12/16/09 20:50View
Of Death and RebirthDigital Enigma12/21/09 20:14View
The Story of ReocoReoko Farspire02/06/10 20:47View
Homecoming......... The Story of Orpheus DarkfoldOrpheusDarkfold03/11/10 02:27View
The Story of Orpheus Part 2OrpheusDarkfold03/13/10 23:15View
Who owns who?Kayteear03/22/10 22:03View
Missing the Oceanricercar03/23/10 22:27View
Letter to the editor: Manners in LATink03/25/10 16:58View
Chasity BackstoryChasityDawes06/14/10 19:43View
Something Black and Violent...DavidJoshua Artful06/19/10 22:23View
Doctor Visiterinnic07/12/10 04:26View
Gabby Perdidevacantghost07/19/10 04:42View
arsene_BraveheartThe sound of silence


Memory chips are small and handy.

Being small is not handy, as a matter of fact, for small things get lost easily. They slide in darkness under cushions where they maliciously wait to be found by someone to which it can do the most harm.

But, still, memory chips are handy, because they store things. Plenty of different things. This one holds the sound of a voice. A masculine voice. His voice is somewhat buffered, as if he was talking in a tiny room or a big closet. There’s no other voice here. Only his voice and, sometimes a few other noises. But the man is alone. Alone with himself. He speaks to himself. And what would be the point to lie to oneself ? Mmm... yes... isn’t it what we all do ?
But this one seems to try and be sincere. So let’s hear what he wants to let himself know about him.

He speaks some foreign language. French probably. Fortunately, computers can translate. At least this one can.


*Toc toc toc*

Does that thing even work ?
Don’t remember last time I put batteries in...

*gullup gullup gullup*

It’s so freaky...
What am I even doing in there ?


Sitting alone in a dark closet with a flickering torchlight and a tired voice recorder. That sounds so teenage like... My old Arsene, you’re pathetic...

OK, so red light’s on...
Should work.

Why on earth am I there ?
Mmm.. tough question... Most probably trying to analyze myself or something.
Well, no...
I have to take something out of my chest. And I don’t have any friends to tell it to.
Does that sound pathetically emo or what ?
Yes, of course I have friends. Some would be very happy to try and help me, I guess. Some I would even trust enough to open my heart to them.
So why ?
Why can’t I just go into the bar, get mildly inebriated and then go to a friend’s, knock on their door and just crumble on their sofa to pity myself on ? Or just gather a good ole big buddy and drown my ridiculous problems into some home made brew that would put Louisiana’s to shame ?

*gulp gulp gulp gulp gulp*

... instead of drinking ginger ale and talking to a recorder ...

Could be I’m too proud.
I’m a healer. People come to see me and ask for my help. If I’m honest with me, I like that. Mmm... not because it is a position of power or something... Nor because I get thanked… when I get thanked, that is. Nope, really, what I like is that I take someone in bad shape and put it back in good shape. Well, as good as I can anyway. That’s the true reward.
But now, it’s me who’s in bad shape and need of help… AND I FUCKING HATE THAT !!!!
I ain’t gonna give the feeling I’m weak. Especially around here, where it can call unwanted attentions of the most dangerous sort. I ain’t gonna cry on a friend’s shoulder. I hate crying too.
But oh God, how I feel like it right now...


OK... might as well get to the point. Take it off my chest.
Spit it all, dude, we’ll sort it afterwards...

*gulp gulp gulp gulp gulp*

My love and wife is gonna have a baby.
A fucking crying baby !
My sweet and obedient slave who swore to me she was sterile is going to sprout out a huge belly and spit out three kilograms of mucous tainted meat who’s gonna PIERCE my EARS from the VERY FIRST second of its existence... And after that, I won’t be able to sleep a fucking night without the thing SHRIEKING and waking me the fucking up ! And after that, that meat ball is going to SCREW MY SEXUAL LIFE just by being there around when I want to nail her on the wall !! And then it will HASTEN my demise just by the INSANE amount of worries and responsibility it will BURDEN me with !!! And when it finally reaches something ressembling adulthood, if he doesn’t heartbreak my beloved wife by getting itself killed before teenage, he will EAT any wealth I may have amassed by DEMANDING things around WITHOUT MOVING ITS FUCKING ASS FROM THE SOFA, after which he’ll tell me I’m too old to be relevant and will demonstrate to me how pathetic a father I have always have been !!!


