Sunday, June 30, 2013

Exercise in Daily Prompt

While I'm not trying to dodge the "first person present tense" portion of the exercise, I can't seem to figure who either one of my Antagonists might consider visiting in such a place! Even if both had a physical form, as only one might, I can't see either caring enough about anyone to do such a thing.

I need to think on this more, and come back to it later.  I'm thinking the one least likely may well be the most surprising.  After all--  there are unknown years before his memory was returned.  And it is conceivable that during his forced ignorance, he actually experienced what it means to care.

Blessings, LL Abbott

To What End?

As I stated a little while back-- I pulled it all out and boxed up every last folder, index card, and handwritten scrap of paper dealing with my Chronicles storyline.  I took action on it again because of a kind bit of encouragement; but-- feel as though I've been talking to the air ever since.  But likely the most egregious act so far is the self doubt talk rambling through my brain. Though it wasn't Doubt that made me put it all away a few years back.  Quite the contrary. 

The other day I scrolled upon a Facebook post regarding NaNoWriMo's current summer endeavor, and mulled it over for the next day or so.  Yesterday I took the plunge and signed up.  Ever since, "To what end?" has been screamed and echoed through my brain matter.  I was actually feeling happy, around this same time, about being able to get back to some of my hand spinning. It had fallen completely by the way during the months of getting this year's gardening started.  But now since it is more in a state of maintenance, I thought that I could physically resume the twirl of my drop spindles again. 

I have busied myself with many creative projects of late.  And only rarely have I missed any form of writing; though I do tend to wax poetic with my Facebook Status updates on occasion.  But as I indicated a month or so back, I'd come to peaceable terms with giving up my prose.  It almost seems I'm punishing myself by pulling it all back out.  But there is also a depth to it that I miss. 

"To what end?"

That is indeed the question. And it would seem I cannot know the answer until I find it out. 

Blessings, LL Abbott 

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Exercise in Daily Prompt

I have two Antagonists in Caged Heart ~ The Last Heartbound

Annessau. Primal Element of the Heart. She is of Crystalline origin, and they bear no humanoid facial features. Communication is solely from Within. And-- though she briefly took on human form, it was for the purpose of a ruse. A diversion. Her once human body now lies frozen and entombed deep within an undisclosed catacomb somewhere in the WestSector. Dellasseea N'Syis has never seen it, so a description of Annessau's human appearance is not available to her. But she was told the one thing that would make the disguise look somewhat alien to those of this world, is the perfect symmetry of its creation.

Aukasaunon. The Primal Element of the Void. Also of Crystalline origin. He has yet to reveal his human self. The one time Dellasseea caught a glimpse, he was enshrouded in a worn black hooded robe. Due to his crimes, he was transmuted and encaged in human form upon this world; but-- that was millennia ago. I suspect, though, he has held onto that body much longer than what most would consider natural.  Having learned to escape its enslavement, and since he communicates solely from Within, I suspect his mouth would show serious signs of disuse.

Blessings, LL Abbott
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Caged Heart--The Last Heartbound / The Forbidden World Chronicles ~L.L. Abbott
Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved 

Friday, June 28, 2013

The Day the Music Died

Entry by: Dellasseea N'Syis--FirstBorn Daughter
As told by: Perrie Stevens/Dellasseea N'Syis
Third Era/Third Displacement/The Alone Years
Some years prior to the *Last Ground Battle?
*Unknown~The Future is no longer the same as previous Timelines
I rarely even listen anymore.  To me the airwaves are silent. The music no longer sings to me. Their voices have been stilled. Silenced by those that profited by their collective successes. Producers. Promoters. Managers. Unscrupulously, they diverted the attention of the consumer toward the new Dirty Urban sound coming out of the coastal WestSector. 

