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Live To Tell

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Live To Tell

Post by Shula Brighton on Thu Sep 27, 2012 2:26 am

Like a dismal countdown to zero hour, it was a day Shula knew was coming, had marked down and planned for, but for all her planning and preparation she didn't feel any easier about. Sleep didn't really come that night for her, the Ishvallan uncharacteristically quiet, only picking at her food, and only closing her eyes in small snatches. Time had been running out. After months of research and a few very dangerous near-misshaps, Shula had uncovered the secrets to not only creating a Philosopher's Stone, but perfected human transmutation. Very few people in Amestris or even the world possessed the knowledge Shula did now, and more than anything she understood why it was forbidden. Long ago she had curled into her grandfather's lap and asked what was so bad about it that nobody would talk about it; people dying was sad, so using alchemy to bring them back would surely be a good thing.

"Some secrets are best left as such," Ulrich had told his girl after putting the book away and out of her reach. She'd been so young, and to her, the possibilities of the good and beautiful things alchemy could do were infinite. Ulrich hadn't wanted to taint that sense of wonder and awe or let her look at pages stained too darkly with blood. The sun wasn't up yet, but Shula was restless, not wanting to wait for her alarm to beep and frazzle her nerves further. Spade needed the sleep more than she did, anyway. She glanced to the man in her bed as she lingered in the doorway of her room, simply watching him. It was that look; the one she knew so well and had hated for so much of her life. The one people gave when they were afraid they'd never see you again. Devoted as the tide to the moon, she'd always managed to return to Spade through wars and bombings, through surviving torture and witnessing a massacre, through Amestris nearly falling in on itself, to her last meeting with Raistlin. Shula leaned against the door's frame, watching the steady rise and fall of Spade's chest in the dark. Raistlin had taken away the array inside of her that spared her from toxins, illnesses, and changes, and replaced it with a timed bomb.

But despite that threat looming over her that would claim her existence beyond saving, Shula had returned to Spade, the Xingese detective a single beacon for her in a cape of storms. But that beacon was her only hope. Raistlin had promised if she'd brought him the stone and its secrets she would be freed for good, but... Shula pried herself away from the door, creeping down the stairs of her loft to go sit in her kitchen and stare at breakfast she was too nervous to eat. She'd lost weight again in the last few weeks as the time ticked away. It made her look frail, at work Shula going to great lengths to cover her distress and changes. Lisbeth would babysit South for a few days, Shula supposedly going away on a retreat, but whether she'd come back from it she wasn't sure. Spade was sure, and Shula forced up as much confidence and bravery as she could for him. Head on her folded arms, she leaned against the table, not caring if she wrinkled the kurta that hung down to her knees. Come dawn, they'd leave, and drive south, into the mountains that separated Aerugo and Amestris. They would wait for the helicopter to pick them up and fly them to Kyoto. Shula knew the plan so well, and yet, there was still the chance it wouldn't work. The chance Raistlin would suspect Shula would try to betray him, Hell, there was a chance that the escorts coming to pick her up had orders simply to kill her on sight and raid her body and car of notes and the stone. And if they made it safely to Raistlin's laboratory? Spade would be busy keeping the facade going and Shula would have to do most of the talking to convince Raistlin the stone was real. There was just... so much....

There was a squeak, a scoot, and a groan as surprise from the beeping alarm woke Shula at the table from upstairs, made her jump, trip in the seat, and then land with the chair overturning on top of her. Yup. It was unquestionable that Spade's bride was the picture of grace. Rubbing her elbow and glaring at the chair, Shula pushed herself back off the floor, feeling ill just thinking about trying to eat. She needed to, but there just was no urge for it that her body would adhere to, even with the smell of the small meal she made for Spade to have. She had her files organized and the flash drive, and the deep red marble that would help make or break her fate; the only thing Shula wanted before she and Spade left the loft was a kiss since she wouldn't have another chance to until later. With both her arms wrapped tightly around him, a kiss that was warm and slow, lingering, both grateful and loving yet openly expressing that fear that she couldn't hide from Spade. Slowly she let go, one hand on his cheek, keeping herself close and almost stalling opening the front door to start the trip. "Remember, if they go to put me under for the trip there, you have to let them and go with it." Her voice was soft, weighed with tiredness and the thought of being knocked out for this trip far too uncomfortable to think about much. But just rolling with it like it was routine would be the hard part and she knew it.