Well, six, actually... Mmm.. sort of... the last three months have really really be perfect, once we got to know each other better... Got to know our secret desires... Our carnal needs... It’s been really perfection... A happiness I would never have dreamed could exist. A love that was so strong and deep and overwhelming I felt like nothing could happen to me...
And then THIS thing happened !...

I mean...


What the fuck...
Even receiving a pair of striped socks for Christmas doesn’t suck as much as that.
I’m screwed and I have to say thank you... Great...

Of course, it’s a wonderful gift, eh ? Everyone says so. Why, I even said so myself to so many people...
Fuck... Next time I hear one of those belly full preggies telling me how happy they are to be stuffed, I’ll go straight to her mate to offer my condolences.
But, yeah.. babies are sacred... Everybody loves babies, they say. People who don’t adore babies are monsters, they say. Social pressure it’s called. Yeah... Social pressure on your balls that forces you to get in total admiration over how much your life is filled with shit... often in a literal sense...

*gulp gulp gulp*

Actually that’s why I couldn’t go and see a friend and tell them how I feel : cause they would have treated me like I was a monster.
Telling me how much it’s great to have one sweet little baby crawling in your feet and puking its baby food al over your keyboard.
Big wide eyes full of love... That kind of things... My ass... Big fucking bag of troubles, yeah...
Oh and I love the part about how good it feels to teach them what you know... Yeah, sure... I know about nuclear physics, field trauma, paranormal medicine and ritual magic, how does that register with a 6 months old ? uh, smart guy ?

And this is surely such a wonderful happiness to live with a child. Or two. Because, of course, she’ll want a second one. Just in case the first one is not a nuisance enough.
I can picture that just right...

“Hey , daddy, why are you spanking Mummy, she’s been bad ?”
“Hey, daddy, I went down to the dungeon in your club, it’s weird, there’s plenty of naked and tied women who are screaming down there !”
“Come on, love, not now, the children are up, they could see us...”
“Hey, daddy, you know that big red button in your lab, I just pushed it to see what happened ! The red lights and sirens were just cool ! Can I do it again when it is not flooded any more ?”
“No, remove your hands, I said not now...”
“Hey, daddy, Jeffrey ate my hand at school. The teacher said he’s a lycan but I should still be friend with him cause it’s not good to discriminate. Can you regrow me one ?”
“For the last time, not now, get your hands off...”
“Hey daddy, can we have garlic bread for dinner, at school the vampires are bullying us for our blood...”
“OK, so now, they are asleep, and I am available. Was it so hard to wait ? What ? What do you mean you don’t feel like it now ? You don’t love me anymore ?”

Yeah.. just right...

I had all I wanted...
Why does it have to stop...

*gulp gulp gulp gulp gulp*

I had places that were allowing me to live my passions and my fantasies...
How can I keep this secret lab with access through the sewers, now... Or that BDSM club... I’d be accused of all sorts of horrible things if I’d keep them. Parents are not supposed to do that. Parents are just supposed to stop living until they have finished to breed their cattle, and that’s all.
There’s no such thing as an average parent… During all their childhood I’ll be expected to be a good father and, however hard I try, when they reach teenage, they’ll tell me how awful a father I ever was.



And then… I had her…
I had a wife I cherished more than anything on earth and who adored me... Always hot for me, always loving... I never have loved anyone like this. And I do believe her when she says it’s the same for her.
But now she’ll share her love. And the little one will get the lion’s share.
Oh, sure, she has a heart generous enough to love me just as fiercely as before and still love her children like the proudest mother. I know she’ll be the most wonderful mother on earth. And I know I’ll never cease to love her like mad. And I know she’ll do her best to preserve time for me…
But you don’t fight against biology. Kids need time. And attention…. Damn, these little critters are the most horrible attention whores. So they’ll get priority. That’s normal. And I’ll get to be intimate with her when she has time, not when we feel like it.

Come to think of it… Do I just see her as a sexual object ?


It’s a matter of freedom…
Right now we go anywhere the fancy takes us, we sleep here or there, we make love when the need takes us. And we do what we want to do, whether it’s for sex or anything.
Now, it’s over. Finished.
It will be a regulated life… up with the first kid’s screams and running all day till they fall asleep again and stop screaming. Day after day after day…
I don’t even feel the drive anymore to spank her, let alone play naughty games with her. It’s just… not funny anymore, knowing what’s coming up. It’s like the last days of the vacations : they are still beautiful and full of opportunities, but the return to work looming on the horizon spoils all the fun you can take from them.
Or perhaps it is an unconscious way to make her pay for that. Cause I think she wouldn’t be opposed to naughty games… Mmm… Don’t think so. I just… don’t feel like it. That’s all.

