ZUBA: A New Acquaintance (short story draft, script)

I: *appears out of the pot of soup, a dark-blue haired, little, scruffy, horned man with a stubbly chin, pointed ears, keen black eyes, and shabby brown and gray clothes, a pair of small, clear wings on his back and his feet bare* Hm... this is a strange bath you're making for your ferret... *tastes it* ...Pretty easy on the taste buds, though...

C: Aaagh! *drops the spoon in her surprise, stumbling back from the stove as it clatters to the ground and sends droplets of broth everywhere* W...what the hell!? WHO or WHAT are you? And...and how do you know about Bandit!? *stares accusingly*

I: Oh! *quits his sampling of the soup after a bite of carrot* Hey there! I've been waiting for you to boil some water for a spell, but you don't do that much, do ya? ^^

C: ...w...well, no, I guess not... but that didn't answer my question... *steps closer warily, recovering from her initial shock, now more on her usual guard* Get to explaining. What are you... and why are you so bloody short?

I: I'mmmm your fairy godmother! *jazz hands*

C: ...what? *raises an eyebrow, slightly sneering, hand resting on her hip* ...You've got to be f*cking kidding me... I'm no Cinderella.

I: *chuckles* Just kiddin'! Yooou, Missus, can think of me as a sorta... guardian... *floats up and pinches her cheek* heree to heelp yooou...

C: *swats at his hand* Sod off!

I: Ohohoo, I haven't heard that one since I was in England! ^^ Such a dirty mouth on ya... we're gonna get along just dandy.

C: Yeah, well... wait, what? You said England. Not Rochester. You're not from here...?

I: Ohh nooo, of course not! ^^ *giggles* I'm from waaaay... far away. *pulls out some kind of homemade-looking roll-up and lights it*

C: Hey hey, don't smoke in here! I've got kids! And you're on the STOVE! That shit can't be safe... *bats at him*

I: Eee...! *floats out of the soup and flutters over out of reach* Stop that, stop that! It's not really affecting anything here anyway! I'm not real like that!

C: ...hold on, you're... not...? *pauses in her shooing and swatting* So what, you're like a fairy...? Or only I can see you or something? Because my husband already thinks I'm crazy enough as it is.

I: Oh, don't worry about thaat, I'm not imaginary... or a fairy, thank you very much. Vain little buggers. No, I'm more like... an Imp. And children and anyone who is magically sensitive enough will be able to see me. So that means you and your kids, and... I'm not sure about your hubby. It's possible. *puffs on his little cigar, purple smoke curling*

C: Huh. So you're... some kind of guardian. But you're not from my world. So that means... you've got to be from somewhere else I've been that has magic. But that's a pretty open-ended question... almost better to ask where HAVEN'T I been with magic? Not exactly like I know where does and doesn't for sure...

I: Oooh... a riddle. ^^ Sounds fun.

C: ...You're not going to tell me, are you?

I: I like you. You answer your own questions. ^^ Most humans I've met are dumb.

C: ...I'm not sure if that was sarcastic or not but I'm going to pretend for my sake that it wasn't. Thanks. So uh... what do I call you?

I: Oh, you get to choose! My charge chooses the one name I am to be known by during my entire stay with them. Anything you want. My reeeal name is Imp, but those who prefer more "human" sounding names have gone with, oh say, Ignacio, or Ivan or... *cringes* ...Iggy, for short.

C: *smirks a little* I see... and which of these do you prefer, again?

I: Oh Imp, easily! ^^

C: Iggy it is, then.

I: Oh tha--heeeey! ...I should have seen that coming. You're not nice...

C: Eh, I have my moments. Anyway, nice to meet ya, Iggy or Eggy or whatever. Keep quiet and stay out of the way and maybe you won't get trodden under foot or chewed on.

I: W-what...?

C: Have you met Avello? *jerks a thumb outside*

I: O-oh yes... *shivers* ...your dragon, yes... he tried to eat me when I tried appearing out of your hot tub.

C: *grins slightly and makes a mental note to herself* Give Avello the biggest damn porkchop he's ever seen later. *ahem* Oh that's too bad. He means well.

I: Of course... so, when's this bath ready...? *looks again at the soup hopefully, wafting the savory smell*

C: Firstly, it's soup. You know, broth, veggies, meat, noodles, sometimes rice. Food. And it'll be ready in two minutes if you quit distracting me and hoverin' around.

I: All right... *puts out his cigar and tucks the leftover behind his ear, rubbing his stubbly little chin* ...maaybe I'll go check out the digs. Seems like a nice house. Is that okay...?