On her toes, another kiss was pressed against Spade's lips, breathing out "I love you," on the edge of her breath and soft as a whisper before hesitantly pulling away to lock up the flat behind them and head to her car. The powder-blue vintage bug zipped down the highway in the early morning light on a nearly empty road, heading further and further away from civilization and into the mountains. The border at hand, Shula parked her car off the side of the road and climbed out of the car, waiting for the helicopter that would pick her up. She wouldn't risk glancing behind at Spade or voicing the desire to hold his hand. Shula would wait quietly and obediently, far beyond the point of no return.
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Re: Live To Tell

Post by Spade Aeries on Sat Sep 29, 2012 11:28 pm

Through the pinprick distance between his eyelashes, he saw that look. The careful rustling of the sheets--the rise of the mattress, leaving warmth--her listing silhouette in the door frame all seeping slowly into the refuse of a sleep-muddled mind. Ah, so she was that worried? The pillow meeting his face suddenly felt harder, springs digging into his ribs despite loads of fluffing between. She'd never seen the money flow at the casinos--the buckets he brought home under lady luck's smile. It was a gamble, and he'd be damned if anyone was more capable than himself to win the prize. Ability was vested in this scam, however, and ability warranted possible failure. It was all on him: his shoulders, his game, his dice. This machine wouldn't sing and there was no 'try again'. Late the other night, the stakes were laid out on the table like the food she'd stopped gorging. Chocolate didn't even work. The stakes were so high they were taller than the ceiling fan in his apartment when he was hungover and trying to get his car keys down from it. They were bursting from her eyes everywhere she looked and he'd stopped sleeping if only to listen to her breathe. It was like she had disappeared again, only she was standing right there looking at him with that look--that torturous look he didn't even need to see in order to capture. Breaking the berth of his chest, the hammering hooves of his main organ were running out dust to kick up. It was a small miracle that he continued to breathe evenly as if he were asleep, body resting, while his mind wrestled with the truth.

If he failed, it would be his own fault. If he failed, there would be no turning back. If he failed, Shula would die. This person standing there in the shadows of morning, soft fabric of midnight clinging to her skin, would be no longer. He would be no longer. Standing between them, wringing fate like a worn rag, he was it; he was all the hope left and all the terrifying T's crossed. Spade Aeries, currently in boxer shorts and shades, equip with a fresh pack of Lucky Sevens, for the extra spice on the cake--an extra chip on the shoulder of the ticking clock. Who was he kidding, falling back asleep? It was bullshit. But he'd try anyway, if only for that look, reassuring in silence. He'd stopped speaking--stopped nagging. Spade couldn't remember the last thing he'd said to her about today. Hell, if it even was today yet. The sun was still snoozing like a lazy bum. Last time he got up this early was when he had passed out drunk at a bar and they were kicking him out. That was before he joined the military, before he met Shu, before this fiasco has him questioning his sanity. But his mind had to stop; he had to focus. His quiet demeanor the past few days were building up, the fluid pulses of energy within him steadily preparing to be exhausted. Not one mistake. He wouldn't slip up.