Let’s face it, I’ve lost her.
I’ve lost the wonderful lover I had and got it replaced with the most wonderful mother on earth. Perhaps that’s great too, but that’s not what I asked for, Santa…
I had everything I ever wanted, I was just happy like this…


*gulp gulp gulp gulp*

Enough pitying on myself.
It’s good to take it off my chest and I needed it to say it. Even to a microphone…
But, what now ?
I just can’t say all this to her. It would break her heart. And thus it would kill me. I love her much too much for that.
And I know she would do anything to see me happy. Perhaps she could even renounce this pregnancy. But she would be unhappy for the rest of her life. Oh, the radiant smile she had when she told me the news… The enthusiasm with which she told our friends that she was pregnant… She beams happiness. And I’d do anything to make her happy like that till the end of time.

So, well… the choice is there : either I talk to her and I break her heart, or I shut up and deal with that.


Like there was any choice at all…

You’ll be a father, my old Arsene.
Like it or not.
11/17/09 19:01

I love you, my heart, and Missy forever loves her Arsene, despite what she will discover one day soon as she tidies the study and discovers the voice chip recording.

(Stay tuned on this dial for updates to this thread to learn more about what will happen with the Missy and Arsene Pregnancy Saga... but for now, the player really HAS to work or she'll be unemployed and unemployed for the player = no new outfits for Misseh and that = sad face for everrryyyyoneeee :D )
11/17/09 19:09
Kayteear/KTR plops onto his sofa holding a great bowl of popcorn11/17/09 21:23
RaelynDon't worry Arsene. Raelyn eats babies. She'll solve aaaaaaall your problems. ;)11/21/09 01:16
MissyThe sound of humming fills the air; a soft melodious voice fills the corners of the room, filling in the cracks of the silent and somewhat dusty manager’s office in the O-Club. Missy flops down into the chair behind the desk, swiping a hand over her lightly sweated brow. She smiles as she arranges the papers on the desk, noting the increased receipts for the hotel and she cannot help but feel a glimmer of satisfaction that she and Arsene are finally seeing a return on their investments.. a narrow one to be sure, but one nonetheless, a result of increased traffic at the properties they have acquired and restored. It’s a good thing too that things are on the upswing financially for them at last.

With the promise of another mouth to feed, a new baby to look after, they’ll need the money. Her thoughts drift dreamily as she drops a slender hand to rest it over her still washboard flat tummy. She can’t believe the blessings life has bestowed upon her and she thanks the powers that be for each and every one every day. First she was accepted and taken in by her Pack family, accorded a level of affection and love and respect she had seldom experienced with her “own kind.” Then she was lucky enough to meet her eternal soul mate, to be married to him. These last few months of their lives have been idyllic and Missy has never been happier. Until... Until the day she discovered her pregnancy and that has been the cherry on the top of Missy’s cake of wild happiness and joy. She never expected to bear life in her womb, not after.. not after the attacks she’d endured and sustained during her 24 young years. She gives her head a shake, along with her dust cloth, shaking away the past memories just as she shakes out the dust motes from her rag, leaving them to hang harmlessly in the weak slant of sunshine that struggles to pierce the grey clouds outside and slip into the office where Missy sits now.

She gathers up the papers and slides open a desk drawer to store them safely inside when the gleam of something she doesn’t recognize catches her eye. It looks metallic and she pulls the drawer open wider, reaching into its far depths. She lifts it out from under a scrap piece of paper and turns it over in her slender palm.

“What’s this?” she murmurs and as she flips it she spots the buttons on the side of one slender edge. Her fingers play over the buttons and then she smiles as it turns on and the wonderful voice of the man she loves more than she’s ever loved anyone fills the room. She settles in the chair, propping her chin in the center of her palms, her elbows resting on the surface of the desk as she avidly starts to listen to the little recorder translate the rich warm tones of her husband’s voice from his native French into lilting English she can more easily understand.

As Arsene begins to speak Missy doesn’t think much is amiss. Not at first. She knows her husband keeps his emotions mostly tightly bottled up. She’s far more emotional of the two and he is far more rational and level headed. And that works well for them, or has thus far anyway. So she’s relaxed, if a bit anxious to hear what problem has Arsene sitting in the closet where she’d hypnotized him to help relieve his ongoing night terrors and brief relapses into the scary fugue states where he seemed to forget her for brief periods of time, where he’d obviously recorded this confession of sorts, feeling the need to unburden his heart in the dark. She swallows and her heart rate starts to thrum lightly and quickly against her breastbone as he says “Sooo... My love and wife is gonna have a baby. A fucking crying baby !” and at first she’s sure she misheard the word “fucking” in the middle of that last sentence.. but no.. it gets worse. It gets so much worse.

