Cal

Stats, permission, etc.

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 21:34:46 GMT

Name: Calanthe (Cal for short)
Age: 21
Hair: Very light blond/yellow
Eyes: Violet ('stormy' violet, no less)
Height: 6 foot something; he's described as being notably tall, and Wraeththu probably ain't short.
Weight: Slim

Medical Info: As a Wraeththu, has pretty much the perfect body. Excellent metabolism, digestion, immune system. Wraeththu do require regular aruna (magical sex) to be healthy, but aside from this, they never get ill, and they recover from injuries fairly quickly, depending on the injury. I am not sure how I ended up resolving the 'needs to have aruna' issue; I assume camp would take care of it most of the time, but that the Wraeththu end up getting really itchy for it about once a month or so. Insert PMS jokes.

Physical Traits: Cal is famous for his good looks (and his terrible attitude, but that's another post). He's tall, blond, and tanned, the spring break ideal. Has distinctive knife wound scars on his upper arms, as well as various other scars on other parts of his body.

What's OK to mention: Anything! Go for it.

Notes for the Psychics: All Wraeththu have psychic abilities; some have more natural ability and some develop them more than others. Cal is more of the former and definitely very little of the latter. Wraeththu have a vague sort of telekinesis, better-defined telepathy, and various magical skills for protection, etc. Cal is more skilled at telepathy than anything; he can lie very well telepathically, and you probably won't get inside of his head unless he wants you to. He has great mental shields.

Abilities: Again, mild telepathy and various forms of magic, but Cal doesn't really bother. Wraeththu are faster, more agile, and stronger than humans, and Cal in particular can take care of himself in a street fight. (Although he prefers to just shoot people in the head.)

Anything you think you need permission for, you probably don't. Email me if you want to work out details, but I'm open to basically anything and everything.

Sat, 17 May 2008 06:48:48 GMT

So it's been a while since Cal has been in camp! It will probably take a while for me to get back into his groove and pick up his voice again; so, in the meantime, this is a general crit post for him. Is the voice off? Am I having him do something that is completely OOC (making daisy chains, baking cakes, being nice, etc.)? Is it just not fucking funny anymore? Tell me, I would love to know if something is off!

Also: I was always a little worried when I had him here the first time that I was freaking people out. XD So this is a blanket post for TELLING ME IF I AM FREAKING YOU OUT WITH CAL. You can punch me over the Internet. I really don't mind. Give it to me!

Sun, 01 Apr 2007 22:12:52 GMT

View Poll: #958338

Relationship meme II

Mon, 05 Feb 2007 21:10:55 GMT

Relationship meme! Because the last one is like a year old, thus woefully out of date. Also I have to watch Jane Eyre and write a paper on it by tonight, so yeah, distract me while I watch Jane Eyre, please.

It doesn't even have to be a relationship question, really! You can ask me anything. Does Cal like toe socks? No. No he does not. He thinks you humans and your silly toe socks suck. I know you wanted to know that.

PS: Guys, I love you, but I don't know all the characters y'all play. YOU'RE CRAZY. XD

Drabble days

Sat, 16 Sep 2006 23:10:25 GMT

D-d-d-draaaaabble meme! Give me a prompt of some kind or just comment and I'll hammer out whatever I feel like. See? I'm easy. I reserve the right to 1) ask for another prompt if I don't feel comfy with it; 2) turn the drabble into a fic s-sorry I do this a lot, or 3) leave deep and lasting scars on your psyche.

If those terms are acceptable to you, then COMMENT.

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 15:41:25 GMT

Okay, because I liked this meme and it's kind of going around again: this is the one where you tell me what you think of Cal, based on how I play him. Flaming drag queen? Future evil overlord? Will end up dead in a ditch in two years? ANYTHING GOES.

....baaa.

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 15:38:40 GMT

Comment here to see how Cal thinks you would fit into his world. (Most of you will probably end up incepted or dead. HA!)

Wraiths of Will and Pleasure

Mon, 14 Aug 2006 23:14:12 GMT

Excerpt from The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure. I would imagine this takes place sometime after the events in this excerpt, in which Seel is a stone-hearted bastard.

Flick put his arms around him, and was aware at once of the sizzling energy coursing through the Tigron's body. He wasn't trembling on the surface, but inside he was shaking like a leaf. After a few moments, he pulled away from Flick's embrace and began to pace. "Cal is in Immanion," he said.

"You've seen him?"

"Yes. If you can call it that."

"Sit down, Pell. Explain." Flick sat against the rock face, but Pellaz wouldn't stop pacing.

"I knew Thiede had Cal. Everyone knows it. He's being punished for what he did to Orien. I thought...." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter what I thought because it's just a fantasy. I believed Thiede was holding Cal in his ice palace - the place where he brought me back. It's a long way in the north, and securely guarded. But Rue...." He grimaced. "This is the worst thing: Thiede told Rue he had confined Cal in a tower in the hills outside Immanion. I know that place. I've ridden past it a hundred times. It has no door. It's just empty, a skeleton, a prison. Thiede told Rue. Can you believe that? And Rue has used this information like a knife. I've been stabbed so many times, I'm dead. Again."

"Thiede must want you to know," Flick said carefully. "That's why he told Rue."

Pellaz didn't appear to hear these words. "I had to see for myself. You do understand that, don't you?"

Flick nodded. There was no need to say anything.

"I am Tigron. I go where I please. There must be a door. It's hidden, that's all. I can find it. I can open it through my will." He plunged his hands into his hair, pulled at it fiercely. "Of course I can. It's all just an illusion. And there it is, locked of course, but I hold that in contempt. So easy. I should smite Rue with that force, watch him bubble and burn. I could do it."

He put his hands over his mouth, pacing, pacing.

"Pell," Flick began, but Pellaz was already speaking again.

"He was... top room. Not tied up or anything. His eyes... he wasn't there. It was just a body. Like I'd been, maybe, when I came back to this world. Thiede had done something to him." He stopped pacing.

Flick stood up. "What did you do?"

Pellaz uttered a caw of choked laughter. "What did I do?"

"Yes."

"Tried to bring him back. I shouldn't have."

"No! You didn't...."

Pellaz wheeled around to face Flick. "What would you have done? He is me. But I hate myself, apparently. What's left of him doesn't want me, Flick. It's over. I betrayed him."

"No," Flick said again, in a more assertive tone. "You didn't. Did he even recognize you?"

"He said I was dead. He knows that's not true, but he said it all the same."

"If Thiede drugged him, he probably wasn't in his right mind. The last time I saw him he was consumed by his memories of you. He probably didn't dare believe you could be real."

"He knew," Pellaz said flatly. "He knows about Rue."

"Oh. Didn't you explain?"

"I tried, but he wasn't listening. I just wanted to hold him, to bring him back, for us to remember...." He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

There was a silence, then Flick said, "Pell, did you... did you take aruna with him?"

"It wasn't that," Pellaz said sharply. "I can't call it that. What I did was violation and yes, it brought him back a little. For all the good it did. He was insane, furious. I could have been the next Orien."

"Oh sweet Aru..." Flick breathed. He wanted to take Pellaz in his arms again, but that moment was past.

Pellaz stood with his back to Flick; his shoulders slumped. When he spoke, he sounded like the young har Flick had known in Saltrock. "How do I be good, Flick? How do I put this behind me and be the Tigron everyone wants me to be? When will his ghost stop tormenting and torturing me? How could Thiede let me find that place and enter it? He knew what would happen."

"It's Thiede you should be mad at, not yourself," Flick said. "Pell, it's wrong. Thiede is playing with you all. What's his motive?"

Pellaz shook his head and said nothing. His hair hid his face.

...."You're in danger of becoming as insane as Cal is," Flick said. "Give in to it, Pell. Become your pain. Be like him. End up in a gutter and Rue can dance on your bones. It'd be easy. Trust me."

Pellaz stared at him for long seconds. "Make it go away," he said at last.

"Only you can do that," Flick said. "Pell, things have got to change. Everything is stale and stagnant and - well, just bad. Cal is very sick. I think he always has been. He is obsessed with you, and it's obvious he can never be part of your life again. You must let it go. It's for the best that Thiede has him locked up. You did need to see him for yourself. Much as I hate to say it, Thiede did the right thing in engineering that. Now, you have seen, and you must put it behind you."

"He is my life."

"He's an insane murderer!" Flick said, more harshly than he intended. "I'm sorry. That's not exactly how I feel about it. I can't hate Cal, because he's so ill, but neither can I forget the day that Orien died. I can still smell the blood, Pell, if I think hard enough about it."

"You don't know him like I do," Pellaz said, clearly avoiding further discussion about that incident. "He can be healed. I know it. Part of the reason he's so sick is because of what happened to me. How can I blame him for hating me? He went mad for nothing."

Flick paused. "I know," he said. "Don't think I haven't considered that myself. Of course, you also have to wonder whether he's always been that way. His life with you was just a respite. There's no point dwelling on it. Now is the time for change."

---

"Pell, can you take me away?"

He sighed. "No. You know that I can't."

"Why?"

"Opalexian would not want me to."

"You are Tigron. How can her feelings matter that much? You could take me anywhere. You must know other hara somewhere I could live with. Somewhere far away."

"I can't upset her," Pellaz said. "She has me in a fierce hold."

"How?" Lileem turned her head to look at him. "You made a deal with her, I know. What was it? I won't breathe a word, I promise. I'm just a ghost."

"Opalexian believes she can exorcise ghosts," Pellaz said. He picked up a stone from the gravel path and threw it onto the lawn. "She will do something for me that Thiede would not."

"What?"

Pellaz lowered his eyes, stared at the ground. "She will heal Cal."

"I thought he was healed," Lileem said. "Flick told me the whole story, and that Thiede had let him go. Flick said it was all over."

Pellaz glanced at her. "He has been released, but he is still very sick."

"How do you know?"

"I asked Opalexian to find out, when I first met her. He still suffers, as Thiede wants him to. He needs to be healed of all that's been done to him, by Thiede and even by those who came before. By the Uigenna, by human parents, everyone."

"So you can be together again?"

"I don't know," Pellaz said. "Opalexian says she will try. I don't know her plans exactly. All I know is that I have to keep silent and hope and dream. I have to trust that, one day, Cal and I will both know the truth about one another, because there are so many lies, so many barriers. I have to hope that we can meet in a place out of time and remember all that we were. I will never forget him, and I know that he'll not forget me either. If anyone can draw the poison, I believe that Opalexian can. I have to trust her. I have to give her what she wants, because this is the only thing that matters to me."

"I hope it works," Lileem said. "I really do."

...She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Beautiful Pellaz. Kind Tigron. How tragic that he should be so sad inside.

SO YES, basically, if anyone was reading the end of Enchantments and being completely bowled-over by the introduction of the Kamagrian and why Pellaz didn't know about them: he actually did, he just struck a deal with Opalexian, promising he wouldn't reveal the Kamagrian's existence to the general Wraeththu public. In return, Opalexian orchestrated the events of Enchantments and brought Cal and Pell back together. Opalexian = my girl.