While their purpose, in Truth, had indeed been to find me, all of the Allied Bands are now, for all intents and purposes, silenced. By my very awareness. Their music no longer touches my heart.  I am left with only the replays; the classic memories of days gone by the way.  There is no one, in any radio station, willing to flip the switch to allow a live feed. And I am left empty inside. The emptiness prior to my Awakening is now simply replaced by one decidedly better defined.

Even though I am found, and able to discern their respective Touches from Within, I am as far away as my enemies could ever intend.  And though I've been heard to say, "I love his voice..." It no longer journeys through the static airwaves.  It has been silenced by the industry that made their millions off a voice that many today emulate.  Silenced because They knew I knew exactly who Ray Lynn was to me, and why it had been his voice alone that made my heart ache.

Now he sits alone in his expansive compound.  Waiting.  Imprisoned by what he'd accomplished.  But then that had been the plan.  He is merely holding up of his end of the new Bargain struck.  Meaning, this time around things are terribly changed.  By this time, last time, Ray Lynn and the Allies already had me in their protection; making sure the Chronicles were rewritten.  And republished.  Making sure the truth was told in what ways were left to us. 

But, in seeking to protect me from the ugliness of past timelines, he alone changed the course of the previously-known future.  The divorce trial did not happen. The near fatal attempt on my life has not happened. And now he waits.  Alone and somewhat engaged in the remnants of his success.  Waiting for me to make way toward him.  And here it is that the struggle continues.  Changing what once was has its ramifications.  Now he/they/all suffer the consequences.   

[Check Comments for relevant/associated storyline]
Blessings, LL Abbott
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Caged Heart--The Last Heartbound / The Forbidden World Chronicles ~L.L. Abbott
Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved -- Current Draft

I write like
George Orwell
I Write Like. Analyze your writing!

Thursday, June 27, 2013

I Write Like ~ Analyzer

I copy/ pasted Part Four into the Analyzer:

I write like
Edgar Allan Poe
I Write Like. Analyze your writing!

Death of a Human Heart ~ Part Four

from his eyes came
 subtle acknowledgement

from her eyes falls
gently his peace
[WARNING: Some strong language]

Feeling each finger loosen and brush away, her eyes sealed even tighter.  Within the lingering silence of his passing, Dellasseea drew in and released another long and arduous breath.  She opened her eyes and looked upon that which was left to her.  Being of this world's true human descent, she could not absorb his essence.  He is gone to her now; forever.
All those bound to her heart—no matter the distance—also felt his passing and shared the anguish of her tears tenfold.  For the pain now suffered is hers alone, and it rushed through her entirety. 

Styian caught his friend's fallen arm and rested it gingerly upon the ground.  He then brushed his fingertips across The Interpreter's eyelids; closing them.

Totally unaware of Styian's movement, Dellasseea reluctantly released her embrace upon that which had encaged his terran bound soul, and slowly withdrew her hand from the gapping cavity.  All that came next seemed so scripted.  She had after all written and edited this moment dozens of times. Read and reread it countless times.  She listened to other peoples' suggestions for making it a better story.  And now--- she knew it as testament.

As Styian reached for the bloodied shirt that lay at his friend’s side, it seemed strange even to him that he could still be amazed when anything happened the way he read it as happening.  He took Dellasseea’s hand to wipe clean the blood that drenched it.  And in that same instant, Dellasseea’s eyes moved to the steel fragment they pulled from his chest.  The image of its impact and their subsequent effort to remove it swept through her and she swayed backwards.

Gently Lionheart seized her by the other arm and raised her to his side.  She brushed mindlessly at the mud now caking the front of her skirt.  Again, to those around her, there seemed a hesitation. 
Looking to the boy standing wide-eyed with amazement, she reflected out of frustration, ‘Am I truly re-living a displaced portion of time— or merely following rewritten words of a long-lost storyline? 
Relinquishing her consult to those pointless questions, she stated in a matter-of-fact voice, "His body comes with us."