Missy sits bolt upright as Arsene continues to speak, her hands slipping out from under her chin to grip either side of the desk she sits in front of, her back ramrod straight, all of the blood draining from her face as his voice goes on and on, each word he speaks driving a stake right through her heart. Her fingers grip the desk edges tautly, her knuckles whitened with the effort. The top of the desk shudders as her body starts to shake in shocked reaction as his voice on the small device rises to a roar of anger and fury she’s never ever heard from him before. Tears blind her vision and even as she stares incomprehensibly at the innocuous looking piece of electronic equipment, the room around her seems to dip and swirl as she literally reels in pain and confusion.

As Arsene rages on, his diatribe seeming to Missy to last forever, it seems as though she has lost the power to breathe, unable to remember how to do any of those autonomic things our bodies do without conscious thought each and every day. Her heart keeps beating despite the fact that she feels as though it’s breaking and yes.. she keeps breathing but it’s so shallow and there seems to be no air in the room at all. Spots of dancing light appear in front of her eyes and for long moments her vision tunnels, greying out at the edges, drawing inward so that all that Missy can see is that infernal recorder with its evilly mocking red light that indicates it still has more invective to spill into Missy’s shocked ears and stuttering heart.

At last.. at long long last the voice stops, the device clicks itself off and Missy’s ears are filled with a ringing silence. Nothing moves, nothing stirs, save for those motes of dust that settle once more in a fine film over everything in the room. Missy’s lips are parted and her dark green eyes are wide and stricken. She’s paralyzed for long moments, just hanging onto the desk with cramping fingers, the seconds ticking themselves away as the clock next to her marches on. The meagre light eventually fades from the perpetually darkened skies and Missy is soon sitting in the same darkness her husband had when he gave voice to thoughts and feelings he had been immensely successful at hiding from her. Missy slowly rises from the chair, every muscle in her body seeming to creak with age and aches and pains she’s never felt before. She feels decades older than she did when she first walked into this room and she wishes desperately that she could turn the clock back a few hours, to unhear what is now seared indelibly on her heart.

She picks up the recorder, once again looking innocuous and harmless in the center of her palm, not even the red light glowing malevolently at her any more now that it is finally silent. With a ragged sob and cry of the deepest pain, Missy hurls the electronic equipment across the room with all the force she can muster. The recorder smashes with a violent crash and the delicate machinery bursts into a cascade of broken shards. Missy walks over to it and she stomps on it for good measure, as though she’d be able to exact some sort of retribution on it for what she perceives to be the destruction of her brief shining happiness. She gives up the task as hopeless and whirls from the room, leaving this mess behind her on the office floor for anyone to find. Her feet rush down the hall and then she pushes through the heavy doors of the tribunal room, clattering madly up the stairs to the loft she shares with Arsene.

“Out .. out.. out.. must.. must get out” is the mantra that fills her ears now, a voice she doesn’t recognize whispering, filling her head, drowning out all else for the moment. She runs up the stairs to the loft room and a ripping sob is torn from her as she’s faced with the familiar furnishings, each one stamped with a happy memory, the sense of Arsene strong and pulsing here, the scent of his cologne reaching her nostrils. She clamps a hand over her mouth and her other arm wraps around her belly as she bends over, her shoulders heaving in a repressed cry of pain. She stomps her foot and shakes her head, fighting back the urge to scream, to sob wildly until she can hardly breathe. Not now.. later.. she’ll do all that later.. for now.. for now .. the unknown voice keeps echoing in her mind insistently.

“Out .. out.. out.. must.. must get out”

She unfolds herself and walks over to the bed, not looking at the surface of it, sliding her eyes past his pillow and she falls to her knees, reaching far underneath it to tug out her old backpack.. the one she used when she was running for her life.. the time right before she and Arsene became.. became.. NO!! Don’t remember anything!

“Out .. out.. out.. must.. must get out”

Her face wet with tears that rush over her cheeks, Missy moves to the bureau she shares with her husband and not paying any attention to what she tosses in there, save to make sure it comes from her drawers, she packs quickly, her hands shaking, her eyes blurred and largely unseeing. She grabs her toothbrush and her hairbrush and simply leaves everything else, not bothering to shut the bureau drawers, not bothering to do anything else except haphazardly close the bag shut with trembling fingers.