Essays and icons.

Thu, 03 Aug 2006 18:03:54 GMT

Essay meme! Ask me to essay on something - the incoming Pellaz, Swift, Rue, any other people, the weather, what Cal thinks about Tuesday's mystery meat - and I'll talk it up for you.

ALSO because Pell made me think about it I will go ahead and essay on icons. It is almost impossible to consistently find androgynous people, and honestly, it's become too much work. >D I use women for Cal's icons because 1) in my eyes Cal is a very feminine character, and 2) a lot of the words that come out of his mouth are cruel, aggressive, and overall masculine, so I find it an interesting dichotomy to have a female face saying them.

As for the women I do use, it's all about personality. Quirky eyebrow lifts, smirks, mean smiles, condescending looks, seductiveness - it's a feel I'm going for rather than an overall look. My favorite model for Cal is Kelly Carlson because she's just got Cal's personality to a tee (her 'condescending smile' look is by far my most-used icon XD) and because, while she's undeniably beautiful, it's a kind of rough around the edges beauty and not at all airbrushed.

Sooo yes, that's why I use the icons I do. Do I picture Cal looking that girly? Nah. Do I picture him smirking like that? Hell, yeah.

RikuKazaCal!

Wed, 19 Jul 2006 05:07:51 GMT

It'd been over a hundred and ten degrees for three days in a row and the weather forecast promised storms, which meant that today had been steamy and moist from the get-go. Take a walk through camp and you'd find at least three people in the nearest shade they'd been able to find, sprawled bonelessly and moaning that they'd die if they had to take another step. More than a few brave souls had made the trek to the pool only to find that the sun had heated up the water; a few of the stupid ones had accidentally gone to the onsen and came out looking like lobsters.

Cal was used to the heat, but this level of humidity was new. He'd stripped down to his pants by breakfast and at lunch decided the only thing to do was lie on his bed and stew. When he thought his blood was close to the boiling point, he pulled out his notebook and used it as a fan, but even that just made it worse.

"It's really fucking hot," he said.

Kazahaya punched his shoulder. "Shut up! I'm trying to sleep!"

"I'm not going to let you sleep," Cal snapped. "You barged in on me, now you pay the price."

Kazahaya growled out something that sounded suspiciously like 'fuck you' and put his pillow over his head.

Cal sighed and fanned himself with the notebook, washing heated hair over his face. "And," he said, "you're not exactly helping. Two bodies in close proximity generate more heat than one, which is helpful in a hypothermia situation but not when it's a hundred and - " He glanced at his laptop. "A hundred and nine degrees outside. Did you put on deodorant this morning, Kazahaya?"

"I sweated it all off! Shut up!"

"Go buy one of those little travel ones from Ari, then."

Kazahaya looked dangerously close to committing homicide - or to stuffing the pillow down Cal's throat - so Cal cut his losses and shut up.

He woke up later with a start, tense, listening for what had startled him awake. His knife had been pushed all the way down to the bottom of the bed when Kazahaya had stolen his pillow, so he shifted his foot until he felt the familiar metal and curled his toes around it, pulling it up and into his hand.

A crack of thunder made him jump, and Cal rolled his eyes. Stupid. The storm had woken him up, not someone creeping into his cabin to strangle him with his own blanket. Beside him, Kazahaya was fast asleep, snoring. Cal nudged him out of the way to crawl over to the window and pull back the ratty drape. It was drizzling outside, the sky gone completely gray and dotted with patches of billowing gray and yellow clouds. He checked his laptop again. Eighty degrees. Not bad.

Someone banged on the door and he started again, palming his knife - just in case - before getting out of bed. "Hold on, hold on," he called, touching his toes briefly to get out the sleeping knots before going over to unlatch the door and pull it open.

"Hey Cal. I was just looking for - oh," Rikuou said, poking his head into the cabin. "Well, I guess I found him."

Rikuou had a wonderfully expressive face. Cal watched it go from worried to knowing to - was that - oh yes, just the slightest hint of disappointment before it settled into its familiar smirk. "Mind if I come in?" he asked, indicating his soaked clothes. "It's starting to really come down out there."

"Please," said Cal, pleased with himself when he managed not to sound too predatory. He opened the door wider.

"Thanks." Rikuou stepped inside, almost cautiously, and spent a couple of seconds wringing out his shirt. He nodded at Cal. "I like the shirtless look, by the way."

"Why, thank you, my dear." Cal tapped his mouth. "I'm flattered you even noticed," he said with a wink, "considering you're finding it hard to take your eyes off Sleeping Beauty there."

Rikuou rolled his eyes. "Did I say 'thanks'? I take that back."

Cal pantomimed taking an arrow to the heart, laughing as Rikuou brushed past him and sat on the bed opposite from where Kazahaya was sleeping. Took off his shoes, wrung out his shirt a little more - in general, tried very hard to act like he wasn't staring.

Cal smiled to himself and sat in the cabin's rickety old chairs, the one that seemed to have a fresh layer of cobwebs every morning no matter how clean you kept the damn thing. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and drew one out, lit it, took a long, refreshing drag. Rikuou really was handsome. Tall for his age - although Cal still had a good few inches on him - good bones, nice skin, and - well, he'd always had a weakness for dark hair.

Really, though, for all that he tried to act cynical, he was just *sweet.* Cal couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not. He did know it would end up getting the kid hurt. Maybe that was part of the attraction.

"I can't believe he's sleeping through this storm," Rikuou said.

"Kazahaya doesn't strike me as a light sleeper." Cal tilted his head. "Did it wake you up?"

"Well, it is pretty loud, Cal."

"Scared, Rikuou? Don't worry. I'll keep the storm monsters from getting you."

Rikuou's lip twitched. "I feel so safe now."

"You should." Cal smiled and ashed his cigarette onto the floor. "I control the weather, you know. This heat wave? Completely my fault. I just wanted to see everyone get naked."

"Couldn't wait for mandatory nudity day, huh?"

A crack of thunder rattled the cabin, which caused two things to happen: Cal dropped his cigarette and Kazahaya woke up. He was busy trying to wipe burning ash off his pants when he heard Kazahaya start yelling at Rikuou; he didn't pay attention to the precise words, but there was a 'jerk' in there somewhere, a few 'what the hells,' and then Cal heard Rikuou say defensively that he had as much a right to be in Cal's cabin as anyone did. Kazahaya sputtered.

"Ladies, ladies," Cal said loudly over their arguing. Shit. He'd burnt the chair. "Don't fight, please. There's enough of me to go around."

Rikuou stood, muttering under his breath about leaving. Over Kazahaya's angry "Maybe you should!" Cal reached out and grabbed Rikuou's wrist, exerting the tiniest bit of pressure to stop in his steps.

Rikuou looked down at him. Lightning filled the window behind them, coloring Rikuou's face in shades of white and black. Thunder rumbled lowly in the background. "I should go," Rikuou said after a pause, trying to pull his hand away.

Cal shook his head. "No, you shouldn't," he said. He ran his hand down Rikuou's wrist until their fingers were touching, squeezed gently. Rikuou hesitated but didn't try to pull away. Cal pulled out the big guns: he smiled.

Kazahaya picked this moment, of course, to storm over and stand next to Rikuou, arms folded. He scowled down at Cal, looking like a disapproving father. Kazahaya looked like this most of the time, though, and Cal wasn't fazed; Rikuou was still skittish, but Cal had won Kazahaya over a long time ago. He just occasionally had to be reminded of the fact. Cal turned the smile on him and Kazahaya, predictably, folded like a stack of cards.

"Cal," he said meekly, "what are you doing?"

"Hush," Cal said. He reached out and took Kazahaya's hand. Kazahaya swallowed audibly as Cal laid his cheek against Kazahaya's palm. "I'm doing something," he murmured, pressing his lips to it, "that will be very good for the both of you. And besides. You'll like it and it'll be fun."

Rikuou tried to pull away again at that. Cal squeezed his hand, none too gently, and glanced up at him. He was pleased to see that Rikuou didn't look angry, just indecisive. How did you react when something you'd wanted for so long was right in front of you for the taking? Did you take it?

"Cal," he said, and stopped.

Cal lifted his eyebrows. "Yes? Were you going to say something, Rikuou?"

Rikuou almost folded, but at the last minute gathered his nerve again. He glanced at Kazahaya. "Are you sure we should - " He stopped again and fidgeted. "I mean." His voice dropped. "Do this?"

Here it was. The turning point. You had the right hand; now all you had to do to win was play it right. Cal curved his lips and lowered his voice. "Bed," he said, tilting his head at it.

Rikuou and Kazahaya glanced at each other.

"Whoever gets there first gets a cookie," Cal said, deadpan.

They looked at him.

"Oh, for Christ's sake." He stood up and walked to the bed himself, pulled back the cover, sat down and crossed his legs. Rikuou and Kazahaya were still standing across the way, looking at anything but each other or at Cal; Kazahaya was blushing, Rikuou glaring at the floor. Cal pulled out his final weapon.

"Kazahaya," he said, "please."

Kazahaya moved forward then, and Cal knew it would all fall into place; Rikuou would follow, *was* following, and Kazahaya was kneeling on the bed next to him, worrying his bottom lip and still blushing, and Rikuou was sitting on Cal's other side and trying desperately to look like he knew what he was doing. Cal thought about telling him that really, *he* didn't even know what he was doing. But that would ruin the image, the magic, the intrigue. And that was everything.

He leaned forward and put an arm around Kazahaya's shoulders, pulled him in until they were flush together, chests and arms and skin touching. He kissed Kazahaya, just once, barely, a soft graze against the lips - not even a real kiss, but when he pulled away Kazahaya was already breathing hard. Cal smiled and stroked his cheek. "Did you like that?" he said, and when Kazahaya nodded he leaned in again and kissed him deeply.

He pulled away when he heard Rikuou shifting behind them and half-turned to look at him. He debated saying something, but there was quiet in the cabin, total silence except for the sound of the rain, and he settled for lifting an eyebrow and crooking a finger at him.

Rikuou broke the quiet at that. "Isn't that a little bit corny?" he muttered.

"Fuck you," Cal said cheerfully. He reached out, grabbed Rikuou by his collar, pulled him into a kiss. He'd never kissed Rikuou before. It was very different from kissing Kazahaya, not unexpectedly; Rikuou was harder, his lips thinner, and he bit Cal's tongue a little by accident but that was fine. Rikuou got into the swing of things quickly, anyway. He was good. And such a *male,* really, because just a few seconds after he'd really gotten into the kiss he was wrapping his arms around Cal and shifting until he was guiding the kiss, setting the flow and the pace. Cal chuckled into his mouth and Rikuou pulled back.

"What?" he said, sounding defensive.

"Nothing, my dear, nothing at all. I just like it when a nice big man takes control of things." Cal winked, and Rikuou rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, if you don't like it - "

Cal pulled him back into the kiss. This time, though, he wrapped his arms around Rikuou's shoulders, along with a leg, and pressed gently until Rikuou got the clue and leaned forward, so that the back of Cal's head pressed into Kazahaya's lap. He looked up into Kazahaya's face and grinned.