FIRE!? He sat up like nobody's business, a bewildered look on his face. When had he-- WHAT WAS THAT SOUND?! For a few moments before his mind collected itself, he stared blindly at the opposing wall. Alarm clock. That was Shu's alarm clock. He had fallen asleep, his strings of thoughts leading him into mindless darkness. He emerged now, feeling as though he should douse himself with a bucket of freezing cold water and throw himself down a fire pole, but no, no, that was just Shu's alarm clock. One day, he'd break it. He would. He really would. Break it and carve apart those little gears that made it tick and-- He should probably get up. In a hazy stupor, he stumbled about into a stolen Aerugese Special Ops uniform that made him look like a freakin' samurai or some ninja shit. Sparing a look at himself in the mirror, he brushed away the grime of last night's beer, wetting his hair and running a brief comb through it. Done, he quick did a buzz of his scruff, and headed straight for a minty kiss, slow, effortless, Shu. He barely felt her arms around him because he was hardly there. Too much fear was pressed against him; he had to keep it at bay. If it took him too, there'd be no one left to save them. Even heroes got scared, but he was no hero; he was--the hell was he even? He looked sideways at the door just as anxious to let go as he was that day in the hospital when he was sure he'd never see her again.

"Remember, if they go to put me under for the trip there, you have to let them and go with it." Like a dog at the pound. His teeth grit together, clammy hand grasping the door handle like a vice. Barely, he nodded like his head was super glued to his shoulders, prying the door open like 20-year-old gum off the pavement. Time to go. No, fuck this. He slammed the door shut and spun around, slapping on a crooked grin.

"You're just trying to sneak in more sleep than me. That's cheating, you know?" He yanked open the door again and strut through it. She planted a kiss on him, and he was sure it's turn out to be poison ivy or poison oak or something. He'd never get rid of it.

"I love you." Chik-chik Spade cocked his rifle, a wild look blaring in emerald eyes. He slung it over his shoulder, swinging around his Seven's keys as if he were a little kid.

"Love ya too." His baby purred to life, roaring down the roads on Shu's pale blue ass, practically connected by a string. He maneuvered in dangerous ways, living on the very edge of the edge. The edge. The edge. The edge again, his smile only grew, eyes alight with something maybe the Ishvallan wouldn't be able to recognize. He parked incognito, exiting with eyes lurking from the bushes, waiting for the helicopter--waiting to breach the distance and cast them all under his spell.

.....................................................................................................................................


Fluent in | Amestrian (green) | Xingese (seagreen) | Cretan (yellow) | Ishvallan (orange) | Esparian (royalblue) | Everything has a Xingese accent except Amestrian.

No shit, Spade. B) It's elementary, my dear Shu.
I will not come home drunk.
I will noot come home drunk.
I wi no t comme hom dunk
I wi na dung hum brump
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Re: Live To Tell

Post by Shula Brighton on Sun Oct 21, 2012 12:04 am

The scent or morning clung to the black forest around Shula, each deep breath amplifying her own silence. The woods were still that morning save for a few birds, but even they seemed quiett. Maybe they knew that their morning was going to be disturbed by something very dangerous; animals did have a sixth sense about these things. Heart beating in heavy thumps, Shula could only count them as she breathed, wondering if Raistlin would uphold his word; if he really would let her go on his own, and undo the change he'd made to her. She remembered what he'd done to her the first time; how within just a few hours she already had problems breathing. How her heart struggled as her lungs couldn't pull in enough air to satisfy her body's pleas. The doctors that swarmed and stabbed and tested. At that point Raistlin had warned her she wouldn't have a full two weeks before her body was beyond saving, and he'd been right. This time? He was vague, dark words slicing into her soul, reminding her whom she belonged to and to whom she owed her life twice now. The stone would be his, or her body would be forfeit and no miracle of medicine would offer salvation.