She hesitates at the top of the stairs before leaving the loft. She tucks one last thing into her bag. She picks up the picture of her husband she took a few months ago.. a picture she’s not even sure he knows she took of him.. it’s before his haircut and her fingertips tingle as they brush over the glass, across his features before she shoves it as deep into her bag as she can. She bites her lip, debating what to do next.. where to go..her thoughts are wild and scattered and yet.. she knows she must leave word with him. Just to assure him her absence is voluntary.. sort of.

She manages to find a ripped piece of paper and a pen and as tears splash on the page she writes...

“My dearest Arsene..
true eternal love of my life..
I.. I.. I love you. No matter what, I love you.
I’ll .. I’ll be back.. dunno when. Don’t look for me.
Never forget how much I love you. I’d give you anything, do anything for you.
All my love, always, in all ways, Your Missy.”

Missy leaves the O-Club and Rampart, headed for parts unknown, her backpack slung over her hunched shoulders, weighted more by grief and pain than the contents of the bag, her rifle slung across the pack. The ringing sound of silence once more fills and consumes the building. Shrouding it and leaving it in perfect darkness and quiet, if not peace.


Edited to add:

Missy trudges down the road, not registering anything she passes, her face whipped by the cold air blown from the cold frigid ocean. Not even the pain in her feet from her impossibly high heels penetrates the deeper pain lodged in the center of her heart, like a festering splinter she’s powerless to scrabble out of her skin. She leaves it for now.. just following the pathway her feet lead her, no idea in her head where she is going.

Finally she comes to an abandoned shelter and she makes some rudimentary preparations, setting up a crude camp of sorts. She unfurls her sleeping bag on the hard floor, the padding not very thick and not likely to be terribly comfortable but it’s the best she can do for the moment at least. She lights a low fire in the nearby hearth and unpacks the few essentials she brought with her, including the camp stove from under the restaurant, a bottle of water and last of all, and most precious to her, the picture of her and Arsene reclining on one of the O-Club couches. She immediately bursts into tears, harsh sobs wracking her throat as she finally.. finally sobs out her pain and confusion into the deep velvety night. Missy curls up inside the sleeping bag, rocking back and forth, clutching the photograph of her husband to her heaving breast.

She's tired enough to fall into an exhausted sleep though, despite her worries and desperately throbbing heartache, despite the strange land she sleeps in. The shelter she huddles in is snug and dry but the sounds and smells are alien, and, if she was less emotionally overwrought, frightening. But for now at least, the life growing inside her offers her a measure of peace and rest. She tumbles headlong into a deep dark well of sleep, unfortunately far from dreamless.
11/23/09 05:06
Missy((I have to be out of town for the next 5 days or so and thus, I thought it timely for Missy to "find" Arsene's recording and take a bit of a sabbatical to think things over. I might be online in the evenings during this week, I don't know for sure, it'll depend on how knackered I am at the end of the day. But I won't be RPing in CoLA as Missy until I get back, or until Arsene finds Missy, hehe. Hope you enjoyed this latest installment of the Arsene and Missy pregnancy diaries. *MUAH*))11/23/09 05:16
Kayteear/KTR stops muching his pop-corn and goes \O/
Missy and Arsene need the following piece of advice:

[quote=Missy][...] if things are allowed to fester and brew beneath the surface, then soon you aren't just dealing with a small problem anymore, it's snowballed into a much larger issue [...].[/quote]
11/23/09 12:32
RaelynI want another post now!

Can I come rescue you Missy!? I'll treat you better with plenty of rapes and we can om nom nom the fetuses of your unborn children! :D I'll make a good wife someday.
11/23/09 16:16
arsene_BraveheartSnow. The ultimate eraser. It blurs the familiar landscape. It muffles the sounds. It soothes the heart. Or so they say.

Through the open door, the giant wolf can see the heavy snow fall, its course whipped into frenzy by the harsh North wind that spreads a freezing bite over the helpless hills. The fall of the myriad snowflakes is mesmerizing to him. It helps him ignore his inner thoughts, and the icy pain that gnaws at his heart with fangs of steel.
Behind him, the hearth radiates a comforting heat that warms his rugged fur.

The giant wolf hardly moves. A quick flicker of an ear and the regular raising of his chest are the only things that tell he’s alive. But, inside, he’s dead.
A snowflake falls slowly on him, landing on his nose, as his eyes get lost into the white blanket that smothers the scenery.