"Another one?" A brazen young voice pierced a now silent nightscape. "We can't keep carrying all these bodies around.  It’s…"
Had he not smarted off she would have left it alone at the question.  But his tone warranted her attention and direction.  Though she chose to accept and walks a road not of her own paving, knowledge of the future never made it easier to meet.  Dellasseea turned and grabbed the adolescent by the front of his shirt.  Yanking him closer she ennuniated, "He goes with us!"
She held him in an unfaltering gaze as he tried ineffectively to squirm out from her grip.  His mouth dropped open, and a sudden sense of fear shot through her. 
Though she had more sympathy for his current situation than he could presently believe, she finished with,  "I owe you no explanation!" 

Hoping he would see in her eyes that she offered him guidance, Dellasseea delayed for the response she knew he wouldn't make.  She couldn’t fault the boy his attitude. 

‘So you are him!’ she mused Within. 
She hadn’t recognized him until just now.  Another to hvae came into his own place; his part in the future she, and those closest to her, fought to duplicate.
As she let go, the boy looked down at the bloodied print staining his shirt. "Besides," she continued, "if you truly knew what was going on here, you'd already know why we’re tak--- " 

She couldn’t finish.  There was no real need to.  She had to let it play out.  Instead, Dellasseea offered a loving smile.  And then she turned and walked off; disappearing with Khy-Lin and Lionheart, back into the darkness.
As Styian and others lifted The Interpreter's body, the boy just stood there; knowing better than to say another word.  Still somewhat frazzled, it didn't register who it was that shoved a dog-eared paperback at him.  Or, for that matter, who it was that told him simply to, "Read it!"
Frozen in place until completely alone, he looked down to find he actually recognized the book.  Destiny's Heir was the second volume in The Forbidden World Chronicles.  He’d read them all.  And is exactly why he sought out and joined the camp.  Written throughout the Awakening Years and published sometime after the Caged Heart tours, it chronicled the events that would lead to their eventual escape from this world. 
With a new and unfettered curiosity the boy opened it up to a worn out bookmark.  Its tassel long since torn away and floral design all but remaining, an equally faded verse barely read, “Anything is possible if you believe.” 

Closing it quickly, as if not the proper time or the actual place—as he would soon come to read—he tucked it safely away in pocket of the adult-sized, professional football sports jacket.  He then rushed off to join the rest as they departed to secure the camp. 
Later that night, unable to sleep, he will open the books tattered pages and read of the very situation in which he'd just been a part.  By reading anew, he will find himself in her stories much the same way others came to recognize themselves; as being inextricably linked.  As he continues, he will  remember reading of the young boy, considered to be a loaner, and the man who would eventually adopt him. He will have a better understanding of his existing attachment to one of her personal guardians, and will from tomorrow on, be the one this high-born woman affectionately refers to as, Shadow.
In the long and hard days that followed, Dellasseea N’Syis saw The Interpreter's body along the way to his destined pyre.  She sang at its lighting in a voice not of this world, and touched the souls of all who listened. 
His remains would be carried back to EeDellon, as she would not leave him to the coldness of this unkind world.  There will she return him to terra firma.  Though his are not the only ashes to be taken, the difference is that the seed of the another's rebirth already sleeps within her; making his the first birth on EeDellon since the night of its all-but-total annihilation. 
As the First Born Daughter of the Primal Elements returned to the front, there was consolation only in knowing The Interpreter's soul had belonged to the Old One. The first of The Ancient Ones, and not to that which ruled this forbidding world.  Though he is gone to her now—for what will seem as forever—he will be re-absorbed into the oneness from which his life force and subsequent sparked soul had been extracted.  There, where Time matters not, his essence will wait.  For now, there are people reach and a Doorway yet to be found. But once upon returning home—when the Old One sees things right—The Interpreter's soul will be gifted back as a child for her to birth. 

Blessings, LL Abbott

Caged Heart--The Last Heartbound / The Forbidden World Chronicles ~L.L. Abbott
Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved -- Current Draft

The Use of Strong Language

Just so we are clear--- There is certain language that I never use.  Well--- I likely should not have stated "never."