"Don't give me that look, Cal!" But Kazahaya was still flushed and his breath was coming even harder now, and he couldn't hide that.

"Don't be like that," Cal coaxed, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Kiss Rikuou for me."

"Yeah," Rikuou said. "Kiss me, Kazahaya. For Cal's sake."

"Shut up, jerk!"

"Kazahaya." Cal stroked Kazahaya's skin, gave a light stroke with his nails, and smiled as gently as he knew how. He lifted himself up, and Kazahaya hesitated, then bent down to meet him halfway, pressing his lips to Cal's. Cal slid his hand down Kazahaya's cheek to his neck, then to a collarbone, stroking the fine, broad angle of it, and finally to Kazahaya's hand. He wrapped his fingers around Kazahaya's and squeezed.

Then Rikuou put his hand on top of theirs. It was brave of him, and at first Kazahaya tensed, looking upset and embarrassed, but Rikuou just held it there, not moving, not speaking. Cal stroked Kazahaya's fingers and kept his mouth shut.

"You're a jerk," Kazahaya finally said.

"Yeah, I know." Rikuou hesitated. "But you like it."

"I don't - " Kazahaya broke off, looking away to scowl at the mattress. "Jerk," he muttered.

"But you like it," Cal said against his throat.

Rikuou was settled between Cal's hips; he hadn't seemed to realize that was where he was, but he noticed all of a sudden when he slid forward and Cal drew his breath in sharply. "Oh. Sorry. Uh - "

Cal let his head fall backward into Kazahaya's lap again. "Nothing to be sorry for." He shut his eyes, waved his hand vaguely in their direction. "Carry on. Don't mind me. I don't care, as long as you do that again."

"That?" Rikuou narrowed his eyes.

"That."

"You mean this?" He rolled his hips just the slightest bit.

Cal exhaled. "That."

"I can do that," Rikuou said, and leaned forward to kiss Kazahaya.

Cal opened his eyes to watch them. Kazahaya started away at first, fists clenching in the mattress - but then Rikuou touched his face, and Kazahaya shifted by accident and ended up pressing into the kiss. After that initial awkwardness, Cal was amused to note that they fit together as naturally as two people who'd been dancing together for years. Rikuou's hands were in Kazahaya's hair, and Kazahaya's hands were tight in Rikuou's shirt, one occasionally letting go to run hesitantly, shyly over Rikuou's shoulders and down an arm.

Rikuou had shifted upward, but one of his legs was still between Cal's. And, Cal reasoned, if no one was going to take care of him, he had to take care of himself, right? He wrapped his legs around Rikuou's, tilted his hips up and gave an exaggerated moan.

Rikuou and Kazahaya broke away to look down at him. "Cal!" Kazahaya said, scandalized. "What are you - "

Cal reached up, grasped his chin, and closed his mouth. "There we go," he said, patting Kazahaya's cheek. "It's so much better when you don't talk, don't you think?"

Rikuou snorted.

Kazahaya turned on him. "JERK! THAT WASN'T FUNNY, WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING?"

"Because it was funny."

"No it *wasn't*!"

"Kazahaya." It was an awkward angle, but Cal managed to pull at Kazahaya's arms enough to get their faces close together - and to feel Kazahaya breathing fume and dragon fire on him. He smiled sweetly. "Just shut up," he said, leaning up to graze his mouth against Kazahaya's, counting that Kazahaya would crumble. And Kazahaya did, parting his lips so that Cal's tongue could slip past them and into his mouth. He couldn't help shifting his hips again; this time Rikuou was the one who gasped. Cal lifted them again, harder, and threaded a hand into Kazahaya's hair to pull at when Rikuou canted his hips down.

"Christ," Cal gasped, pulling away from Kazahaya. He turned a mischievous smile on Rikuou and lifted a finger to trace Rikuou's lips. "And here I thought you were so virginal."

"I'm a fast learner," Rikuou said, matching his smirk.

"Apparently so. Take your pants off. You too," he said to Kazahaya.

Rikuou only hesitated for a second before beginning to unbutton his pants. He glanced at Kazahaya and muttered something that got Kazahaya growling and indignantly going to take care of his own pants. "What about you?" Rikuou asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"Hey," said Kazahaya. "Yeah! No way I'm going to be naked if you're not!"

"I don't think you're ready for it yet," said Cal, folding his arms behind his head.

"Oh, *please,*" Rikuou said, kicking off his pants.

"Underwear, too."

"No!" Kazahaya pulled his pants back on.

"For Christ's sake." Cal massaged his forehead. "Why did you think I asked you to take your pants off? So we can all admire each other in the mirror and I can tell you how beautiful your little Kazahaya is? You can't get blowjobs with your pants on, gentlemen. Well, you can," he said thoughtfully, "but it's not as comfortable."

"My Kazahaya isn't little," Kazahaya grumbled. "Shut up."

"I bet mine's bigger," said Rikuou.

"You - I - " Kazahaya flushed bright red. "One week of laundry duty says I'm you're wrong, jackass!" He shoved his pants down, underwear and all, and glared at them both, challenging them to say anything.

"Your loss," Rikuou said, shrugging, and tossed his pants away dramatically to land on top of Cal's head. Cal pulled them off and sighed, unnoticed by either Rikuou or Kazahaya, who were trying very hard to keep their eyes on each other's faces. They hadn't blinked in thirty seconds.

Kazahaya looked down first. "Fuck!"

"Told you."

"Dammit," Kazahaya said, crossing his arms.

"He's only a little bigger," Cal said.

Rikuou actually blushed. "You weren't supposed to look." He coughed and covered his mouth.

"Really?" Cal tilted his head, eyeing him, smiling inwardly when Rikuou began to squirm. "Oh, don't worry," he said charitably. "I've seen bigger, but I've seen much littler. And besides, how am I not supposed to look? I'm going to be taking care of you this evening, Rikuou."

"Wait - " Rikuou began.

Cal clapped. "Stop talking! Kiss your partner again. I like it, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Chop chop."

Watching Rikuou and Kazahaya kiss was pleasant. Cal enjoyed beauty; Rikuou and Kazahaya were a study in contrasts, dark and light, softened into one color at the edges by the stormy outside light. Rikuou moved more slowly than Cal had thought he would, while Kazahaya clenched at skin and pulled on hair, trying to make the kiss go deeper, faster. Rikuou liked to savor; Kazahaya liked to feel.

He got onto his knees and shifted on the bed until he was behind Kazahaya. Rikuou's eyes flicked over to him briefly before falling back shut, but Cal had seen him grin into the kiss. Cal lifted his hands, settled them just above Kazahaya's shoulders, not touching skin yet; he inhaled briefly, smelling soap and sweat, then leaned down to press his lips lightly on the back of Kazahaya's neck. Kazahaya tensed, gasping, but relaxed back into the kiss when Cal settled his hands on his shoulders and massaged gently, teasing the tips of his nails along Kazahaya's skin.

He kissed his way down Kazahaya's back, soaking in the smell of his skin and hair, all the smells that he'd always wanted to smell - his interest in Kazahaya had always had less than pure motives, which he admitted freely. He lingered at the small of Kazahaya's back, running his hands up and down Kazahaya's sides. Kazahaya was starting to squirm; he'd already pulled away from Rikuou's kiss to lean his head against Rikuou's shoulder, panting hard enough that Cal could hear. Cal smiled to himself and snaked one hand around to grasp Kazahaya's erection.

Kazahaya gasped and almost jerked out of his hand, but Cal squeezed, very gently, just the slightest bit of pressure, then stroked again, lightly, building a slow but steady rhythm. Kazahaya squirmed and groaned and squeezed Rikuou's back and swore, very loudly, several times. He groaned for Cal to stop twice, but tried to hit him when he did. "Faster," he gasped, arching into Cal's hand. "Faster, Cal, faster, God, stop, I mean don't stop, oh my God don't stop - "

Rikuou kissed him and that was it; Kazahaya stiffened and clawed at Rikuou's back, probably leaving marks that Rikuou would do well to keep covered in the morning. Kazahaya was practically sobbing in Rikuou's arms when Cal wiped his hand fastidiously on the mattress. He sat back and flexed his hand, watching Kazahaya come back to himself a little and Rikuou kiss him gently, smooth his hair. Their eyes met over Kazahaya's head and Cal let himself smile, slowly, deliberately. Rikuou swallowed.

Cal reached out and stroked Kazahaya's hair, then his mouth. "Lie down," he said, stealing a brief kiss.

"Okay." Kazahaya's eyes were still dazed with sex. He found the pillow, put it under his head, stretched out - then: "JERK! Who said you could sleep with me?"

"Shut up, Kazahaya," said Rikuou, who had slid one arm under Kazahaya's head and the other under his own. "And don't forget you owe me one week of - JESUS Christ Cal what are you doing."

"I should have thought that would be obvious," said Cal, stroking Rikuou's thighs. "Of course, this can count as a remedial lesson if you need it to. I know how inexperienced you are, after all."

"Shut - oh." Rikuou fell silent. His mouth opened slightly to expell a harsh breath, his hand falling to grasp at the mattress. Cal chuckled against his dick and Rikuou nearly shot off the bed, swearing harshly. "*Jesus Christ,* Cal - "

"Serves you right, asshole," Kazahaya said, turning over and ignoring them.

Rikuou's hips were starting to strain upwards. Patiently, Cal settled his hands on them and pressed down, trying to get across that that was a no-no (not that he could blame Rikuou for trying). Fortunately, he was stronger than Rikuou, and shifting so that he was on top of Rikuou's legs helped, too. Finding a rhythm was slightly harder than it had been with Kazahaya, who was easy and wanted it quick; Rikuou had put a hand on Cal's head and squeezed at it if Cal went too fast, but he dug in hard when Cal went too slow.

"Cal," Rikuou said, voice strained. He tried to press Cal's head further down. "Don't - can't you - "

Cal lifted his head briefly to say, "No, I can't," then put his mouth on Rikuou's dick again and gathered his breath to hum, ever so quietly. It was still enough to make Rikuou yell and nearly throw himself off the bed, even with Cal's hands on his hips. He was practically quivering with - desire, certainly, but he was also beginning to slap one hand on the bed, in time with Cal's rhythm, to let out his frustration. Fuck, they were both so responsive. Cal loved it. He pulled away again and breathed hotly onto Rikuou's cock, and ten seconds later Rikuou was coming. Loudly and enthusiastically. Ah, teenagers.

Five seconds after that, Kazahaya's pillow came smashing down on Rikuou's face. "Do you have to be so damn *loud*?"

Kazahaya insisted on sleeping next to Cal, and Rikuou wouldn't move, so Cal ended up sandwiched in between them - not a bad position to be in. Rikuou was pressed against him one side, and Kazahaya's head was tucked under his chin. The rain had picked up pace about an hour ago; he could hear it rattling against the door, and the cabin, hot and sticky from all the exertion, had begun cooling down.

"Truffles," Rikuou said suddenly.