A snowflake falls slowly on him, landing on his nose, as he removes his winter jacket, whose furred cowl has protected him from the cold blizzard of the Wastes.
After the long walk through the warmer streets of Lost Angels and Little China, this is probably the last surviving snowflake.
Arsene smiles. Having been raised in Africa, snow has always seemed magic to him. A good kind of magic. A magic from before the time magic could kill you.

He removes his jacket and places his assault rifle in the weapon’s rack, then he carefully stores his medical supplies on the shelves nearby.
He passes a hand on his tired face. He has barely slept at all the day before, with the expedition in the Catacombs. And this morning he was up early again to attend his duties.

A sudden growl in his stomach reminds him he has not eaten much either…
He smirks. In the Club, there’s no kitchen. He will have to talk to Missy about that. That and plenty of other things about the Club. Because it is out of the question that his kid could come and go at will in this place and risk getting into the BDSM dungeon below… Arsene has already thought about that and made plans to make separate doors… Yes, he’ll definitely have to tell his Missy about that. His beloved Missy.
But, for now, he’s hungry. And he remembers that he has kept something that could pass for a cereal bar in the manager’s desk.
Whistling a joyous song, he quickly climbs the stairs that lead to the first floor.

His song dies as he sees the remains of the voice recorder splattered at the bottom of the wall.

Half a second is enough to understand what occurred here. Everything comes at once to his mind as kaleidoscopic images that flash and burst into his mind like a mad stroboscope. The day he recorded his negative feelings about Missy’s pregnancy, the memory chip forgotten in the recorder, his own voice full of rage… and he can almost see in his heart Missy’s violent gesture of despair as she throws the recorder against the wall. He can guess her tears, and her pain, and her heart braking, and he feels his own heart break at the same time.
Missy… his one love… his eternal companion… He lives to make her happy, he thrives on her smile and pleasure… And now he has stabbed her in the back. No one else to blame but his own carelessness.

Leaning on the wall to try and stay on his feet, Arsene feels his heart almost stop and his face go pale. Slowly, he slides down the wall and finally finds himself seated by the wrecked recorder. He takes the debris in his hand and looks at it as if it could help anything.
Then he lifts his head and rests it on the wall behind and, at this very minute, he promises himself never again to open his heart to anyone nor any machine… One’s pain is enough to live through, but spreading it over the ones you love and seeing them suffer because of you is just unbearable.

For a moment, the barely audible ticks of the clock are the only sounds that float in the room where Arsene sits against the wall, frozen by pain, guilt and sorrow.
But pitying over your errors has never solved anything.
Pushing against the wall with his hand, Arsene stands up. He looks up at the ceiling and, beyond, at the loft they have on the uppermost floor of the building. Surely, she must be there. Crying, perhaps.
Bursting through the judgement room, Arsene flies along the stairs and surges into the bedroom.

“Missy ?”
“Missy, you’re here ?”
“Missy ?”

The room is small. The calls are redundant, useless and pathetic. And that’s precisely how Arsene feels at the moment.
A circular look around the room tells him something is amiss. He frowns and steps in further. Then he sees the note.
A handwritten note his gently placed on his pillow, on his side of the bed. He reads it. He smiles as a tear beads on the corner of his eye. He passes a loving finger across the wrinkled paper, as if this gentle caress could reach his wife, wherever she is.

“Don’t look for me… Yeah… sure… My sweet beloved Missy, do you really believe I’ll do that ? How could I live a single day here when I know you’re somewhere else ? How could I feel safe when I know that you’re out there, in this mad and weird world… You’re kidding me, eh ?”
He takes up a pen, perhaps the same one that Missy used to write her own note, and writes at the back : “I’ll get you back.”
And then he says for himself : “Or I’ll die trying…”

As he places the paper back on her pillow, Arsene considers his options. Despite his overwhelming urge to find his love, he must acknowledge the fact that he has few, if only because he doesn’t consider asking people about her to be an option.
“Hey, sorry, dude, did you see my wife ? I broke her heart because I freaked out when she announced to me she was pregnant…” Yeah, sure… The amount of shame would be epic.
Pressing fingers on his sleepless eyes, and hushing his grumbling stomach, Arsene finally decides on a course of action. Perhaps not the best, and certainly the most risky. But he feels he has no real choice.