I used the "F" word once during a standoff with my long since Ex, when I stood up to one of his more threatening bluffs. Though at the time--- I wouldn't have bet the bank on it having been a bluff. I was that scared. And another time, M-A-N-Y years prior when one of my sister's boyfriends decided to be an arse with me. My entire family supported the action I had taken that evening.... they knew I never used that word. And my sister quickly showed him that oh so proverbial door.

Certain of what many reasonably consider the more vulgar language is simply every day verbiage for others. And I had no problem using it in Death of a Human Heart, because I knew that Lionheart was simply one of those "others."

During a character's development, you get to know when certain verbiage just isn't quite the same. "‘What the Hell’s going on back there?’" would not have emoted the same anger. And Perrie Stevens/Dellesseea N'Syis is mindful that he grew up on the streets of the Eastern WestSector. Therefore I had no reservations of using the "F" word in its stead.

Blessings, L.L. Abbott

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Music That Inspires~

Music is a great Muse.  It can sway and melt your heart.  The following is one of my all time favorites tracks from Peter Gabriel's album, So.  It is also the inspiration behind Death of a Human Heart.  So--- You might want to give a listen to In Your Eyes, as you read through parts One, Two, and Three.  Enjoy!

Blessings, LL Abbott

Death of a Human Heart ~ Part Three

from his eyes came 
subtle acknowledgement
from her eyes falls
gently his peace
 [WARNING: Some strong language]
When they arrived at ground zero, a boy and a newer member to the camp—a man not well known by most at present—hustled out of their way.  Here, Dellasseea found the visage exactly as it had been given her to know so very long ago. 
On a dank and muddied ground laid an all but lifeless body.  Torchlight glistened in the blood pooled and flowing free from the gaping chest wound.  Another of Dellasseea's personal guardians sat cross-legged; cradling The Interpreter's head in his lap. 
Though Styian's feelings belied what he knew, he was still no less amazed when he looked to her and said in a thick EastSector accent, "I don't know how he's even still alive!"
Those were all the words Interpreter needed to hear to know his final embrace was near.  Dellasseea witnessed his body tense as he tried, with great effort, to open his eyes and search for hers.  Blinking uncontrollably, trying to focus, he managed a fragile smile as the woman he followed into war struggled for something to say. 
Though Dellasseea chronicled so many years ago, of no words being said, her heart found none even now.  Her eyes hurt with the pressure building up behind them.  Her throat tightened as she knelt down beside his pallid body.  The odor of his spilled blood permeated the air.  And the moment she held his dark gaze, an all-but-forgotten fragment of their past together, came to the fore of her thought.  She welcomed its remembrance with a frail smile.
Newly wed, Dellasseea N'Syis [Perrie Stevens] stood in Geffen’s [Ray Lynn] arms, at the front of the stage, waiting while Salisbury’s frontman queued the band to jam on through the intro; until The Interpreter could be found.
She rested her head back upon his shoulder as Geffen circled her neck with kisses. ‘Here he comes.’ Geffen whispered Within,                          
Dellasseea lifted her head and tried to hide the grin forming as she watched Lionheart march The Interpreter without mercy—hand to his back—across the dance floor.   Could he truly not have known that this was their song? Or had he simply meant to keep a respected distance? 
“Not a good idea to keep the bride waiting, Asshole.” Lionheart chided.  Dellasseea may have been comfortable with him mingling in and amongst The Allies, but Lionheart clearly was not. 
Geffen removed his arms from around her waist and relinquished his bride to the next dance.
Dellasseea charmed the rest every step of The Interpreter's approach with an all but perceptible hint of a smile; holding out her hand, ready and waiting for Interpreter to take into his own.
Overwhelmed by his nervousness when he took her hand, Dellasseea took a quick breath and put forward, "Relax!" And then broaden her hint into a full-grown smile. 
Upon further sensing a reluctance—an actual indecision on his part to dance close or at an arm's length—being ever-mindful of his prudence, she offered reassuringly, "No one from my camp will question how you hold me. No one!"                            

