Third Host: Excerpt, Amitiel

Amitiel finished searching the deck of the ship without further incident and without finding anything of interest to him. He could make sure none of the merchandise found homes on his way out. Maybe tip off someone on the force and really make their year. The door leading into the depths of the ship was unlocked and the whole place seemed strangely quiet for looking ready to sail. Amitiel frowned and paused to check his revolver and the rifle, making sure both were ready for action.

His worry deepened as he start checking cabins, only to find them empty. A slight echoing bang and a subtle shift in the movement of the boat broke the silence about three cabins down and drew Amitiels attention upward. The containers were being lifted off of the boat. He hurried back through the halls as fast as he could with the injuries. The boat shifted again as the second container started lifting off.

He knew it was too late, but he tried the door anyway. It didn’t budge. He shoved hard at the thick metal door, but it wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever they had done to seal it from the outside was going to keep him their. And nothing he was carrying was likely to do much damage to the steel.

His mind started tracking through possibilities. Who ever had set this up was serious. They had enough resources and men to feel like they could sacrifice people higher up the food chain to his investigation. The fact that they were sealing him in the boat likely meant that it wouldn’t survive the night either. The only real question was how much did they know about the man they had captured. As much as he had done his best as an investigator, he really didn’t think he had pissed off anyone enough to warrant this kind of treatment. Which probably meant they knew who and what he really was. Which also probably meant they were confident that whatever they had planned was going to get him out of the way.

He stopped in a cabin and went to the port window, gaging the size. It wasn’t going to be big enough. Odds were also not good that anyone willing to set up something this elaborate were going to miss any obvious routes out. The fact that nothing was sinking or exploding yet made him think it was bad. They wanted him to enter his full angelic form. Which probably meant they had something that could do real damage and they probably had made sure that more supernatural methods of escape were sealed.

Amitiel slumped onto a bed, giving himself a few moments to think. He really hoped he was dealing with someone patient. That would buy him a little time before they started trying to force his hand. He worked through options, quickly eliminating the more obvious choices. It wasn’t long before he was on his feat and pressing further into the ship, guessing which direction would get him to the engine room.

Crashing

Crises momentarily controlled,

exhaustion hits

like a heavyweight champ,

precision damage leaving

my world spinning,

falling physically, mind

still muddling along,

jabbing at answers

and gnawing remains

of situation left bare

months back, until finally

the noise shrinks

enough to let go,

at least for a moment,

though I hope for two.

Weekdays

Coherency fails

leaving patchwork shreds of self -

one more drink, then home.

Desire

Soft curves tease

dreams with sensations

long missed sins

phantoms of life

mocking inhibition

taunting glimpses

into dark corners

until desire overcomes

sense and senses.

Collecting

Back home,

travel weary,

memories full,

my mess still waits

taunting action

while sleep

sings a siren

song, until

I collapse

nothing finished,

just added too.

Growing Up

Waiting

for a moment,

an invitation

offering change,

seamless transition

to something new,

something better.

Never jumping,

throwing the dice,

never risking

loss of comfortable

stagnation.

Breaking Form

Session talking about tagging in Flickr ended a bit early and after a nigh-unto epic struggle with the WiFi, I figured I should take a chance to blog about the conference at least a little. I was originally going to head back into the Blogtropol lounge, but it was rather packed to the gills. Quite please to see that they have Pandora set up and playing for the background music. They also have Wii bowling going, which is amusing.

The expo floor is rather amazing. The sheer variety of strange services is likely going to have me in phone calls for the next month chasing down things that might be worth following up on. Assuming I can fit all of the paperwork back into my luggage.

Major points of interest: how to use social data, visuals are awesome, and give them a reason to come back. There are certainly some new pieces of the puzzle to start considering when I get back to the office. Since it wasn’t complicated enough already. Also? You need a LOT of WiFi to go around at something like this, because when you get enough people in here all trying to use it, things do not work so well.

San Francisco has been much friendlier today. Weather has cleared up nicely and I managed to sneak in a little wandering this morning on my here. Of course, the store I stopped in at with the ten dollar dvd’s was not helpful. I really didn’t need more things to fit into my bag for the trip home.

Oops, looks like it is time for another session, will perhaps add more later.

Continued:

Currently hearing about WeeMee avatars. Was hoping to hear more about Avatars in general instead of a lot about a specific type of avatar.

Check out the Instructables site if you have a little free time. I think it may become a new place that absorbs some of my time. The crafter in me is drooling. Not only that, but these people are awesome and have been laster etching electronics for free!

Tribal Style Angel Wings on the back of my Laptop.

Also have my DS etched with the Cult of Ecstasy symbol (Mage: The Ascension stuff)

I wish I had more electronics to etch.

Third Host: Excerpt, Valoel

Valoel lay in bed, listening to the sound of rain on her bedroom window. The soft rumble of distant thunder finally drew her out from under the covers. She changed into a pair of cut-off short and a baggy t-shirt with a mostly faded out band logo and lightly raked fingers through her hair before heading to the back door. Three steps out the door, she turned back and retrieved her forgotten pack of cigarettes and her book of matches.

