Hello, I'm a friend of OurLady, and I asked her to write something for me. I have a penchant for SI so inbetween her essays she has been drip feeding me this. I like it so I thought I would post it on her account. If you have any reviews I know it'll be a surprise. So the arent really chapters, just hunks of text. i'll clean up any new stuff she gives me, ta, thanks.

For once the guitar bag didn't seem too heavy and I hefted it over my shoulder and carried on walking. I was pretty sure that every part of my body was at that moment fuelled with anger. No make that fury. Everything that I had concentrated on for the last three years had been pulled from me by the one person that I thought would be there like I had been for him. A literal two and a half minute wait had turned into fifteen minutes then morphed into thirty five. I know I shouldn't have waited so long for him; it was utter stupidity on my behalf. But he'd promised and convinced me that he would pick me up and have me outside the hall for that one performance that would guarantee my life for the next four years. He didn't show. At all. As I sprinted, as much as I could with my stupid heels and that bag and my satchel, towards the hall I was still making excuses for him. Well not again. Ever again. I nearly ripped the handle off the door as I tried to open it. I was nearly an hour late. The only thing that could work in my favour was the fact my name had been nearly the last on the order sheet. But like everything that had worked against me, the door was locked. There were no lights. Cold dread oozed down my spine and I knew that yanking at the door was futile. It was finished. It was done. I was over. Then the cold dread was gone and it was hot rage. Yes, I like rage. It had me kicking off those stupid heels he had made me buy, saying that it would help my first impression with the judges. I kicked them into a bush and laughed, okay nearly cried, and stormed off, ignoring the holes shredding my pantyhose (yes that he had also made me buy) back the way I had come, though not at the same pace.

"Hey Banana, how did it go?"

Oh my god, yes he just said that. From the car that was crawling beside me as I kept moving. The window open, arm around a girl that was laughing as she took in the fact I was barefoot, probably leaving bloody footprints behind me as I stalked up that road. I could feel maniacal laughter bubbling from my chest but I didn't want that to be the last memory of me. Instead I stopped and turned to look his, shit he is still so handsome, smiling still my best friend face.

"Kane. Let me spell this out for you. Since the person who promised to drive me to my audition didn't turn up I was late. Too late."

My voice cracked at the end, at the last two words I had the petty satisfaction of seeing his face crumble as he realised it was him who had failed. The girl's mouth fell open and as she turned to look at him I saw the hickey on her neck. Oh, classy. Our big promises to each other had been thwarted by a girl with a short skirt and loose mor…was a slut. I walked away from him. To his credit, not that I was giving him any, I didn't hear the car rumble to follow me up the road. He knew that there was no coming back from that.

The guitar was the only thing I place with care back in my room. Even wiping it down like every other practise session. No finger marks marred its wooden body, and I settled it back into its stand. My hair tie I yanked out, relishing the tear of hair. The skirt (yes that he made me goddamn buy) I ripped off. Instead I pulled on my shittest jeans. Off came that stupid blouse (that was mine but I was still angry) vindictive and slightly misplaced pleasure at the pop of each button. As soon as I yanked down that singlet the tears did too and it was all over rover.

I lay on the bed knowing I would have to make plans. But there was a big blank. Everything that I had done had been on the road to going to college on that music scholarship, doing that work and getting that degree and learning from the best and…I didn't have a backup plan. I had ignored my life, apart from Kane more fool me, in order to do what I had to, to get what I needed. But there was just a blank. And I found that terrifying. There was simply just nothing. I didn't know what to do or who to go to or anything. If something had been less scary I would have called Kane, but I had never thought that he would be the cause of it. I wouldn't cry anymore. I needed to get my mind off it. So I turned to video games. That was what had brought Kane and me together. That and a mutual love of angry rock music. But I was damned if he was going to wreck this for me. My mother wouldn't be back for another couple of hours. And I wanted to delay a return to shitty reality for a while so I flicked the ps3 on and waited for the TV to warm up.

It wasn't quite paid off on my visa but I had clocked it twice and I still couldn't get enough. Yes the facial expressions of the character were pretty much non-existent but it was still awesome. And it made me grin. And it made me laugh. Then I realised that I talked more to the people (yes I know they aren't real) on the screen more than I had talked to anyone (yes apart from he who shall not be named…not Voldemort) for the last couple of manic weeks. Those words to…him had been the first that day. Until I pretend to be the warden. Even putting on the appropriate ethereal voice that could only belong to a slender, forest dwelling, beautiful but tough elvish warden. Apart from the fact we had the same coloured hair that was the end of similarities. Her hair was short, braided with feathers and beads; light purple eyes stared out from the twist of dappled tattoos. My hair was blonde but hung down my back, my eyes were light green and there were no tattoos on my face. A slight scar on my lip were I had bitten it when I had fallen down the stairs was. Also managing to break my ankle. But that's another story.