With that, she felt The Interpreter slide his hand in fluid motion, round and about her waist.  As he pulled her to him, Dellasseea cupped her left hand over his shoulder and laid her head down upon it. 
This moment belonged to him and an extended version of Salisbury’s, Eyes.  He moved into the perfume that lingered about her neck, took a deep breath— and relaxed! 
Though well staged, most of the onlookers knew the evening's true significance.  Knew well what the years to come would bring.  All knew this night to be one of the last calms before a long and violent storm.  Having taken so long for her to be allowed among them, each who danced before The Interpreter—as would each who remained to follow—all had earned the right for their moment in chronicled Time.
Throughout the Awakening Years, the Allied bands used their music to help affect her awareness and understanding.  While it was an old track from Silent Lion, that gave her the visions of The Interpreter's death, it was Salisbury’s track that helped Perrie/Dellasseea focus her attention on his importance to their future. They used that one song to invoke her chronicling of his part in the telling of the Forbidden World’s story.  Though The Interpreter had known well the music she listened to, she could only trust he knew which songs provoked what visions of their future together.
Throughout the duration of The Interpreter visions, Perrie/Dellasseea fought with incessant coercions to confront him. During the Awakening years the battlefields then were still concealed deep within the minds of those fighting for the truth.  Ever wary that the pressure came via her opposition—as both ally and enemy used the same tactics and technique—she never asked him direct if he knew she had seen his death.  Never asked if he knew of his role as their interpreter.  And, had he ever truly known just how protective of him she had been all of those coming years?
It is many years passed, now, since either she or The Interpreter heard Salisbury’s music. Uneasily, Dellasseea whispered with great affection, "You were so nervous the night ..."
What smile The Interpreter still held, broadened in acknowledgment of his place in her memories. 
Lost in the moment, Dellasseea all but heard the night's sole voice of sporadic rounds of ground fire that continued to plague her people.  A sudden gust of wind swirled about those standing over them; carrying with it the stench of war and its sorrowful demise.  Loose wisps of dry hair danced about and caressed her face as the uneasy smile she held began to fade.
The scrutiny with which The Interpreter held her gaze was intense.  He was not so unlike the many in that her eyes reminded him of twin suns, totally eclipsed in a gray-blue sky and no matter how the many tried to discredit her, he could always look into them and know the True.

Dellasseea loosened a small strap with her teeth, and removed the fingerless glove protecting her right hand.  Once free, she then held it briefly fisted at her breast.
Most present noticed, but understood her hesitation; knowing exactly what to expect. The inevitable now firmly established, Dellasseea reached down and took her fingertips gently inside the wound.  Inside the torn flesh and displaced ribs, she searched through the fluid warmth until she captured the pulse of what remained of his life.
Interpreter's dark eyes—sparkling with torch light—widened.  Not so much by the sensation of her hand about his heart; but in acknowledgement of the audacity of her having done so.  Simultaneously, Dellasseea sensed his wonder.  His own realization of a once cryptic promise only now truly believed.  With a short and quick intake of breath, The Interpreter raised his right hand; taking an abrupt, but solid grip of her left arm.  Affected by the force, a slight involuntary groan escaped her. 
Lost in resolve, Dellasseea all but noticed Interpreter's eyes flutter and then close; slowly.  The flesh about his face rippled with the set of his jaw.  As he opened them again—just as slow—through an ebbing whisper he conceded; as if he owed her the answer, "I knew."
The pressure behind her eyes swelled.  Styian reinforced his own grip on The Interpreter's shoulders and with that acknowledgement, Dellasseea N'Syis could no longer hold back the tears that welled and blurred her sight.  Feeling the first actual tear form she fought the desperate temptation to reclaim her arm and wipe it away. 
Subject to his own anticipation, Dellasseea watched as The Interpreter refocused his gaze upon the droplet that crested, and began its escape. His eyes followed its descent.  He then gave her permission to, "Let it fall!"
Dellasseea tensed and closed her eyes.  And with all the strength he had left to him, The Interpreter pulled her closer.  She, of all people, would not deny him peace. And so it was there—directly over his fatal wound—that their Fated teardrop left her cheek. 
In that incalculable moment of time, everyone present stood witness as the single tear fell.  They watched the sparkling droplet fall away and mingle with his blood.  In that instant, The Interpreter's hand loosened from her forearm and fell away; like the strings of a marionette having just been cut.  And there, in her fond embrace, his heart ceased to beat. 