She knocked free a single smoke and tossed the pack onto the counter before stepping outside. She danced back and forth on the chilled pavement a moment while here feat got used to the temperature, while simultaneously trying to light her cigarette without singing her fingertips. Three matches and a little more stillness later she managed.

Valoel hovered near the door while she finished her morning cigarette and snuffed the butt, setting it on the kitchen window seal, then stepped out into the rain. She tilted her head back and let the little drops of water play across her skin, a smile creeping across her face. She laughed softly and danced in a small circle before falling back onto the lawn and laying there, watching the rain.

After laying for a few minutes, clothes now thoroughly soaked, lightning lanced through the sky nearby, a load roar of thunder following close on it’s heals. Val shivered and hugged herself a bit, climbing back up. “Suppose I probably shouldn’t stay out in the rain too long,” she murmured, mostly to herself, and slipped back inside, remembering to grab the cigarette butt to toss in the trash inside.

The soaked clothes ended up in a pile in the corner of her room as she headed to the bathroom to shower, taking some extra time in the warm water to drive the chill back out. She washed her hair with eucalyptus shampoo and cleaned up with a bar of hand-made soap.

Valoel turned off the shower and leaned out, grabbing her towel down and drying off some before stepping out of the shower and started into the rest of her simple morning ritual. Before she could finish brushing out her hair, a knock at the door interrupted her. She scowled at the door to the bathroom, then opened it and leaned out, calling out, “Just a minute!”

She hurried into her room and grabbed a dry t-shirt to pull on and a patchwork skirt. Another knock sent her dashing from her room off to the front door. She glanced at the clock in the living room as she reached for the door knob. It was just after eight and she really wasn’t expecting anyone. She peered through the peep-hole and couldn’t see anyone. She bit her lower lip, trying to see a little more to the side through the hole when another knock sent her bouncing back from the door with a little startled yelp.

Val double checked the lock and crossed over to carefully peak between the curtains. She couldn’t see anyone out front and no cars except for the neighbors. She crossed over into the kitchen and made sure that door was locked as well, ignoring the next round of knocking.

From there, Val crossed back tot he front door to try and peak out the peep hole again. This time she caught a flicker of shadow moving away from the door. She backed away from the door, thinking. It was too gloomy outside for any proper shadows. Which either meant someone dressed all in black… or something worse. She went back to the bathroom to finish combing out her hair while she contemplated what her next move was. Her best hope was an overly curious mortal. If it was an actual shadow-creature, then things were bound to get complicated really fast.

Valoel finished getting herself ready for the day, made a cup of tea and some toast, then curled into her old battered love seat to think. She could try to hide. Just stay locked up inside until they lost interest or burst in on her. She could make a break for it. Loose herself in a bigger city maybe. Or she could try and find help. The problem with any of these options was that she really didn’t know what she was up against yet. So really, she needed to find out. Hopefully without getting deeper into the trouble

Hello San Francisco

Flight was late,

weather turned to rain,

hotel left us in the lobby,

fire alarm blaring,

but finally I get to sleep.

Character Sketch: Henry, Killer

Henry sat very still in his chair, tension dancing through his hands as his fingers dug hard at the wood. The itch was back. As always, it started in his eyes. Hardly noticeable at first. It built up quickly, though. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the signs. He tried to fight it, but it burrowed backwards from their. The insides of his head roared with the itching.

Finally a scream ripped free from Henry and he fell from the chair, clawing at the sides of his head. His ragged nails left rivulets of blood as he clawed and screamed. This went on for several minutes until just as suddenly as it had all started, Henry went still again. He laid there on the ground for a time, then stood up and went to the bathroom to wash up. He made sure the scratches had all stopped bleeding and all the blood was carefully washed away.

From there, Henry went into his basement. He carefully pulled aside a stack of boxes to reveal an old battered gun safe. He turned the dial back and forth, then pulled it open with a loud creek. He pulled out the old German Luger that had belonged to his father, a large bowie knife, a battered silver zippo and a box of ammo. He carried the items to the table and laid them out.

Henry started out by checking over the gun. Making sure it was clean and all the parts were still in working order. Then he methodically loaded it. The gun was set aside and next came the knife. He spent some time re-honing the edge, getting the edge perfect. The knife was returned to its sheath and out came the zippo. Henry lit it with a practiced flick, then held each fingertip in turn over the flame, not flinching as his fingertips charred.

His ritual finished, the lighter went back into the locker along with the ammo. Henry laced the knives sheath to his right leg under his pants, then went upstairs to get his ratty old camouflage hoody. The gun went into the hoodies pocket. He pulled up the hood and stepped out the back door of his small house.

On the back porch Henry carefully pulled out the knife, glancing to make sure no neighbors lurked in their backyards to watch him. He then set the knife on the ground and spun it. He waited patiently for it to choose a direction, then re-sheathed it. That decided, he cut across his yard and started weaving along the streets, watching the houses as he went. Now all Henry had to do was wait for the right house to speak to him, and his work could begin.