(Requiem) The beginning of the end.

[akonken.livejournal.com]

She was rushing now, running later than she meant to be, the adrenaline pushing his vitae through her veins. She felt ashamed, a feeling that she couldn't remember feeling before. She didn't know what she was doing, and she didn't like that feeling.

What was she doing?

Markus gave her blood whenever she wanted. She was devoted to him. She was.

So why did she do this? Why did she let these other Kindred feed her too? Why did she encourage them to do so?

Each of them had a different reason, a different expression.

She thought of Iva, full of mischief and surprisingly sensuous.

She thought of Ruth, fond and generous.

She thought of Io, triumphant and then, when she least expected it, terrifyingly tender.

Water dripped from her hair as she sped up, making her shiver. She needed to stop. She needed to stop. She was out of control, and that wouldn't do at all.

She was frightened. Tonight had frightened her, shaken her to the core.

Tomorrow she would go to the clinic. She would go and accept treatment, and she would get better. She would devote her life to Markus. She loved Markus. She wouldn't hurt him any more.

Charlotte made up her mind then and there - unaware it would lead, in a few weeks' time, to her death.

(Lost) Alternate reality - a surprise.

[akonken.livejournal.com]

This is supposed to be impossible.

It's not even about the purported magical barrenness; I have heard the words "Hedge herpes" used seriously. I don't want to find out what that's like firsthand. I'm not picky about who I sleep with (well...I pretend not to be, and when you pretend not to be, you have to have some unwise sex), but I don't want any leftovers, do I?

So I glare at my doctor. "I am not pregnant."

He just points at the test results.

I grit my teeth, put my clothes on, and leave. I would do my own test, thank you. A dozen of them if I need to. This is impossible, and I intend to prove it.

...

...A dozen pregnancy tests later, I'm beginning to panic.

I cannot have another child. Not now. I've an invasion looming in which I'm fated to die. I've a boyfriend I'm terribly fond of. I have a job I love. I have...Hell, I have everything to lose. How did it come to this?

I blame Red. If it weren't for Red, my heart could have stayed shut and safely out of reach.

Now I find myself considering just going with it. Seeing what happens. Making another family.

Because that worked so well last time.

[Created] [Rocker] Seeking

[yoda-ic.livejournal.com]

Seeking.

It made him angry. The choler rose within him, part of him, enflaming his rage. The change in humors brought back memories of Winters - Winters made him like this; it was his fault he felt such rage, such agony.

The girl - she looked like Brae a bit - was knocked to the ground. Her friend - almost like Capricorn to his eyes - backed away slowly.

Rocker breathed deeply of the petrol fumes - the smell made him feel at home almost; he'd grown used to the smells of the open road. It was comforting, it felt right. He was travelling, always moving - such scents were a constant in his life.

The bullys - teenage thugs - disregarded him with a sneer. They didn't see a threat in his wiry frame - the clothes he wore put him beneath their notice except as an object of scorn. They'd come for him next, but they were busy now. Disquiet hadn't taken them yet.

Brae would want him to help. But Capricorn wouldn't want him to hurt them. She'd hated him for killing Winters, for finding an end to that pain. But she wasn't here - she didn't want to be his friend any more.

He ripped the hose from the petrol pump, letting the fuel spill out onto the floor. Tossing the leaking hose at the boys, he shrugged off his coat, letting it fall across Elaine's seat. Unholy strength pumped through his arms, but his was his sparking hands that drew their attention. Saturnine sparks surrounded his hands, arcing up his arms. The acrid smell of ozone surrounding him.

They blinked, unbelieving, and charged him, hating him, wanting to kill him, Disquiet in full force. He discharged the Torment-charged lightning gathering round his fists into them, the overwhelming charge stunning them, knocking them senseless to the petrol-soaked forecourt.

Stray sparks crackle round them, the ghost of his lightning - a brief pause before the air swells and the forecourt is ablaze, the leaking pump releasing more fuel for the fire. The girls run, frantic, and panicked staff yell for the pump to be switched off.

Rocker swings his leg over the bike again, Elaine's tyres screeching away from the flaming statio, as scared of the flames as those girls.

He doesn't look behind him, the orange glow highlighting his silhouette. He's returned to the road, seeking his place, his role, a harmony with the world.