Cal turned his head; Kazahaya grabbed Cal's chest to pull himself up and stare at Rikuou.

"Not everyone gets chocolates," Rikuou said, a smile playing at his mouth. "But we got truffles."

"Truffles are addictive," Cal said. "Or so I'm told. They're not exactly easy to come by, where I'm from. Someone should make that a rallying point. 'Give us truffles or give us resigned acceptance of the fact that life is shitty and will never get any better!' Personally, I'll go with the truffles."

Rikuou rolled his eyes. Kazahaya just looked at him for a moment before saying, "Cal, shut up already," and kissing him.

"But the truffles, Kazahaya," Cal protested when Kazahaya had pulled away. "I've just realized, it kind of creates a dilemma for the people who are allergic to sugar - " And this time Rikuou was telling him to shut up and kissing him, and Kazahaya threatened to kick them both off the bed if they didn't let him sleep and *crap*, his foot had just touched the wet spot, and finally - who knew how - they were all asleep.

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 03:04:17 GMT

Swift was homesick.

Not that this was anything new. On average, he spent an hour a day being homesick - and that was on average. Depending on how his week was going, he spent whole days brooding about it; some days he didn't think about home at all. When he'd first gotten into camp he'd mostly worried about how things were going in his absence. Paperwork didn't get done without a governor to do it, and tensions were still high between hara who'd supported his father and hara who had just decided that they'd go along for the ride, as long as the Gelaming didn't get too nosy.

After a while, he learned not to worry about that. The paperwork wouldn't get done and the Varrs - sorry, Parasiel - were always spoiling for a fight, no matter who governed them; worrying wouldn't change a damned thing. Nowadays he just wondered what his family were doing. Whether Cobweb had forgotten to water the plants, whether Azriel was starting to walk on his own, whether Seel had finally cracked and murdered Cobweb. He remembered how quickly his own adolescence had gone, now that he thought about it, and wondered how old Tyson would be if - *when,* Swift, when - he finally got back.

The last thing he should do when he was homesick, he'd learned, was visit Cal. But he did anyway.

Cal looked annoyed, but that wasn't anything new, either. "What do you want?" he said before Swift could even sit down, taking his pencil out of his mouth and closing his notebook.

"Can I see what you're writing?" Swift asked.

Cal smiled. He had several kinds of smiles, and each kind had its own myriad subgroups. This was Condescending Smile, subgroup I wish a comet would fall out of the sky and land on this kid and get him out of my hair. "No."

"Why not?" Swift winced. That had come out a lot whinier than he'd intended. He tried again. "You've been writing in that thing ever since I met you. Aren't you finished - whatever it is you're working on by now?"

"You can't rush genius," said Cal, tossing his head. "I'm writing the great Megalithican novel. Besides, I keep adding more sex scenes, and those take a long time to write."

"Right," said Swift, breaking out his own secret weapon: Disarming Smile, subgroup You're avoiding the subject.

Cal parried easily with Condescending Smile, subgroup You're a fucking moron. "You can't rush those, you know. Those're the parts that people skip straight to."

Swift conceded defeat. "Of course, Cal. Do you mind if I eat my lunch here?"

"It's your cabin, isn't it?"

Yes, it was. Swift had been surprised when Cal'd accepted his invitation to stay with him, but then, he didn't quite understand how Cal had survived sleeping with human women for as long as he had. He seemed to view females as a completely separate, possibly hostile species. For his part, Swift liked them because they usually reminded him of Cobweb. He sat on down on an empty bunk across from Cal and spread out his lunch, stealing looks at Cal in between bites.

Cal had opened his notebook again and was writing furiously. He filled ten pages while Swift was still working on his sandwich. He turned another page, started to write something, paused. "So what do you want?" he asked, writing something else down.

"The pleasure of your company, what else?" Swift said around a mouthful.

Cal's mouth twitched a little. "The pleasure of my company," he repeated, snapping the notebook shut. "Well, I won't deny that I have a certain perverse charm, but if you really wanted someone to have a nice, enjoyable lunch with, you would have gone to see our dear Caeru."

"Your charm isn't perverse," said Swift, guiltily.

"I enjoy hurting people and most of our conversations make you end up with a certain look on your face, the one that says I just drowned your favorite puppy in the lake and you're thinking about joining it to end your misery. Yes, Swift, my charm is perverse. I like pain. Also," Cal said, looking at him thoughtfully, "you haven't tried to touch me once. Usually you'd be piling on the bed with me and getting crumbs all over me. Feeling vulnerable today, are we?"

"I didn't want to get my crumbs on you," Swift shot back.

"Yes, because you care *so* much about not making me angry. As a matter of fact, you usually avoid me as a whole. Look, I can pretend this is an alternate universe, too."

"I was homesick." Swift stuffed the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed it slowly, past the lump in his throat, glaring at Cal.

"Well, what a surprise, the baby misses its mommy. I'd call him for you, but the reception isn't very good here." Cal put his arms behind his head, crossing his ankles.

Swift took a deep breath. "Don't you ever get homesick?" he said.

It was a misstep and he knew it; the smile that Cal gave him was pure nastiness. "Here's what you're going to do, Swift," he said, closing his eyes. "You're going to leave. And you're going to get dessert from the mess hall. And you're going to share it with Caeru, and you two will giggle and simper and get to know each other better. And then you'll be insipidly cheerful for a couple of days and you'll leave me alone."

Swift didn't move. Cal opened his eyes, widened them, lifted a hand and wiggled it in a shooing motion, then pulled the covers over his head. "Good*bye,* brat," he said, voice muffled through the fabric.

Swift sighed and stood up. He tossed the remains of his lunch into a trash bin - no sense in littering - and stood over Cal's bed. His bed, actually. It had just taken a couple of days of Cal sleeping there for it to start smelling heavily of cigarettes, and for crumbs to gather in the cracks (Cal loved eating in bed). He bent down, grabbed the covers, yanked them off Cal's head.

Cal glared at him. Swift glared back. Cal crumbled first. "If you get that dessert," he said, "I will eat it all and I won't give you any and I won't simper, either. I have a strict no-simpering policy. It's kept my life on-track."

"Great," Swift said. "Remind me to start taking lessons from you, because your life is *so* obviously on the right track."

"Ouch." Cal's eyes widened a little. "That hurt."

"No, it didn't. You don't let anything hurt you."

"It's true," Cal said. "My defenses are impenetrable. Especially here at camp, what with the no-sex rule and all - "

"Shut up, Cal."

Cal shut up and Swift got into bed with him, kicking the covers down to the far end of the bed and scooting until one of his legs was lying over Cal's. The movement had hiked up Cal's pant leg, revealing a brown ankle; Swift's skin refused to tan, even in this heat, but Cal had always been naturally tanned. When he compared their arms, the darkness of Cal's wrist made Swift's seem whiter than usual. He almost didn't recognize it as being his.

Cal had lit a cigarette, and the cabin was beginning to fill with hazy smoke. "I hate that fucking no-sex rule," he said after a while.

"Me, too." Swift took his hand. Cal opened his mouth, then swallowed whatever he'd been going to say and settled for rolling his eyes expressively. "I love you, you know," Swift said.

"Yes," Cal said. "I'm aware."

"Good. Just checking."

"It's hard to miss. You get this vapid, doe-like look in your eyes sometimes and they get really soft, like you're about to cry. God, it's embarrassing when you get like that. I always look around to see if anyone's watching."

"It's your perverse charm," Swift said dryly. "I just can't help myself."

Cal smiled and patted his cheek. "Don't be embarrassed, my dear," he said, breathing a puff of smoke onto Swift's face. "It's happened to the best of them."

"And the worst," Swift said, thinking of his father.

Cal's smile curved. He said nothing, just offered his cigarette to Swift.

Swift took it, pulled on it, closed his eyes when he realized it was damp from Cal's mouth. He heard Cal laugh softly. "I do love you, though," he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and ashing onto the floor. "Really."

"Yes, I know. Shut up now, Swift."

Swift shut up. He realized that Cal's hand was still in his and smiled slowly.

Cal and Sex essay

Sat, 03 Jun 2006 20:39:23 GMT

To start out, here's a little anecdote that might help explain Cal's current feelings towards sex! I think I once had Cal say to someone at camp that he's been with hundreds of people since Pellaz died, but this was actually a lie. He has been with exactly one person since Pell died, and that was Orien. Orien was a friend of Cal's and Pell's whom Cal blamed for Pell's death. After Pell died, he managed to make it back to the town where Orien lived, seduced Orien by pretending he needed comfort, and then killed him while he slept.

As with most people, Cal's views on sex have been shaped by a lot of things. He grew up with a lot of negativity surrounding his sexuality when he was human, since homosexuality was outlawed and homosexuals probably met with heavy punishment if they were found out. His first experience with his new Wraeththu body and sexuality was rape. His first steady partner, Zack, was.... kind of an ass. Whip and chains kind of guy, I'm guessing. Tellingly, the one person Cal loves and adores most in the world was incredibly vanilla. And now he dead from bullet in head. :(

As far as camp goes, his sexuality here is much the same as it is when he's home: it's geared towards helping him survive. Cal is a chameleon who can make himself desireable to almost any person.

Quote from book ahoy: "It was not just Cal's physical appearance that made him so attractive. [I] realized Cal's true charm was the way he could make a person feel. ....Cal could turn his attractiveness on and off at will. He could make you feel special, better than anyone else, and when you were with him, you could tell he meant it. That was powerful magic. Or it was like the camouflage that desert creatures were born with. It was Cal's method of survival."

It's not that there's any obvious threat in camp or that Cal really feels threatened by anyone, but Cal is always aware that sex has saved him in the past. People have spared his life, or protected him, because they love him or want him.

Breaking down his relationships with people he flirts with, I kind of feel that Cal's sexual attitude towards them is far different from his true feelings for them. He may flirt with them because he wants something from them, but he can also feel genuinely fond of them at the same time. See:

Kazahaya. Initially Cal was attracted to Kazahaya because of his resemblence to Pell - not any physical resemblance, but his haughtiness, his spazziness, and his sweetness. Cal switched immediately to survival mode, however, when he found out that Kazahaya can read memories. Does it really make a difference here at camp if Kazahaya has Cal's memories? No, not really, but it would have at home, and thus Cal was threatened by it and felt a need to get Kazahaya wrapped around his thumb. The more Kazahaya liked him, the less likely he would be to betray him.

Rikuou. Again, someone for whom sex and actual emotions for Cal vary greatly. Very simply, Kazahaya and Rikuou are part of a partnership, and Cal felt it was important to have both parts of that partnership on his side. As his relationship with Kazahaya has smoothed out, Cal has come to appreciate Rikuou more for his own qualities and to be quite fond of him.

Ryuuken. Ryuuken kind of pushes all of Cal's buttons. He's older, powerful, and a doctor. All of these = danger danger Will Robinson. The flirtation process with Ryuuken has been kind of a double-edged sword, though, because, as they talk more and more, Ryuuken has expressed several times that he's interested in Cal's life and opinions and would like to know more about him. Cal's thrown for a loop every time he does it.