Maharial and I had just managed to kill that brood mother, all amazingly done, though flourishes and appropriate cool killer end move had been done only in my head, when the earthquake started. I ignored it, I normally did. Until the TV started to shuffle to the edge of the duchess. I paused the game (I'm not stupid, plus I'm pretty cool in a crisis…normally) and pushed the TV back against the wall before I took shelter under the doorway. But unlike all the other earthquakes this one didn't end. The noise became unbearable and the shaking got more violent. Now my brain is mostly, near totally logical and will break down situations into manageable chunks, but that teeny tiny little bit that was super irrational decided to rear its ugly little head and throw the chaos switch into red. I suddenly felt like the best option would be to run past the massive potentially shattering windows in the hall and gallop down the stairs (yes the ones that savagely raped my ankle bone) and go outside. Yes I did trip on the second stair down, smooth I know, I did manage to get my hands up before I planted my face on the next successive steps. But then it was black.

"Motherfucker."

Again yes smooth, thank you. The volume was already impressive. The echoes that sprung back at me were repeatingly so.

"Is someone there?"

Not so ready for the reply that was not that wonderful swear word. And that teeny tiny irrational beast still had a little energy and I shrunk back to hide and answer,

"No."

I even rolled eyes at myself. What a dick. And then logic was back. Echoes? In the middle of a back yard. No, no. Something is…oh shit. The night sky was super impressive, constellations I had never seen revolved above me, so bright it seemed it was the middle of the day. Rearing up from the stone ground I crouched against were the ruins of stone walls.

"Not the smartest one. They just seem to flock to you don't they."

Bitch. I christened her pretty instantaneously. The bitchy voiced one. I'm pretty sure that if she had been in the same boat as me she wouldn't have stood up and cooee-ed to anyone that was in sight…of the ruins of an ancient church in the middle of a swamp. Why this feeling of déjà vu already? No, no. No I don't bloody think so. Thank you very much crazy brain synapses. I stood, ignoring bitchy face and whoever else was there to ogle, (yes I said ogle) what the wang was going on (yes I said wang, deal with it).

"No I do not bloody think so."

"What don't you think?"

A man's voice from close by my ear was like an electric cattle prod to my back. Son of a bitch. I jumped, but also proudly I admit swot the voice (it's possible) with a nearly closed fist. It connected barely, thank god. Apparently tin cans can talk.

"Son of a bitch."

"Well aren't you a curious one."

Bitchy face. I turned to face her and damn near poked my eye out on the stick she carried. This I managed to swot away with more coordination. Though the furious expression on her face, and the glow of angry looking red around a hand meant that that had been a bad option. I did the only logical thing when faced by such a display. I went closer and squinted into her face. The glow brightened as if she were readying something fiery to burn me to crisp (how close I was in that thought only occurred to me later on that night/morning). Son of a bitch indeed. But to be extra sure I had to look down. Yes, there were her breasts, barelyeven string holding those puppies back. If I had been a bit shorter it wouldn't have been the stick that would have poked an eye out. If the night had been a bit colder if you know what I mean… (yeah, I know.)

"Morrigan. Well push me down the stairs and give me a concussion."

Again probably not the best thing to have done with the awesome powers of hindsight, but at least logic didn't have me a quivering wreck on the ground at my current predicament.

"And how do you know me?"

She said this with the arrogant air of always getting her way. But my cool, calm and collected mind put two and two together. Morrigan, man's voice and punching a tin can. Bloody Alistair. I spun away from the witch and clapped eyes on him. Oh, yeah. There he was. All hot and sweaty and looking really confused, and he has a sword drawn. It's pointed at me. Cool and also so not.

"Okay. How's about we all take a deep breath and we talk about this."

"How about you just talk?"

Another voice. Not what I imagined. Considering my warden had been an elf. And cool. And a woman. And not bloody Kane. Again I was smooth and not weird at all. I strode forward (I know, initiative) and poked my finger into his chest (losing some of its power being encased in metal but the gist was there),

"You can just bloody piss off."

The same lifting of an eyebrow that normally made me grin just made me frown. But he didn't flick my hand away. Instead he just looked down at me clearly amused. Cock. He was sweating too and his normally long brown hair was cut quite short and looked like it hadn't been washed for a few days. Then click. Not Kane. Cousland, but not Kane.

"Um, Finn?"

Kane's twin grunted at Alistair but didn't move. I could only guess. I had obviously entered a loading travel section of the game; my brain couldn't even send me to a fun part. I stepped back and pushed Kane/Finn away,

"Go play with the dark spawn I need a rest."

I plopped to the ground now realising how cold it was in a mind generated swamp without socks.