As he unfastens the belt of his pants, he mumbles to himself.
“Using magic is out of the question. It would take a much better magician than I am to find her in the City. Perhaps the gypsies down the hotel could see her with their scrying glass, but they are never here when we are… Damn luck… No… I really don’t have any other solution.”

With fast and precise gestures, he removes his shirt and places it on the ottoman, by the hearth. The dancing flames sculpt his masculine features with sharp shadows tinted in a fiery orange, enhancing the muscles playing under his skin. The, he removes his pants, placing it carefully next to his T-shirt. The magic scars he bears as ancient traces of a binding ritual seem to take a life of their own under the warm light of the fire.
Suddenly, he stands up, as if he had forgotten something. He goes to the bed, picks up the note he has written again, and adds a few words.

“I’m a husky like wolf. Only bigger.”

Despite being a member of the Pack, Arsene is not a lycan. He’s just a human. Well, a human with something special.
For long nightmare plagued years he hasn’t known anything about his childhood. But in the past months Missy has helped him pierce the veil of darkness that obscures his origins.
So many questions are yet to be answered, but he already knows a few things.
He has been raised by some sort of paramilitary French secret society with other children who shared with him the genetic ability to use magic, a rather rare trait among humans. They were raised to infiltrate the clans and families of Lycans and Vampires and Demons, and all other non human races to conduct assassination and sabotage missions, when the time of Apocalypse would come. Arsene escaped this prison in his preteen years, but has kept with him the knowledge he has been taught there. Since he had to teach himself most of the rituals of shapechanging, he only masters a few forms. Well… ‘master’ may be a big word… The last time he’s been in Hispo form, he nearly stayed stuck in it. If Chas had not been here…
But, well… It’s not like he has a choice… There’s nothing like a big primitive wolf to follow a scent.

Arsene stands in their bedroom, naked, his side lighted and painted a fiery orange by the fire in the hearth they so often contemplated together in the afterglow of their most intimate moments. In front of him is a picture of his beloved Missy. In his hands, a transparent night gown that she has just put aside for laundry. He places it on his nose and mouth, digging himself in her fragrance, inebriating in her sweet scent, while his eyes slowly follow the luscious curves of her feminine body that the picture fails to show in all their glorious sensuality.
Slowly, he feels his humanity recede, and his intelligence shrink into oblivion, but in his animal mind burns the image of a fiery haired woman who means everything to him, and in his heart, his love shines like a young star.

A few minutes later, a giant wolf gets out of the Club, opening the portal with his teeth, and trots away in the street, his nose on the ground, searching for his lost love.

The wolf doesn’t look at all like a simple wolf. He’s as tall as a pony, with fangs the size of survival knifes and a vicious gnarling design on his mouth. He’s a Hispo, the form of the lycan which is reminiscent of the Dire Wolf of old, the form which gave the isolated populations the visceral fear of the big bad wolf, and who’s most famous as being the one of the Beast of Gevaudan.
But, despite this monstrous appearance, this huge wolf’s eyes keep the blue of Arsene’s and, in them, burns the image of Missy.

Being in wolf form is very different from being a human, as would say Captain Obvious, and it’s especially true for the sight and smell.
Imagine that each person in the street would exhale a coloured mist around them, a mist that would linger and slowly dissipate in the wind when they leave, a mist that would stick to the things they touch for a while. Imagine that all of the plants would produce a like mist, and most chemical products too. Imagine that the colour would that more glowing when the object has a strong smell, with dumpsters and garbage bags seeming like bright halos that punctuate the city streets like a row of public lights.
Now imagine all of these specifically coloured mists shifting with the wind and passage, mixing together in a swirling cloud, or tainting each other in public areas.
Now imagine that you would have to follow a specific colour in that kaleidoscope, and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what a dog task can be.

The dire wolf advances in the deserted streets of Rampart, the suave perfume of Missy’s cologne easy to follow in the calm streets of the residential suburb.
For a long time he walks, and sniffs, and walks… and sniffs here and there… and walks even further, avoiding groups of people scattered along the way as his narrowed mind is set on the only task of finding Missy, finding Arsene’s wife and eternal love.
But as he arrives in the outskirt of downtown LA, he is met by an acrid and burning smell that leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, a taste he recognises all to well : the taste of gunpowder.
Screams and shouts reach his straightened up ears, among the detonations of shotguns or the cackling chatter of machine guns. Above the moans of the wounded, he hears the howling of a wolf calling to the fight, a call that the beast in him cannot resist, his human consciousness lost into the big mass of muscles and fangs he has slipped himself in.