Sanzo. Like Ryuuken, pushes a lot of buttons. Mostly, Sanzo is safe. And, unlike with Ryuuken, seems content to keep their relationship relegated to the physical realm for the most part. Sanzo also flatters Cal's ego, which he would never, ever admit to anyone.

Caeru. Flirtations with Caeru are, almost 98% of the time, designed to cause Caeru pain.

Swift. Probably the only person in camp for whom Cal's sexual and normal feelings are the same - that is, he wants to have sex with Swift because he likes him. Pretty weird.

Mostly, I think that, on the surface, a lot of Cal's personality traits may seem stereotypically masculine - aggression, cruelty, repression of deep feelings - but he's also one of the most fascinatingly feminine characters in the series. Like many women who have been abused in the past, he's learned to use his body, his charms, and his wit to his own advantage.

"Last night, after dinner, Elveny read my palm and told me seriously that I must let the woman in me bleed.

'And just what do you mean by that?' I asked her sweetly.

She had dropped my hand and was gazing up into my eyes. 'Beauty alone is not enough,' she said.

Perhaps she thought I understood her, which of course I did, but I pretended not to. I picked up a kitchen knife. 'See this?' I asked, waving it. 'This is the moon.' I cut my wrist (on the back, naturally).

Elveny pulled a face. 'Oh don't!' she said. I let the blood run down my arm, but the scratch congealed before it could drip on the table. There is probably a moral in that."

Bored, what.

Wed, 31 May 2006 18:15:25 GMT

Reversal meme is a go-go! Tell me what your characters think of Cal and I'll do the same for yours. ~~You stroke mine and I'll stroke yours!~~

Mon, 01 May 2006 04:07:51 GMT

Interview meme! Ask me anything you'd like to know about Cal's motivations, relationships, or thoughts on life, love, and the universe. The answer: sex.

Mon, 03 Apr 2006 14:14:30 GMT

For your edification, a short (hopefully) essay on Cal's relationship with Swift and his family.

Cal originally met Terzian and Cobweb, Swift's parents, when he was around eighteen or so. He and Pellaz stumbled across Cobweb in a run-down town, where he'd been left by the Varr because of an injury. Figuring Cobweb, as the consort of Terzian, would be an easy free ticket into Varr country, they trucked him along with them to Galhea, the capital of the district that Terzian governs.

To their surprise, Terzian was actually not all that grateful to have Cobweb returned to him. He was, however, extremely grateful to have a person like Cal land into his lap. As Thiede says, Terzian 'fell for Cal harder than a bird to the ground.' I mean, really, really fell for him. And proceeded to woo the fuck out of him. Cal's POV on him: 'He was. Well. You know.'

For his part, Cal enjoyed being wooed. I think some part of him genuinely liked Terzian. But he was with Pell at the time, so he chose to leave Galhea with him and - probably actually regretted it later, since it was a couple of days after they left that Pellaz was shot to death.

Meanwhile, in Galhea, things were returning to normal. Cobweb resumed his position as Terzian's consort and hostling to his only child, while said only child grew up to be about five years old, sheltered and extremely pampered by Cobweb, who absolutely adored him. Not to say that Swift's life was easy: Terzian, while undeniably an excellent father, was also a very intimidating one, whom Swift referred to as 'tiahaar' (Wraeththu term of respect) for most of his childhood. Cobweb, on the other hand, was a little bit crazy. A lot crazy, actually. Crazy mystic type. As Swift puts it, 'It's a wonder I was ever born sane.'

And then, through a series of unfortunate events, Cal returned to Galhea. Cue freakout on the part of everyone. Cobweb went insane with jealousy and worried that Terzian would kick him and Swift out, Terzian was trying to get back into Cal's pants and Cal would have none of it, and Swift was trying to figure out why he liked this guy who was taking his hostling's position so much.

Over time, things finally smoothed out. Terzian got into Cal's pants. Cal got into Swift's. Cobweb got into both Terzian and Cal's. Cal popped out Terzian's second son. Terzian went off and got captured by the Gelaming. Cal and Swift followed. Cal got put into captivity by the Gelaming. Swift got a consort and son courtesy of the Gelaming. Terzian kicked it. And life went on.

Terzian: Governor of Galhea and right-hand man to Ponclast, chief of the Varrs. Terzian is complicated. First and foremost, he's a warrior, devoted to the rise of the Varr and the downfall of inferior Wraeththu tribes and humans - but almost as importantly, he's a family man. He loves his son, is fond of Cobweb, and does everything he can to make sure they're protected. He provided everything for Swift: quality education, a safe home, puppies and cats, a companion (Ponclast's son, Gahrazel) for Swift to grow up with. The only thing he really couldn't give were obvious expressions of affection, but Swift certainly knew that Terzian loved him.

Just as important as his other identities was Terzian's love for Cal. He really, really adored Cal. Again, it shows how devoted to his family Terzian was that he didn't kick out Cobweb and Swift when Cal came along; he just made room for Cal in other ways. Just how devoted to Cal was Terzian? Cal gets mad and stabs Terzian in the hand with a fork, and Terzian is still smitten.

Cobweb: Swift's hostling and Terzian's first consort. In his youthful days, Cobweb was probably a lot like Cal, rough around the edges, devil-may-care, but he straightened out after his son was born. And after his consort started dabbling in murder and mayhem, he turned to mysticism to keep himself sane. Cobweb is, like Cal, not quite sane; he believes that trees talk, that the shapes of clouds hold messages, and that speaking someone's name can summon them. Cobweb was deeply, deeply in love with Terzian; he knew that Terzian didn't return the feeling, but he loved him despite that and stayed with Terzian even as the Gelaming took over and the Varr hierarchy collapsed.

After Terzian, Cobweb's three other main loves in life are Cal - his hated rival at first, but they ~~fucked~~ came to an understanding - his son, Swift, and Cal's son, Tyson, whom Cobweb raises in Cal's place.

Swift: Terzian's sheltered only child eventually comes to take over his father's place as leader of his tribe. Despite the Varrs changing their name to Parasiel and their culture to a more peaceful one, Swift is forever after known as Swift the Varr. Despite both of his parents being slightly more than unhinged in the head, Swift is a very peaceful, grounded, mature individual, probably due to the fact that he got so much love in his life from Terzian, Cobweb, and Cal.

Seel: Cal's best friend and Swift's consort. Cal and Seel have known each other since they were young teenagers, were lovers when they were human, and joined the Uigenna together. Seel has a lot of unresolved angst, mostly centered around the fact that the person he loves most, Cal, doesn't return (probably doesn't even know about, actually) his feelings. After Cal kills Seel's friend Orien, all of Seel's unresolved feelings towards Cal turn into obsessive hatred.

At the behest of the Gelaming, Seel moves into Cal's spot in Galhea as Swift's consort. How much Seel actually cares for Swift - whom he initially despises for falling prey to Cal - is up to the reader's discretion.

Azriel: Swift and Seel's son.

Tyson: Terzian and Cal's son. As many people in the trilogy note, Tyson is a carbon copy of Cal, only lazier, calmer, and less crazy. He's very close to Swift and Swift's hostling, Cobweb, but there's a lot of tension in the household. Mostly coming from the direction of Seel, who can't stand Cal's son, and Swift, who tries to care for both his consort and his half-brother without rocking the boat too much.

Sat, 11 Mar 2006 14:00:54 GMT

Yeah yeah, meme time again. Comment here if you'd like to do something with me, plot-wise, character-development-wise or... something else I can't think of. 'Have wild sex with you' doesn't count, I'm afraid. But you can say it anyway!

Mon, 06 Mar 2006 17:48:32 GMT

After a few days, Arahal said to Seel, "You have to decide what to do with the Uigenna." He meant Cal. "He asks for you constantly."

"He wants my mercy," Seel said.

Arahal smiled grimly. "He won't get it. Thiede says we're not allowed to kill him."

Like many others who were aware of Cal's history, Arahal thought death would be the most merciful option for him.

"Take him away from his companions," Seel said.

"Where shall we take him?"

"The old human fortress to the south. Take him there."

"You'll see him, then?"

"Give him the putiri drug. Leave six hara with him, and never let anyone remain alone with him. Do you understand?"

Arahal bowed his head.

--

Seel stood in front of Cal and stared at him. Cal's head was sunk onto his chest. His hair was filthy. His hands trembled where they lay in his lap. He was beautiful. Seel remembered their childhood, their first kiss, the smell of Cal's body. He remembered how he would have died for Cal and how he nearly did - of a broken heart. A fog of grief had spoiled the first few years of his Wraeththu life, because he'd had to face the fact that Cal did not love him in return. You stole my youth, Seel thought. You made me love you and you made me Uigenna. I gave up everything for you. Now look at you.

Two guards returned with water, which Seel directed them to throw over the prisoner. Cal came to his senses a little, cried out, and flailed his arms.

"Look at me!" Seel said.

It appeared that Cal did not recognize him, but why should he immediately? The old Seel had gone for good. What stood in front of him now was a Gelaming aristocrat, with smooth tawny hair and elegant clothing. Cal blinked a few times, grimaced then said in a small voice, "Seel?"

"That's right," Seel said. "You understand you are in Gelaming custody?"

"What are you doing here? Where am I?" Cal looked around himself, his movements sluggish.

"I represent the Hegemony of Immanion - "

Cal laughed, butted in: "You? No way!"

"And I am here to tell you you will be punished for the murder of Orien Farnell."

"Seel, this isn't real, is it.... I mean, this is a dream or something. You're back at Saltrock, sitting in your little office making plans and I'm asleep somewhere."

"No, if you remember, you were traveling with Swift the Varr and we took you captive. You have been in our camp, Imbrilim, for some days."

Cal appeared confused, but Seel noticed a certain expression of recollection steal across his face.

"Listen to me," Seel said. "I work for Thiede now, and it is his wish - our wish - that you pay for your crimes."

Cal just stared at him, stupefied. Seel could tell Cal didn't believe this was really happening. Perhaps it had been a mistake to drug him.

"You're not dreaming," Seel said. "I'll show you."

He knelt down and grabbed Cal by his hair. He poured his breath into him and showed him every detail stored in his being of the day when he had discovered Orien's body. Cal tried to pull away. He made pitiful sounds, but Seel didn't let go for a long time.

When he finally stood up again, Cal was virtually unconscious again. He moved feebly, like a newborn animal.

"So, now you appreciate this is for real," Seel said, "you can pay attention to what I'm saying."

"I believed you," Cal said weakly. "When you said you had nothing to do with Pell's death, I believed you. You said you didn't work for Thiede, and you did, all along."

"I had nothing to do with what happened to Pell. That was not a lie, not that I have to justify myself to you. Pell isn't dead, in any case."

Cal's eyes opened wider. "What?"

"Pell isn't dead, Cal. I've worked with him for some years. He is Tigron of Immanion, lord of all Wraeththu. This was the plan that Thiede had for him, from the moment of his inception. He was never meant for you."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. You saw Pell die, and he did, but Thiede brought him back. He is more beautiful now than he ever was. You should be pleased for him. He has a consort and a son. He has a wonderful life. I wonder if he even remembers your name."