C: Fine... just don't spook anyone or upset my kids. We're talkin' this guardian thing out more later, though. I want details. And there WILL be rules.

I: Deal, lady! ^^

C: Good... *groans when he leaves and goes back to her cooking, the soup seemingly unaffected at all by his earlier wading, bathing, and eating*


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Savirox Fanaren (8:22:27 PM): ( erm... an imp? )
superaikies (8:23:08 PM): (like a mischievious little fantastical creature)
From Wiki: "An imp is a mythological being similar to a fairy or demon, frequently described in folklore and superstition. The word may perhaps derive from the term ympe, used to denote a young grafted tree.

"Imps are often described as mischievous more than seriously threatening, and as lesser beings rather than more important supernatural beings. The attendants of the devil are sometimes described as imps. They are usually described as lively and having small stature.

"To this end it came to be believed that imps were the familiar spirit servants of witches and warlocks, where the little demons served as spies and informants. During the time of the witch hunts, supernatural creatures such as imps were sought out as proof of witchcraft, though often the so called 'imp' was typically a black cat, lizard, toad or some other form of uncommon pet."

Short Story Intro (Draft) -- Lahash's Entrance (written by insaney)

I knew that she didn’t want to take me along at all. It was my son that convinced her, if you really think about it. And if you think about it some more, she didn’t want to take my son along, either. I found it odd, since she was doing it for their children and for Rubato on a whole. I offered to go in place of my son, instead; after all, it was my grandchildren that they wanted to fight for, right? She was still pretty much a wall when I offered to, but our persistence actually broke through after a tiny while. Even so, there was that bit of silence before she accepted me.

She really is feisty, but sweet in her own way. I wonder how my son got caught up with such a lady. He’d have to tell me about it, someday. Come to think of it, he’d have to tell me the story of a lot of things.

This wasn’t really... my kind of thing. I usually go it alone, even into a fortress like this. But...for the sake of my children; my two daughters and my son and for the sake of their children, I’ll have to be the secondary force behind this one. She is, after all, the leader and the brains of this operation. I’m just representing my son here and...if she needed it, which I doubt she will, I’d protect my daughter in any way I can.

For now, though, she instructed me to just distract and keep an eye on the guards. This would be easy for a monster like me.

Short Story Intro (Draft) -- "I'm not an 'avenging angel', just a woman with some hungry neighbors."

And suddenly, I felt like I was twenty-seven again, headed to take care of Scipio Ciatore in the Rubatoian embassy in Bellavista, Florheim, only this time, no one had sent me. Unless, of course, you wanted to glorify things--wanted to say that the Rubatoians, frustrated over the decades of high tariffs, and food costs, and Cernilia's near-monopoly over some of our barest necessities, had finally sent me there for the emperor as a representative of my people's will. I wouldn't say all that. But then again, I'd rather not make it into the history books. I'd like this just to help my kids, and my kids' kids someday, without them ever realizing what their Mae had to do. Mae was a criminal--and she'll act like one again, for them. For home.

How this all started... the easiest way to know there's a problem in Rubato is to look at the capital, Blancwood. If the academy's having to go without Wednesday's chicken alfredo with cream sauce and Thursday's veal parmesan, you don't have to think hard to figure out what the rest of us are doing without. Clean water. Bread. Fruits and vegetables to make sure our children grow up healthy. Even now, when I may have a whole drawer of those proverbial "silver spoons" in my big house, I can't ignore the struggling of the people I grew up with. I still think of myself as one of them. But I also can't buy them all groceries all year, every year. So something has to change.

Anyway, away from the problem for a moment, back to the present. If you look at a map, it's only a dot, but Cittá is a bona fide citadel. It's been fortified like that since the last Blancwood-Cernilia war, only a handful of years ago. The guards are well-trained, and with their people only a few generations removed from being Rubatoians, there are many gypsies and mages of other kinds on their side as well. It's meant to be the ultimate roadblock for invaders of Cernilia. That's why a small force, myself and my suegro (father-in-law) that I... grudgingly took with me, should have been the best bet, I thought. Not a four-of-a-kind, but a full house maybe, something with a good chance of winning. He was to keep watch and distract any guards that might have noticed my entry into the imperial palace on that night.

Short Story: Flight at Dusk

The city at dusk was wild.

Lithe young legs carried her through the jungle of stone and clay, past barred windows and locked doors, over barbed wire fence and through alleyways, all to the pursuing barks of dogs. The rusted streetlamps at the end of each block were coming alive as she passed them, as if the city itself were chasing her. Still far behind, the lights of police cars quested, searching every nook and cranny of Santa Mariela.