"You are not his." That may have been one of the bravest things her love could have ever promised his bride. Freedom was a tremulous thing, and so easy to lose, caught in the fine lines and wire netting of others until you could no longer move anywhere in safety. Shula stood in the small clearing, red eyes skyward as she held onto her pointed elbows. Her body really had grown gaunt again, like it had the first time Raistlin had Shula brought to his lab and turned her body into just another experiment. After she'd promised Spade that she wouldn't close her eyes and vanished... she'd never know what happened when nobody knew where she'd gone. She wouldn't bring it up. Spade had thought her dead those three days, and really, wasn't she? After having so much of her changed to the point where her heart, lungs, and blood were now the contributions of another and being altered back and forth to what she could withstand, Shula wasn't even sure that she was herself anymore, but at the same time, couldn't be sure that had these things not happened that she wouldn't have changed also or how. Like a strange puzzle, she wondered if this was how Frankenstein's creature felt, returning to its master and knowing that it was just a walking liability. Who was to say that the Shula that had been left behind in South hadn't died there, or that if Apos had found her to take her with them and avoided all of this, she wouldn't have changed and pushed forward the way she had learned to. Would Spade have still loved her if she hadn't become the person she was now and just stayed the shy girl buried under paperwork that nobody in Central wanted to do?

A heavy sigh pushed outward as Shula's eyes closed, the woman trying to put the crushing thoughts aside. Things happened as they were meant to happen, and this was the fate Ishvalla had led her to. She had a choice at each major turning point that affected the next one, but this was Ishvalla's will and plan for her. And now she had to swallow her fear for now as the sound of the helicopter cut through the air in the distance over the trees. They were coming. Alone in the clearing, Shula was waiting for them, praying that their orders were not to simply snipe her from above and then raid her body for the stone. Even if that were the case, Raistlin would still be up the creek, but Shu would be toast, and that really wasn't how she wanted to start her day. The helo came closer slowly, its small black body not showing any windows that she could see. That... was weird. Then again, when had her meetings with Raistlin ever been conventional? And at least this time there'd be no poisoned miso soup. She stepped back, back toward her car slowly, eyes on the dark black helicopter that landed in the clearing like a great black bird to carry her soul to Erishkigal.

Slowly the blades stopped their violeng spinning, the force sending the hiding birds screaming from their rooss, Shula's arm raised to shield her eyes from the debris. Dark brown henna marks stained and patterned her hands and arms, dark sepia stained into a warmer earthy brown. Rotations stilled, two escorts exited the craft, leaving only the pilot inside. While not heavily armed, the Aerugese special ops agents were more than prepared enough for the task of escorting a tiny woman. One rushed to Shula as her hands raise to chest-height slowly, the agent quickly padding her down as the other moved about the clearning to make sure that she really had come alone. "We're going to Aerugo now," came the rushed Aerugese, the soldier's hand grasping firmly around Shula's upper arm, eliciting a small gasp and a dark look from the tiny woman. She only tried once to wrest her arm free even though she moved forward.

"You speak too fast," Shula growled. She was stalling for time, but the urgency in trying to get her into their ride and away made her uneasy. The soldier sighed, saying nothing as he pulled her along, the other soldier finishing his sweep of the area. For a moment, Shula thought this was going wrong, and that they'd leave without Spade. Or worse, that there had already been agents there waiting for her, counting on her to bring backup. Spade! Nobody caught it as she cast a terrified glance behind into the thick foliage, unsure of where Spade was hiding.
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Re: Live To Tell

Post by Spade Aeries on Mon Oct 29, 2012 1:21 pm

You know how in those movies when someone was waiting for shit to happen, they pretended to file their nails? Well, Spade could have finished clipping all ten of his nails and all his toes (since he didn't typically file his nails like some prissy chick chewing bubble gum). It was so out of character it made him grimace at the thought, eyes still trained on the small of Shu's back. It was sort of--kind of hard not to drop his gaze just centimeters lower, but hey, he deserved a bit more confidence than that. Sucking it up with a deep breath of morning fresh air, he prepared himself. It was only a matter of time be-- The faint rap of copter wings--thunder in the sky. He heard it, and knew it was finally the start line coming to him. Prepare yourselves. Mess with Aeries, and you get paid back. Double. He sounded like a cheesy television show now. It was funny how stuff like that happened in reality; it wasn't just exclusively located in fictional forms of media. That's right, this was the real thing. The windowless black speck drew closer, spiraling up a whirlwind of leaves and flocks of frightened birds. It's menacing form gripped him in mock fear, trying to tell a hopeless tale to a scoffing detective. No hope? Glorious.