Seel wasn't sure what reaction he expected to these disclosures, but Cal simply appeared to shut down, like a machine switched off. He went inside himself, perhaps. His eyes stared blankly ahead.

"You committed murder for no reason," Seel said coldly. "A magnificent har died because of you, and you are nothing. You are scum. The worst tragedy in the world is that you live while Orien does not. And the only comfort I get is from knowing that your whole being is consumed by your love for Pellaz Cevarro, and that now you know he is still alive and he does not want you. If you are wise, you will find a way to kill yourself, because Thiede will not kill you and neither will I. We will find a way to make your life as agonizing as we can. Or maybe Thiede will kill you and bring you back, again and again. He might give you release only to bring you back to bondage. Who knows? Whatever happens it won't be enough to atone for Orien's death." Seel fell silent and became aware of the guards standing behind him. He'd spoken too openly in front of them and regretted it. He should have sent them from the room.

Cal didn't speak. His face ran with tears, but his features were immobile, showing no expression. How was it possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time? Seel wanted to take Cal in his arms and he wanted to beat him until the blood ran.

"I have waited years for this moment," Seel said softly. "Now, I shall leave you and we'll not meet again. Think of me sometimes, Cal. You will have a very long time in which to do it. Think of me being with Pell, of me taking what you love, as you have done to so many others. Think of him glad that you no longer have your freedom. Think of his contempt for you. Then, think of me living in the house that was recently your home, my being erasing every atom of your presence there. Think of me with Swift, for no doubt he is one of your blind slaves too. Think of him being Gelaming, of embracing your enemies. I am going to Galhea, and you will never see it, or your friends there, again. It and everything in it will be mine."

With those words, Seel left the room and closed the door behind him. His heart was beating fast, as if he'd been running. He went slowly down the stairs and when he reached the bottom he heard one terrible, lamenting cry come from the room at the top. It was the pain of all the world.

Thu, 16 Feb 2006 04:01:38 GMT

Meme time! Especially because so few people have read Cal's series, I'm curious as to what people's impressions of him are and whether or not they square with my view of book-Cal. Feel free to criticize. Or not. Not is totally awesome, too. So - based on my CFUD playing of him, what kind of person do you think Cal is?

Sun, 01 Jan 2006 21:53:13 GMT

I've been working on the revised relationship forever, but this is much quicker! LOL ADD culture. Comment here if you want to know what Cal thinks, or doesn't think, of your character. I promise to be mean.

[Hogwarts AU pre-AU-AUing whut]

Wed, 14 Dec 2005 10:19:41 GMT

*leans on Riddle's door and knocks, annoyingly loudly* Headmaster says we're teaching a class together, Tommy Riddle. Shall we work on our lesson plan like good little Hogwarts professors?

Wed, 30 Nov 2005 22:29:49 GMT

It's warm at camp even in winter, making Cal think of a different time, different place, when he traveled in the desert and took turns riding the pony with his partner, sharing their water, sleeping together to stave off the desert's bitter night chill.

Here there's air conditioning, though, and amenities they didn't even have at Saltrock, and overall it's not such a bad place, really. Especially on nights like these, when Heather and Kabuto are off doing their dating thing and his other cabinmates are off doing - girl things, Cal doesn't make it his business to know what women do when he's not looking, and for the first time in weeks he has the cabin all to himself.

He takes out his first cigarette of the evening and leans against his headboard, closing his eyes as he lights and inhales. His journals are resting against his leg; he prefers to write in them when he's alone, and he hasn't been alone very often lately. They've gone sadly neglected. Not that there's much to write in them, these days - 'Day 50,975 (or so it feels). Haven't escaped yet. Attacked by zombies on way to shower. Stabbed a gorilla on the way to lunch. Everyone is annoying.'

But another day in camp is another day he isn't back home, and Cal's beginning to consider that a blessing of sorts.

He moves one arm lazily to grab a notebook, then nearly drops his cigarette into his lap when there's a knock on the door. Cal bangs his head against the headboard. It's probably Anne, because it's Monday and Wesley has changed into, heh, a were-rabbit. Or maybe Kazahaya; he and Rikuou are fighting again and Kazahaya's been sulking for the better part of two days. Very passive-aggressive of him, Cal hates it when he gets like that.

"It's unlocked," he says, and Riddle walks in, which Cal was not expecting at all. For one, at this time of night, he usually expects that Riddle's with Edward; for another, Riddle has never visited his cabin. Ever. Cal would be insulted, but he figures that Riddle probably likes most women as little as Cal does and - hey, he's rambling to himself.

"All by your lonesome, I see, Calanthe," Riddle says, and Christ, sometimes Cal really wants to wipe that smug little smirk off his face. Riddle walks further into the cabin, surveying it with his snakey silky glance, then leans on the wall and settles his gaze on Cal. "Are we lonely yet?"

"I was enjoying it, actually." Cal shoves his notebooks under his blanket with a finger. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit, my dear?"

Riddle smiles thinly. "Whimsy."

"*Whimsy,*" Cal repeats. "Oh, of course. - Sit your whimsy down then, won't you? You're making me nervous."

Riddle's smile widens slightly before disappearing, and he sits down on the bed, taking one last drag off his cigarette before leaning over to put it out. Cal props his feet against Riddle's thighs and they sit in silence for a while, not uncomfortable, just - calm.

"How is Edward?" Cal says, lighting another cigarette right after he puts another one.

Riddle's eyes slide over to him. "Fine, as always."

Cal nods, tilting his head. Riddle doesn't look too tense - he and Edward are probably getting along fine. They seem to be doing better, gliding along in this undefined relationship they've built for themselves: no names, no definitions, just rules, spoken and not. Cal gets that. The only relationship he ever tried to put a name to ended very badly.

He taps his cigarette. "You seen Kazahaya lately?"

"Yessssss," Riddle says, licking his lips slightly.

Cal lifts his eyebrows.

Riddle's lips curves and he says, "What are you going to do about that partner of his?"

"What am I going to do? Nothing." Cal lifts his cigarette to his lips and takes a thoughtful drag. "Rikuou doesn't like me. He's made that abundantly clear. Besides, it's none of my business."

Riddle opens his mouth to say something, then pauses, shrugs, and leans over to steal his cigarette. "It's not my concern, either."

"Then don't ask," Cal says irritably.

"But you know how much I love to annoy you, darling."

"Yes, you're sweet like that." Cal looks at his feet pressed against Riddle's thighs and thinks that he needs a pedicure soon. Last time he painted his toenails, hell, even his nails was months ago, way at the start of camp; he's surprised it's lasted this long, but the paint is fraying and chipping.

"You think the most insipid thoughts sometimes."

"Stay out of my head," Cal says, nudging him with a foot.

"I don't need to." Riddle looks pointedly at the offending foot. "It was obvious from the vapid look on your face."

"Well, I am blond." Cal grins.

Riddle just snorts and shakes his head - ahhh, a difficult audience tonight. Cal watches him as he lights yet another cigarette and brings it to his mouth, dragging the smoke into his lungs and breathing it out, a thin gray river of smoke streaming past his parted lips. Riddle senses his gaze, says, "Looking at something in particular, Calanthe?"

"Only what I always look at, my dear."

Another exhale, and the stream of smoke fans out near the ceiling, dissipating into the air. "And what is that, pray tell?" Riddle asks, lips curving.

"At that." Cal points towards the door. "The lightbulbs are going out, see? I swear, I just replaced them last fucking week. That's camp for you."

Riddle shakes his head, rolls his eyes and blows a cloud of smoke at Cal. "Indeed," he says. "That's camp for you."

"And," Cal covers his smile, "maybe I was looking at your mouth, too."

For a second Riddle looks startled, and Cal thinks smugly that he's won this round. Then Riddle taps his cigarette, seems to think for a long moment, and finally says, "Your nail polish is chipping."

"Ass," Cal says.

There's another silence. Cal leans his head against the bed and closes his eyes, letting the day's weariness seep into his bones - shit, sometimes he thinks this place tires him out more than being a Uigenna and killing people every day used to. That was tiring stuff. There should have been mandatory nap times for Uigenna warriors -

- and he becomes aware of a weight on his chest: Riddle's hand, balancing Riddle as he leans over into Cal's face. Cal blinks and shifts, trying to overbalance him, but Riddle just shifts with him. "What are you doing?" he asks, wary.

"Looking at you," Riddle says, as if it's perfectly natural, as if he doesn't usually hate to be touched or touch. "Aren't Wraeththu supposed to have perfect immune systems? You seem pale."

"It's the light," Cal snaps, nodding at the fizzing lightbulbs over the door. "Bad lighting is so unfavorable to my complexion, you know?"

"Heeeeh." Riddle draws out the chuckle till it sounds almost threatening. "What is it you're always telling me?" He leans in closer. "Ah, yes. You're so full of shit, Calanthe."

"That almost sounds like an excuse to me, my dear."

"Excuse for what? Getting close to you?" Riddle rolls his eyes. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you're a bit of a slut, *darling.* *Everyone* can get close to you."

Cal narrows his eyes. "Oh, you know me. I'm just a big teddy bear."

"Interesting. I can't say I've ever seen a teddy bear try to get into somebody's pants."

"Maybe not into *yours,*" Cal says demurely.

Riddle shakes his head, puts his hand over his face, laughs. "You disturb me sometimes, Cal."

"I blame it on my childhood."

"Mmmm." Riddle touches his mouth, and Cal freezes. "Funny," Riddle says in a low voice, "I look at you sometimes and see what Pellaz saw. And sometimes I see what you saw." He shakes his head. "What bullshit did you tell him? How your kiss was a sacred gift?" He laughs. "The sharing of breath."

"It *is* a gift," Cal says, defensive for some reason - there aren't many Wraeththu customs he holds to, but the power of aruna and the sharing of breath is one he holds very dear. "He didn't know it that first night, but I wasn't lying."

"Bullshit. You've kissed plenty of people here."

"Of course I have." Cal pushes him away, and for once Riddle complies, falling back onto the bed beside him. Cal sits up and runs his hands through his hair, sighs through his teeth. "Kissing: a simple human custom that means nothing. Sharing breath, that's different. I haven't done that with anyone here."

Riddle lifts his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"I told Pell. So you know. It'd probably kill them," Cal says matter-of-factly. "And, as you know, I really have no problem with killing people, but I wouldn't want to gain a reputation around here for killing people with my kiss. That's terribly corny."

"I think you overestimate your potency."

"Maybe," Cal agrees, because this really isn't a conversation he wants to be having and he's willing to let Riddle win it.

Riddle leans forward again, though, narrowing his eyes. "Do you really think you could kill someone by kissing them?"