Her lungs were on fire and her muscles ached, but she continued to run. The dogs were growing closer. And water! How she needed water, would die for but a sip of water right now! Why couldn't it rain just this once? But her thirst would have to go on unquenched until she reached home and was tugged into the safety and security of the dark house with its traps. Only there could she finally stop, and ease her burdens of that night's events, and finally take a breath of relief. Only when she was told that she was done, by that soothing, authoritative voice, could she rest, never to have to pick up her bow again. In her mind, she could still see the arrow, flying...

A gunshot pierced the darkening sky, with clouds that seemed to bleed the dusky reddish hue of early night and fading day. There were louder, more intense barks, snarling and the scrabbling off paws coming from Reyes Avenue, into where it crossed Rua Fontane, the street she'd been following to her freedom. It would not be safe any longer--she quickly veered out of the glow of the streetlamp, launching herself up onto a closed dumpster and making the leap over another fence. She cleared the barbed wire--but her sandal didn't. It snagged and came loose, the strap broken in half after wear and tear with this last bit of stress. She tumbled to the ground, a segment of the barbed wire rolling with her and cutting open the skin along her shin. She struggled onto her feet, ignoring the pain and the blood dripping down her leg onto the sand, the salt making the wound sting, and began to run again, into the dark, smoky alley. Even though its depths were unknown, it was a thousand times better than the certain punishment that came after her.

She remembered hearing in school the old stories of Gardenians in the States of Cordelia, over a hundred years ago, who were accused of killing a police chief, and found innocent. They were killed anyways, killed because they were foreigners and the Cordelians were jealous of their success. But... the situation was different here. The officer had been from Rochester, and he was the minority here, in Rubato. Would they even bother to fully investigate his death? Could they not just sweep it under the rug, as other places did? She could only hope so.

The alley was longer than she had first remembered. The city felt different at night, less familiar, easier to be lost in and never heard from again. Even though it wasn't late, there seemed to be no activity in the homes she passed, no lights on or sounds of conversation. It was just as well... she didn't wish to be seen as she was. She turned another corner, and saw the far-off beacon of the lamp in the Madrigal window, gleaming through the dusky gloom. Almost there. Almost safe.

She kept running until she collided into a soft, dark shape, and two wrinkled hands forced her to look up. The old, earthy brown eyes set in the sagged, bronze face seemed to look upon the dirty, bloodied girl with pity as her chest rose and fell in frantic breaths.

"What is wrong, my child...?" the worried, motherly voice spoke in Rubatoian. She brushed aside the girl's dark curls, matted to her head with cool sweat. When the girl pretended not to understand her, she drew her own conclusions, "What have you done...? You have a heavy heart..."

The old eyes were knowing... the girl looked into them, finding understanding there, wanting this woman to alleviate her pain and guilt, and tell her everything would be okay. It wasn't her fault, and... and things would end here! She was truly sorry!

But she didn't ask the woman to tell her any of those things. She just gave a stuttered cry, a release of tension, a sad and frightened and panicked sound, and darted out of her grasp, past her and into the dim light of the open street. She didn't stop running until she reached the back of the Madrigal house, at a staircase that descended into the basement, and the third pair of hands that had grabbed her that night pulled her into the dark. Hurriedly, the door was locked, and a lamp in the corner was switched on.

"The kill was efficient, and so was the clean-up, but you could stand to run away better. Don't you always flee well from fights? What happened there, irminha? You tripped?"

There was only a whimper in response from the trembling, wounded child on the floor. She clutched at her leg and stared down, away from the demanding glare of her sister.

"Well, Callahann is dead, so you've completed your task for the family este noche. Bom. They will only get harder from here, though, so quit crying. Grow some backbone," the lady in the red dress, hands held imperially on her hips, turned to the younger, serene-looking woman on the sofa. "Luminari, fix her up. I don't want bloodstains on the carpet."

The younger woman gave a nod, and smiled as she came over towards the girl on the floor. The smile was not a particularly kind smile, just one that seemed to say, "Good job." There was something about it that the girl had never really liked...

Her sister bent down and wiped the blood along the cut on her shin with a cloth, magic glowing around her other hand. The little particles of light collected around the wound, and then disappeared into it. Moments later, the stinging had stopped. It was starting to heal. The girl might have thanked her, but knew it would mean nothing. She brushed herself off and tried to stand. Her hands were still quivering.

"Go and sleep," the woman in red commanded her. "Tomorrow, you shall be taking a... delivery to a Signor Córdoba, a private detective in Cernilia. If he does not... cooperate," she smiled at this, "then... you know how to deal with him. Hasta mañana."

The lamp was flicked off, and Cadenza was left to rest for the night.