Blessings, LL Abbott

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Caged Heart--The Last Heartbound / The Forbidden World Chronicles ~L.L. Abbott
Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved -- Current Draft

Friday, June 7, 2013

Doubts afire!

Shall I bother with Part Three? Am I talking to air? Are my words not the right words? Does anyone really care? Why am I even trying? I boxed it all up and put it away, and in that, I found some semblance of Peace. Are my efforts better spent elsewhere? Am I wasting precious time? 

OH! The insecurity!

Blessings, L.L. Abbott

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Death of a Human Heart ~ Part Two

 from his eyes came 
subtle acknowledgement

from her eyes falls
gently his peace

Dellasseea [Perrie] offered up a meaningful, “Thank you.” when the rain stopped abruptly.  She felt the dampness in her bones and longed for a warm cup of tea.  Unfortunately, distant snipers still had them pinned down.  Khy-Lin fired off another shot when four rounds pinged off the armored plating just ahead of them.
‘Interpreter's down!’  
The VoiceThought statement pierced the inner silence of Within.  Taken aback, Dellasseea looked to Khy-Lin. Yes.  He heard it as well.
Veiled by the darkness Lionheart raced back to the front.  Though he chose to return alone, just as he’d come, two Allied troops followed close behind.  He dropped and rolled behind a jeep when he saw two flashes up ahead.  Having missed their mark, Lionheart heard them wiz by and sink into the earth.  He cursed the muddied ground as he rose to take off again; as he still had some distance go. 
Born of this world, Lionheart could not see or walk Within, as could those who fought so hard to get and take his charge back home.  But, somewhere in his family’s history, there had been an hybrid birth; giving him the ability of Voice-Thought. 
With haste imperative, Lionheart ran on through the dark.  He wrestled with what he’d witnessed and the message he bore; but, suppressing the urge to protect Dellasseea N'Syis from providence a few moments longer, he once again risked vulnerability and shouted Within, ‘Interpreter's down!’
It’s all she would need to hear.  Though there came no immediate response, he knew to expect none. 
The words send a chill rippling up her spine and through her entirety.  Though graciously long in coming, Lionheart's communiqué clearly indicated the realization of yet another predetermined night.  Dellasseea shut her eyes momentarily to still the swell of her heart.  She then indicated to Khy-Lin the need to disengage. 
With no questions asked they broke from the conflict.  Crossing the strap of his M-14 over his neck and shoulder, Khy-Lin wove the fingers of his left hand between hers, grabbed up the Dragon, and then took off to meet Lionheart halfway.  Grasping up clips and magazines, two troops followed after watching their backs. 
Trusting her guardian to duty—maneuvering around burned out vehicles and wet craggy terrain—Dellasseea lost herself in memories of Interpreter's cryptic alliance.
Due to the circumstance of her false birth, Dellasseea N'Syis spent the greater part of her human life (as Perrie Stevens) ignorant of the fact that she was, by this world’s understanding, empathic.  She could literally feel that proverbial tension in a room.  Once Awakened--the stratagem used to draw her attention to her disguised imprisonment--the process of distinguishing her feelings from another’s began.  Learning to recognize is one thing.  Disconnecting hers from theirs proved the more difficult.  Especially when those closest to her stood to lose the comfortable lives they’d become accustomed to.
Her imprisonment required she be stripped of this ability. Or to at very least be and remain unaware of any knowledge of her own capabilities.  Perceiving what another is thinking is a powerful tool, especially when used by those suffering a lesser degree of integrity.  Extremely beneficial to the ongoing struggle and those who perpetuated the greater lie upon the masses. 