"You are *morbid,* my dear." Riddle just looks at him, and Cal shrugs. "I don't know. I've never shared breath with a human." He thinks about it. "Maybe not. Humans are silly creatures. I've always thought you had the same potential we do - and," he says thoughtfully, "I think I'm right, because look at the humans here. Rikuou's telekinetic, Kazahaya's something like a telepath. It's there. It's just that Wraeththu have learned to utilize that potential. So maybe we aren't so differenet after all, humans and Wraeththu."

"Obviously not. You *were* human once."

"A time I prefer not to think about."

"But you haven't shared breath with anyone here." Riddle strokes his chin. "Interesting."

"Not really. Like I said, I'd just prefer not to end up being wrong. I *can* use my better judgment at times."

"Mmmm. Well," Riddle says, lips curving, "I'm sure you're doing everyone a favor. I'm not anyone here would want a peek into your mind."

Cal just looks at him. Riddle is trying to needle him, he knows that. But he can't help but feel insulted. "Pell never had any complaints."

"None that he *voiced,* no."

Ohhhh, he wants to wipe that little smirk of Riddle's face. So fucking bad. Cal leans forward. "I'll have you know that *no* one has ever had *any* compaints, thank you very much. And trust me, plenty of people have had 'a peek into my mind.' *Plenty.*"

"Yes," says Riddle, smirk widening, "I do know."

"Try it, then." Cal crosses his arms. "See if you have any complaints afterward. You won't, I guarantee you. I am rather famous for my skill in this area." He snorts. "It's hardly the *only* thing I'm famous for, but it's one of them."

"Calanthe." Riddle's voice is very patient, as if speaking to a small child. "You just got finished telling me you would *kill* any human you shared breath with. I do believe I'll have to decline your generous offer."

"I just got through telling you it *won't* kill you. And don't be coy, Riddle. You brought this up for a reason."

Riddle smiles. Some of his smiles remind Cal a little of the novels his mother used to read, trashy romances where the dark sexy guy with the shady background would sweep in and knock the damsel in distress off her feet. Or rape her, depending on the novel. He remembers one phrase in particular that always used to stick in his head: 'he had a smile that could freeze the blood in your veins.' Cheesy, and Cal had seen way too much shit to have his blood frozen by *anything,* but that's what he thought of when Riddle smiled like that.

"Yes," Riddle says, voice silky smooth, sibilant and hissing like the rattling of a snake's tail. "I did bring it up for a reason."

He leans in then, and Cal is reminded unpleasantly of Wraxilan until Riddle's hands come to rest on his arms, his grasp too gentle to be anything like the first Wraeththu Cal ever slept with. "Do it," Riddle says, his mouth against Cal's ear. "Share your breath with me."

Cal feels hot like he hasn't in a long time, but he manages to say in a steady voice, "And what if I don't want to?"

Riddle moves his head so that his lips brush against Cal's cheek. "Who's playing coy now?" he says. His mouth is against Cal's now, his breath puffing against Cal's lips. Cal parts his lips without even seeming to think about it, like he's in a trance, and Riddle's tongue is slipping inside his mouth, chillingly cold.

The sharing of breath is not just a fancy name, not just a Wraeththu conceit - it's a sacred tradition, and rightly so; 'You can gain power over someone this way,' that was what Cal told Pellaz years ago, the first night they met, and it's true. Looking inside someone's mind, tasting their soul: that is power that humans never dreamed of. Cal opens his mind tentatively and exhales, letting Riddle taste his breath; the taste of Riddle's is already setting his on edge, everything cold and hard and silky, like crow's feathers. His toes curl in the bedsheets.

Then Riddle grasps the back of his head and pulls him closer, turning it into something more like a regular kiss, pressing against him so hard and snaking his tongue so deep inside Cal's mouth that Cal knows he'll be bruised in the morning. Riddle's taste is already slipping away, but Cal doesn't miss it. It was making his fingers cold.

Cal wraps his arms around Riddle's neck and pulls him down onto the bed; Riddle is an uncomfortable weight on his chest, but he doesn't really mind because Riddle's breath is hot, his mouth insistent, his fingers beginning to bruise Cal's arms. Cal shifts his hips up and Riddle makes a surprised noise into the kiss, then chuckles into it.

The kiss slows gradually; Cal feeds from Riddle's mouth, slowly and deeply, for a few minutes more before pushing him away, and isn't surprised when Riddle bites his tongue before complying. He is surprised that Riddle is as breathless as he is. They sit back against the cabin wall, still touching, so that every time Riddle moves against him it feels like sparks on Cal's skin. He takes a deep breath to center himself and reaches for his pack of cigarettes.

"Give me one," Riddle says, and Cal does, lighting it for him, too. He tries not to watch the way Riddle's lips close over the cigarette, but he can't help it.

There's silence again for a while, during which Cal regains his composure and briefly regrets what they've done, then decides that he's crazy and would do it again in a heartbeat. He rolls over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and grins up at Riddle. "So?" he says.

Riddle closes his eyes, smirks. "The proverbial cat who ate the canary."

Cal shrugs. "I won't lie. I enjoyed it. Did you?"

"It was... different," Riddle says, tone neutral.

"A high compliment," Cal laughs, ashing his cigarette carelessly onto his bed. He stretches, still grinning, leaning down to touch his toes. "God, I've missed that."

"And I'm not dead." Riddle's voice is warming slightly. "That's a pleasant surprise."

"Not like it'd matter if you died here anyway."

"I prefer to not tempt fate, regardless," Riddle says.

"I do believe it's a little too late for that, isn't it?"

Riddle drags deeply off his cigarette. "It was foolish of me."

"Don't be so negative," Cal says, putting out his cigarette and reaching up to steal a drag off Riddle's. "It was spontaneous."

"How naive of you, Calanthe." Riddle's gaze is like a physical weight as he watches Cal put the cigarette into his mouth and inhale from it. "It wasn't spontaneous at all."

Cal smiles and hands the cigarette back. "So?" he says, shifting so that he's lying down on his back, twisted up in the sheets, and puts his arms over his face. He finally feels tired enough to sleep. "What do I taste like?"

Riddle ashes his cigarette and says nothing. Cal closes his eyes and drifts for a while; he feels warm and oddly disembodied, like he's drunk a particularly potent drug. When Riddle finally speaks, it sounds like his voice is coming from miles away. "I'll keep that my little secret."

Cal snorts, but he's too comfortable to start an argument. He feels Riddle lie down next to him, warming the entire side of his body where Riddle presses against him. He doesn't expect him to ask what Cal tasted in his breath. That'll be Cal's own little secret.

"Good night, Calanthe."

Cal mumbles something in reply, but he's asleep before he even knows what he said. Riddle keeps him warm all night, the way Pellaz used to do when they slept together in the desert, and Cal dreams, for the first time, not of Pell's death, but of him alive, whole, and happy. It's a good dream.

Hello Secret Santa!

Tue, 29 Nov 2005 08:39:14 GMT

Give me candy, biotch.

That is to say: If you're familiar with Cal, fic and fanart are nice. If you're not - which is understandable, little-known canon and all that - I'm fine with random gifts, or gifts that are other-fandom-related (Naruto, FMA, etc.).

I am also fond of Internet pie.

Sun, 20 Nov 2005 22:13:20 GMT

Caeru worked himself up into such a state of tension that by the time Cal presented himself at the doors to the apartment, at the usual time just before dinner, Caeru felt giddy with nerves. He'd asked his kitchen staff to prepare a more sumptuous meal than usual and had changed his mind about which wines should accompany it several times. He dressed himself with care, teased out his startling pale hair into a lion's mane, and darkened his eyes with heavy kohl. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or do, and this in itself was disorientating. He only knew a nexus point had arrived, complete with potential vortex.

Cal himself appeared oblivious toa ny undercurrents in the atmosphere. He came in like a stray cat, lissome and alerrt, as if pondering where best to make his home. It was clear he didn't yet feel comfortable in Immanion. His hair, like Caeru's, was the palest gold, although he kept it fairly short for convenience's sake. Cal, in Rue's opinion, was not a har to spend much time looking after himself. He often appeared as if he'd just rolled out of bed. He was a gypsy creature, disorientated because he was no longer on the move.

Caeru received him on the terrace and at first maintained the somewhat steely demeanor he reserved for his dealings with the new Tigron. "How are you managing alone?" he asked icily, referring to the fact that Pellaz was out of the city, visiting friends in Galhea, no doubt in an attempt to smoothe certain feathers that had been extremely ruffled over recent developments.

Cal threw himself into a chair, with the easy langorous grace that Caeru both envied and despised. "I have kept my pining to a minimum," he said.

"I'm glad. It would distress me to see physical evidence of it."

"Your claws appear to be particularly sharp tonight."

Caeru shrugged, as if Cal was barely worthy of his notice, and signaled to a member of his staff to bring out the first wine. Ast he serving har fussed with the bottle, the Tigrina leaned back in his chair, smiled sweetly at Cal, and said, "Will Pellaz be carrying fond messages from you to your son in Galhea?"

Cal grimaced. "Congratulations, you hit bone! No. Not yet." He narrowed his eyes. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Okay. Fine." Cal took the wine that was offered to him. He sipped. "Mmm. As dry as your tongue, though just as fine."

Caeru smiled fiercely, but inwardly he felt himself slump. Cal was magnificent. He could not be anything but Tigron, or Pell's consort. It was almost surreal to be sitting here talking with him, a har who had been a threatening idea for so long. Caeru had hated Cal from the moment he'd first heard about him and only later discovered this hatred was, in some respects, justified. But looking at him now, no matter what he might have done or been in the past, it was no surprise Pellaz had always adored Cal. Haunted by memories of this exquisite being, how could Pellaz ever have been expected to care for anyone else? No wonder he'd loated the fact that Caeru had ended up at his side instead.

What am I doing? Caeru thought. This is pointless.

"I'm putting a program together," Cal said as the first course of meal was brought out. "I think it's important that victims of the atrocities in Megalithica should receive firsthand Gelaming care. They've been neglected too long. What do you think?"

"I don't care. I just appear at state functions and look pretty."

"You could help me. It's a big job."

"I don't want to. You can't make a difference, so why bother trying?"

"I have the kind of nature that has to keep trying. You might have noticed."

"You do have a trying nature, that is true."

Cal laughed. "I'm so pleased you enjoy our meals together. It's a kind of blood sport, isn't it?"

"so I'm told. You don't have to come, so I assume you enjoy it too. Is it the same with Pell? Are you into being dominated? Perhaps you still remember the young boy you incepted into Wraeththu. It must be quite a shock to see how he's turned out. And now he has you, bound hand and foot. Was it worth the trouble?"

Cal didn't say anything, and Caeru realized he had hit a nerve, perhaps several. Not good. That wasn't supposed to be the purpose of this meeting, even if it was almost impossible to rein in the bitterness. "Tell me your plans," he said. "I don't want to help you, but it might pass the time to hear about them." He knew Cal would recognize a peace offering when it was given to him. Apology would be going too far.

Cal spoke of his dreams, those he had cherished for years. Caeru realized that Pellaz was perhaps not the only reason Cal was here in Immanion. He spoke with greater and greater passion as the meal progressed, of how he wanted to help all those hara who had been incepted into violent tribes and who were still hunted as criminals now that the Gelaming had mostly established control in Megalithica. "It is all about choice," he said, "and how some hara never had it. If I'm going to be a Tigron I might as well try to do something good. Looking pretty is not enough for me."