It landed and already Shu's stance waned into that of nervousness, her demeanor crumbling into memory, making Spade's skin crawl. Don't forget who's behind you, he tried telepathically. It kind of didn't work. Instead, two Aerugese bastards ceremoniously shuffled from the aircraft, one going immediately to check her for weapons (as he suspected), and the other heading out to survey the area (also as he planned). Right into his trap, Spade strut out into the open, blaring brain waves. Just as the Aerugese man spotted him, alert struck the guy into the beginnings of a frenzy. Op, nope, not lettin' that happen. He smirked to himself, feeling the Dragon's pulse spilling out from him, hitting the unsuspecting sucker straight between the eyes, expanding like spreading wings to inhabit the entire area around them. Pilot, pervert, and peeper were now completely under his hypnosis, struck still in stasis. Safe from harm for just a couple seconds, Spade let his eyes fall closed in concentration. He couldn't get this wrong. I am one of you. No language. Stop it before it becomes a thought. Send it out. Make it become them. Carefully, he creaked his eyes open, a dark emerald flickering in the windy sunlight. One...two...

"Anything that way, sir?" Spade struck a smile.

"Nothing that doesn't tweet." The other party nodded and motioned for them to head back. Spade followed directly behind him with a glum look directed at the back of his head. Cake. The man checking Shu for weapons suddenly dragged her roughly towards the steps. Spade ducked around the guy in front of him, meeting the frantic backward glance of his love. Hey, now. None of that. They just had to stick to the plan. But before that...he had to tread on dangerous ground. Having already prepared the exact words, he switched his voice into a complaining drawl. "I don't see why three of us had to come to collect someone so small." God, a whole 4 feet and eleven inches of small. A mouse could kidnap her. Jeez three of them? That much man power could kidnap Raistlin himself. Why was this necessary? It was a waste of time. They'd better get a good pension for this.

"Four," the pilot barked in a mean voice, turning around with a dank look.

"I failed math," Spade moaned with fake disappointment in himself. Silence. The other two guys were nodding with frowns, making sure that the Ishvallan was safely stored like cargo. Hah, he fit right in. Were Xingese really that similar in looks to Aerugese? They couldn't even tell the difference. He was right in playing on their ignorance, hell, he was lucky that they couldn't tell, then he'd have to play a different angle. Got it with the first try. That was normal, besides, he had lady luck on his side.

The trip was more or less fluid with the occasional bump. It took a decent amount of time, but he couldn't necessarily tell due to the lack of windows. He'd say somewhere between 93 or 96 minutes. Just about. When they touched down, the other two leaped up, Spade hurrying to comply with their exact mannerisms without appearing to study them. They dragged Shu out, Spade careful not to be the one to touch her. The spell was fragile.

.....................................................................................................................................


Fluent in | Amestrian (green) | Xingese (seagreen) | Cretan (yellow) | Ishvallan (orange) | Esparian (royalblue) | Everything has a Xingese accent except Amestrian.

No shit, Spade. B) It's elementary, my dear Shu.
I will not come home drunk.
I will noot come home drunk.
I wi no t comme hom dunk
I wi na dung hum brump
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Re: Live To Tell