Though her Awakening offered harsh lessons, the learning explained a great many things to her.  Among them being that certain thoughts evoke specific emotions and emotions emit outward.   Imagine a sordid man’s confusion when—even though he knows he’s looking less-than-kindly upon a beautiful, innocent-minded woman and says nothing to offend or give himself away—ends up surprised by her rejection of him. 
Imagine the woman not recognizing that what she feels is his threatening and perverse emotions.  She walks away feeling ugly—believing she’s physically ugly—not knowing it was the dark emotions she picked up on.  Not how she thought he saw her.  He moves on feeling rejected, inadvertently, by his own careless thought process.  What happens if he acts on that misunderstood rejection?
What if, in the grander scheme of things, someone believes another’s ugly thoughts to be his or her own?  The greater offense or true wrong done is to keep them believing these were his or her own passions.  The implication to this alone disturbed Perrie deeply.  Once she'd dealt and come to terms with who and what she was, she concerned herself with its misuse by those who possessed and shielded the same inherent abilities.
It was during the Awakening Years that The Interpreter (who worked in the same corporate surroundings as Perrie), risked the increased danger of knowing her and established a harmless working relationship.  In his own initial naivety, he believed there was a great deal more to this woman than what normally met one’s eye.  There was a grace about her that he found refreshing if not obviously appealing.  She didn’t mess around with small talk or gossip and welcomed a challenging conversation.  
Though she’d been weaned on head games, upon her Awakening they were noticeably more serious.  As her awareness of the lies that enveloped her grew, so did the games. All orchestrated to force her into making mistakes, trumping her up; anything to discredit and/or demean her. 
Over time, Interpreter saw for himself the varied end results suffered by those getting too close.  As often enough, some were suicided.  Just the same, he admired her tenacity and offered her subtle reassurance and vague acknowledgments.   All denied her by those losing control of the known future.
As their seemingly platonic relationship grew, Perrie rarely challenged when his words fell out of sync with what she sensed.  She let him say and lie what he wanted to anyone else.  He usually had his reasons. And out of respect, she left him to them.  She understood, quite well, the factor always centered on self-preservation.  Though he was not so unlike the many others she knew to be inextricably linked to her future, his distinction was that of never verbally let on that he knew of such things.  But that tends to happen when you play both sides.

Once among the Allies and her writing became more prolific, he never even acknowledged reading of himself in her published work.  Never let on that he knew she had written of his fate.  He was the perfect player.


After ducking behind one of the supply trucks to catch their breath, Khy-Lin nodded to Dellasseea to move on.  In a crouched run they headed for the next available cover.  When a sudden burst of enemy fire erupted from the darkness, the two following after them, stopped to engage.  Khy-Lin pulled at and pushed his charge ahead of him.  And Dellasseea headed for a pile of sand bags and jumped into the fox-hole just behind.  The instant Khy-Lin landed inside, he found a solemn-faced Lionheart. The look on Dellasseea’s face that said Interpreter’s wound was indeed mortal. 

Reading the anguish in her eyes, Lionheart knew every moment would be precious to her.  He nodded to Khy-Lin to move out and quickly went about retracing his steps.  Along the way, he confirmed the Duster that hit the truck behind which The Interpreter hid and the explosion that sent shrapnel and jagged fragments of sheet metal everywhere.  Unfortunately, his would not be the only mortal wound suffered this night.

Blessings, LL Abbott

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Caged Heart--The Last Heartbound / The Forbidden World Chronicles ~L.L. Abbott
Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved -- Current Draft