"You never had to go through what I did," Caeru said. "Don't judge me."

"I know what you went through. We all went through *something.* Remember: I was Uigenna. I have blood on my hands. You don't. Pell doesn't expect anything of you, Rue. In that, you are lucky."

"Are you confiding in me?"

"I wouldn't be so stupid. It's just a fact, and everyone knows it."

"Calanthe: champion of the underdog. It's a good image; as good as mine, I suppose, though just as rhetorical."

Cal sighed through his nose. "You are exhausting." He pushed his plate away from him. "Dinner was good. We eat like kings, while in other places....."

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it."

"I know. Not many do."

"I'll give you five years at most before you get totally disillusioned and just sit back to enjoy the good food. Don't you realize what Tigron and Tigrina are? Carnival attractions. We're not supposed to have opinions or *do* anything."

"That's not true. Pell does a lot."

"Five years, that's all," Caeru said.

"I'll prove you wrong." Cal stood up. "Thanks for dinner."

[AU RP]

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 06:20:19 GMT

Riddle, dear, you could always come see me for a smoke.

((Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.))

Sat, 29 Oct 2005 06:17:27 GMT

I am living two lives. I am not mad. Perhaps that is my punishment. Yesterday is two places, each memory convincing, each incident as clear as ice water. I am fourteen years old. Seel is with me, younger, eager, dog-like in his trusting simplicity. The air smells bad around here. It is a dead part of the city. They say that the Wraeththu live here. We have come to see. Seel's trousers are ripped, his knee grazed. He is nervous. I am merely numb. It is the only way for us. The others, the world, our families, what is left of establishment on this wasteland earth are on to us. We are so young. We are afraid yet brave, our courage is a kind of contaminated innocence; we are humans and we are lovers.

In the wake of various hysterias, our love is outlawed. We risk death every day. (The first thrown stone; others would follow.) No one must know about us. It is a danger even to look at each other, in case the warmth of our eyes betrays us. So little warmth in this world; we must stand next to it when we can. Flesh pressed too long to ice brings death - death of the soul. Many soulless people wander this land. Every other house stands empty in our street now. Doors and windows silent, sagging, vomiting desolation. Our trysting places. We first made love amongst the rubble, the sound of wailing outside, far away, in the sunlight. A sharp retort of gunfire. Summertime. Dogs barking on the hot asphalt but no children playing.

Seel shudders and closes his eyes. We both know. There is no place for us in the grave of Mankind. Always smoke on the horizon and the stink of recent carnage. Frightened eyes, sealed mouths. Mankind are a frightened people. Demons without, demons within. They can see the door closing on them, shutting off the light forever. It is the end.

There is a hole in the ground. A house once stood there. This was the cellar. Seel and I look at each other. We are so young; we know that. Our hearts ache with nostalgia for other summertimes, simple pleasures, a mother's voice calling from the shade. We look back at the city. I see us as children, hapy in that forgotten sunlight, and I know that Seel sees it too. He smiles and puts his hand on my arm. We both look into the hole in the grond. There is a musky smelll as would issue from the lair of a beast. Wraeththu live beneath the city. What are they? We have heard that they can take our humanity away from us. Take us in. It is our only hope. We can no longer live above the ground. I take the first step and still look back. Seel is a silhouette against the white, summer sky. He reaches for my hand. "We are together," he says and his lovely eyes are full of fear.

"Yes," I say, and he follows me....

*

I am Uigenna. This is the tribe that took us in: Uigenna. We had no way of knowing one tribe from another; we did not know they have different beliefs, different ways, different breath. Inception was ghastly. A fire-lit cellar, leaping flame shadows on the walls, a stink of filth. Inception room. Their hienama wore feathers and fur, stripes daubed across his face and chest. He took glass, a shard of glass in his hands. Someone held me down. I felt the painless, sickening kiss of sharpness against weak flesh.

A transfusion of Wraeththu blood. We'd heard it was something like that. Hienama and me. His blood into my veins, humanity dripping out of me onto sand and sawdust, with a halo of whimpering. I heard Seel crying, far away, nearby, in my head. Yes, in my head. Seel would not accept inception into this tribe. I had already amde up my mind. The past was powerless to persuade me otherwise, whether through love or hate. Even in my pain and fear, I did not regret. Not once. Not ever. For the next few days, while my body churned and changed, it was that one, fierce thought that kept me alive. It was what I wanted. I would face death to get it; and I did. And now is the time....

Now is the time for this virgin body to flower. I have arisen, shining, from althaia to a waiting hunger. The leader of this Uigenna tribe is known as Manticker the Seventy. This is because he once slew seventy armed human soldiers in one frenzied outburst. I can believe it. He is scarred and muscled, his femininity betrayed by his temper, his inner strength. I have only been here for a short while, yet already it is clear that Manticker is being rivalled for control of the tribe. His contender is one Wraxilan, a great favorite of the warriors. He is rash and careless, but fearless and strong and quick. He carries few scars. His blond hair is shorn at the sides of his head, but as the rest of it is so thick, he still carries a splendid mane. He is also known as the Lion of Oomar, which is how our branch of the tribe is named. Wraxilan has the broad shoulders of a man, the slim hips of a dancer, the hands and neck of a graceful Amazon, the shapely legs of a whore. He laughs nearly all the time. Like all the others, I am intrigued by him. Slightly afraid, yes, but that is a wise precaution. Now, I lie waiting in the straw, by the light of a single candle, in a dank cellar. I am waiting for the one who will come to me, awaken my new, female crevices, seasl the pact that I have made with Wraeththu. As he comes toward me, it is his hair that I recognize first. "You," I say, and in my voice I hear the echoes of welcome and fear.

"You think I would let anyone else have you, Cal?" he answers, smiling. "You're the best we've had for a long time. Lie back. I will make this good for you."

*

I am Uigenna. I am sixteen years old. The world has gone now, the world that I knew. My family is probably dead. I don't care. I really don't. I tell myself they never liked me. I still don't know if that is true. Seel went to the Unneah. That was because the Uigenna were too wild for him, too ferocious. We meet sometimes, on those crazy borderlands that exist in cities like this. It has changed so much in such a short space of time. I feel like I've lived for a hundred years. There is Wraeththu blood in my veins and I feel like God. Human life means nothing to me. They are so small. I hate them. I have to kill. Every time I kill, I see a mocking, threatening face. Such faces followed me in the past. Such faces drove me to what I have become. they shouted out to me, menacing, vulgar, ugly. But no more. They are dead and those that still live shall die. In the shadows of perpetual night, in the light of dancing flames, I meet a har named Zackala. We intrigue each other in an outlandish courtship. Our nuptial bed is a heap of debris, broken windowframes, wreckage of love. He bites me. We laugh. Pain makes me strong. I live in this place. It is always with me. At night, I do not dream. I just remember. There are no nightmares.

*

Red sand. Red pony. I ride away from those that had succored me. I am healed - in body. The desert has power; mankind has barely touched it. It is soothing. After a few days, I ride into a one-house peasant town. I have a feeling something will happen here. It does.

I see him framed in a doorway. Peasant boy, all hair and eyes, but such eyes! They know so little here. They do not know what I am. I watch him constantly. Here is beauty, I think. Yes, here it is. A healing loveliness, but human. "I am Pellaz," he tells me and he smiles; a nervous, bright smile of the uncorrupted. I am death, little child. I will lie to you. I cannot let you know me because I want you. I ride through the mist on a steamy afternoon, through red mud on a red pony, stolen money in my pocket, a stolen smile on my face. I ride toward hima nd he tells me his name. The first, fateful magic. Now I will have you, little one.

It is so easy. I steal him away, like the money, like the pony, into the wilderness that is not just a waste of stone and sand, but a wilderness of the spirit because he is leaving the world he knows. He looks back and I think, He will go back. he has realized, and he will go back. But he merely sighs and follows me. There is something powerful and untrained inside him. He must become har - and quickly. Seel has a stronghold in the desert mountains. I shall take him there. He shall be made Wraeththu. Then he will be mine. Healing balm, healing feelings; his innocence shall cleanse me and make me whole. I'll wake up and the world shall be new and my smile will come from the inside, black memories forgotten. Please don't let him see me kill.

*

Pell and I are in Galhea. Terzian is lord here and we are in his house. Flashbacks to another time: Terzian is a powerful har. He likes me. He says, "Don't you get sick of traveling around, Cal?" Of course I do, but how can I explain that we are running, just ahead of something and that something is huge and dangerous. We don't even know what it is. "It's because of Pell," I say, and that's all I can say. "We have to... keep going."

"We?" Terzian smiles. "You don't have to, surely!" He wants me to stay with him. He wants me to have his sons. Such an offer. This is not a burnt-out wasteland; this is real living. Comfort, security, affluence. But then, there is Pell. And there are memories. It was not easy when Zack and I were kicked out of the Uigenna. I was younger then. We suffered for a while until we reached the sanctuary of the Unneah. Terzian cannot banish me. I don't belong here. He doesn't own me. This time, when I say no, it will be because I have the power; not him.

"Cal, don't leave me," he says. "Don't." When I am sure he loves me, I walk out of the door. It is not a happy triumph. Empty victory. Pell and I ride toward the south. The clouds are gathering.

*

Dampness, warmth, rising steam. The sound of moisture dripping from leaf to leaf. Birds are silenced; our horses push through greenery. Ahead of us the trees are thinning. Pell is in front of me. I am filled with feelings that I cannot describe. It is as if Fate himself is looming above the trees, filling the sky. At the time, I am not afraid nor do I even try to fight it. A town has appeared. It is quiet, no smoke rising, no movement; the trees have peeled back to reveal it. The town is red, the trees green. We walk our horses along the road.

"Pell," I say, "let me go first. It might be dangerous." Pell shakes his head. We are both powerless, but we know nothing, only that we love. We do not realize that all the time something has been following us, leading us, directing us. I should have known. God, I should have known. Love blinds me.

Now the time for such teasing has come to an end. Pell can play at life no more and my time of sanity is over. Back to the time of blood. The end. We are not aware of what controls us because, for a time, we were innocent and incapable of thinking about, let alone comprehending, a thing so huge, so terrifying, so corrupt. We can only see each other and that is enough.

The bullet, when it comes, surprises me only by its sharp, exploding sound. Pell is killed instantly. I see him jerk, fall from the trembling horse. What's happened? It takes a moment to sink in. My face is stinging. Why? Has a sharp twig snapped up and scratched me? What is it? Pell, what's happened? He doesn't answer. He can't. Never again. Never. I watch my life explode in a spray of blood and a scream; a horse's scream. Then madness takes me and everything is cold, cold, cold. I look at him lying there, his fingers twitching. Screaming horses. Death. The smell of burning. There is light above the trees, taking him from me. A cold light.

I am crying out because I'm sure it is the end.

If only it had been.