Post by Spade Aeries on Sun Nov 25, 2012 10:57 pm

Down hallways of grandeur, they walked. Streams of various officials alongside them were a constant. Beads of sweat were gathering on Spade's brow. A headache was peeking at the corners of his blurry vision. It was all he could do to remain focused. Someone was talking to him. He barely heard it. Struggling just to see, Spade had to reply quickly--had to tenaciously cling to the feeble sinews of Aerugese language he had learned just for today. No accent. No suspicion. They were all under the spell. Walking was beginning to hurt his focus, but they eventually made it to Raistlin's chamber, Spade wavering on his feet. In this moment, he was the embodiment of deception, leaking raw energy like the dragon itself. His father, the previous emperor of Xing, was the previous emperor for a reason. Spade had inherited that power--the power that enabled him to take control of such a large country and lead it. Killed even by his own son... Spade guessed he had grown weak in his old age, which made him wonder when the same would happen to himself. At the peak of his exhaustion, he thought he heard his father's voice--his dead father's voice calling his name through the cloud. And when it cleared, there was nothing but a large metal door and the faint rattlings of cages. The beep beeping of the key code being typed, men shuffling about, some leaving were the only signs of the world outside of himself. One other man stayed beside Spade, allowing them access with a canny smile. He shed no expression. Couldn't afford emotion. Quick squeeze of wire. He was dead. No remorse.

The door opened. Spade took Shu through it, and then there he was: the man--the only man Spade truly and utterly desired to kill. Silence. He stood in the doorway, hat lowered over glimmering jade eyes, feasting for blood. His hands were clenched into tight fists, breaths coming in violent gasps, silenced by sheer determination. He was on the edge, teetering just before the fall, nails digging, cracking into the rock soil packed together by age and many pleas. He nearly felt tears pricking his eyelids, ignoring the qualms of his family--ignoring what his own brother did with this power--ignoring the stakes looming just out of reach of skewering the only thing keeping him going. Failure...was not an option. For Shu, failure was a faraway impossibility. They'd laugh about it later. He was sure. They had to. It was the only way...to live through this and keep going. Keep going.

A marble, no, the stone was raised along with Raistlin's eyebrow. Initial suspicion gone. Spade's knees grew weak, his body leaned harder against the door frame, pupils shrinking into nothing. The room grew darker. That is a Philosopher's Stone. The tides turned. "What use do you have me now, why should I let you free?" He said, and he was touching her. He was touching her with a hand that could kill instantly. Spade was letting it happen--he was standing there betting fifty-fifty. It's a Philosopher's Stone. Deep breath. Be satisfied. Cast the die. Hope it falls right.

"Please." Her voice coerced. Spade froze, finger gripping the trigger of a concealed gun as hard as his teeth clenched. "I'm not going to be in your way, Raistlin. After this, you'll never hear from me or see me again. All I want is a chance. The same chance that so many other people in the world are given since birth and take for granted until death. I want the same chance to live... To marry the man I love... To have a family together, children of my own... You gave me life, Raistlin. So now all I'm asking is for the ability to go put it to good use." The hand withdrew. Shu was alive. Blind flash. Spade was standing next to him. Could kill him. Wanted to. He growled because words wouldn't do enough. Shock happened on Raistlin's face, but it wasn't enough to satisfy him. Even in death, Spade wouldn't feel like it was resolved. Never. Not after this--not after what Raistlin did. Forget. Spade's mind was hissing, boiling over, sifting through any and all memories he had of Shula Brighton. Begone. Vanished. Enjoy your marble. A wild look shot towards the Ishvallan, now entirely complete--now entirely free. Relief. Relief and anger. Relief and hatred. He fumbled with the door, having nothing guiding him but determination. Everything spiraled sideways, Spade slammed hard into the opposing wall, panting.

Having a family... he'd never had that. Having kids? He wouldn't. Family, what was it even? A faulty construct, breaking at the lying seams, pretending to be safe. Blood wrecked lives staining the sheets of royalty. Discontinued. No. No one like himself. No one like his father. He couldn't have it. No. He couldn't have it.

[EXIT TOPIC]


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Fluent in | Amestrian (green) | Xingese (seagreen) | Cretan (yellow) | Ishvallan (orange) | Esparian (royalblue) | Everything has a Xingese accent except Amestrian.

No shit, Spade. B) It's elementary, my dear Shu.
I will not come home drunk.
I will noot come home drunk.
I wi no t comme hom dunk
I wi na dung hum brump
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Spade Aeries
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