Moved only by his pack instinct, the dire wolf walks to the fight, crouching under walls height to escape the stray shots that draw mortal arabesques in the polluted air. He knows not who is fighting who, nor why, only that there are wolves involved and that he has to help them.
Everything has erupted into a chaos of swirling tentacles and burning swords, vicious bites and loud gunshots. Mortal magic screeches through the air in answer to solid lead, and many combatants are just rolling on the dirty streets, their hands or fangs at each other’s throat as they slither during their fight over the thick blood spread on the pavement by those already fallen.
Driven by his feral urges, the great wolf goes from one group to another, dragging fallen lycans in safety so that they can lick their wounds, or licking them himself, the dire wolf’s licks having a magical healing power, if only to wake up the wounded and make them recover from their daze.
Taken within the chaos of the battle, Arsene’s last remnants of a human consciousness are buried under the overwhelming instincts that drive the wolf and he slowly gives in to the total dissipation of his personality into the animal’s mind, only getting back to human thinking from time to time before sinking back into the comfortable easiness of instinctual behaviour.

At one moment, he perceives a familiar presence. A catman, ironically, but, as he tries to communicate with him, a female neko arrives and hisses at him words he cannot understand but knows are most unwelcoming.
The giant wolf goes away, and so does Arsene’s consciousness.

Then he awakens again later. He is in a forest. A deep and dark forest which seems strangely familiar to him. The dire wolf is drinking in a beautiful natural source. A place that Arsene knows. A place where once stood a giant and luminous tree. A place where Missy and him laid on the deep grass for one unforgettable night.
Sniffing around, the wolf yaps in sudden excitation as he finds again the trace of the red haired beauty he is searching, just on the log she rested against for the night, not so long ago. The giant animal trots along the winding paths, rich with mossy odours and wet earth. As he arrives on a beach, he finds a campfire, near an abandoned tree house, but, as he starts to sniff around in search of Missy’s perfume, he suddenly finds another smell. Rabbit. And suddenly, his stomach kicks in, remembering him he is hungry. HUNGRY !
A dark red veil falls on Arsene’s consciousness as the wolf’s instincts suddenly take control and mute any higher motive he may have in favour of the assuaging of his most basic needs.

Later. Much later.
His consciousness awakens again.
He is on a beach. Miscellaneous rubbish washed ashore by the waves litter the soft sand. In a dumpster box, a fire is raging, illuminating the slope that leads to the hills behind. The dire wolf is standing near a circle of giant stones, their gnarled surface carved into mystic symbols, and seemingly glowing with an eerie light. They do raise memories in the remnants of the human consciousness that inhabit the wolf. He looks around and sees some shelter where Missy could have taken refuge, but he doesn’t see her. No trace of his love. No sight. No smell. Nothing…
A tear rolls slowly down the giant wolf’s muzzle, and this time it is his human mind which retreats in the warm and forgetful embrace of natural instincts, his heart swelling with a deep pain, an aching despair that he doesn’t feel strong enough to survive. He has searched everywhere he could think of, and she’s not there… She’s gone. And he cannot survive that. He cannot live through that. He just can’t.
It is a rare time when Arsene, a stubborn chess player, acknowledges defeat. And this time is one of those times… Without Missy, life is not worth living. Everything feels bland. The world has reverted to black and white. Nothing matters anymore.
As a sailor lost at sea which finally gives up the fight and stops swimming to let himself drown into the deadly darkness of the ocean, so does Arsene’s mind abandon grip onto what consciousness he had, and curls up in a metaphoric foetal shape, deeply hidden in the giant wolf’s small mind, in a place he cannot feel pain because he cannot exist.




The dire wolf enters the house. A house with an half opened door and the heavy scent of a lycan assembly left to soak the tattered rugs and distressed sofas set in front of the hearth.
On the threshold of the house, he shakes off violently the snow that clings to his fur, then he pushes the door open with his muzzle and comes in.
He turns in a short circle a couple of time on the rug set in front of the chimney and then he lays down, his back warmed by the welcoming wood fire, and his eyes slowly getting lost in the contemplation of the snow outside.

The giant wolf’s blue eyes slowly close as the mesmerizing patterns of the snowflakes falling soothe the killing pain he harbours in his aching heart without understanding it in his animal’s mind.
Laid down on the rug, the huge animal breathes slowly, his eyes lost on the smoothed out scenery. His mind blanketed by snow.
Snow. The ultimate eraser.
11/24/09 18:45
arsene_Braveheart< Message removed : wrong thread. >
11/25/09 09:53
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